Mood Ring Ch 08

I had woken up languidly and in comfort. I was drowsy and comfortable. I stretched and reveled in the feel of the soft cotton sheets and sunlight against my naked body.

And then I sat bolt-upright as I remembered where I was and what had happened.

HOLY FUCK!

I had to get out of here!

Where were my clothes? Oh yeah, damn! I was sick on them.

I looked around and on the nightstand I saw a silver platter and a folded note standing upon it.

My curiosity piqued and the urgency of getting away forgotten, I reached for the ecru-colored stationery and saw an unfamiliar and very feminine hand written in cobalt–blue that read:

My Dear Frances,

My love, I had to wake early to run errands. You were sleeping so sweetly and peaceful I did not disturb you beyond giving you a small kiss. Your sweet sleepy smile in response has made my day already!

I took the liberty of taking your dress to the dry-cleaners.

Please feel free to use anything you find in the closet of the guest bedroom to clothe yourself.

You may await my return or leave to take care of your personal business as you see fit. The gate will open to the code: ****

I will be cooking a nice steak dinner tonight around 6:00 if you would care to join me; it would be my pleasure! I cannot get enough of your company!

Ever yours,

Anya

She was a doctor and she had neat handwriting. What a surprise.

Yeah, I am an idiot! I had gone and convinced a (gorgeous) Lesbian that I was interested in a relationship with her. Understand: I am totally straight. I told myself it was only the alcohol lowering my inhibitions and my inebriated horniness that had allowed last night to happen in the first place.! (

The fuzzy thought that I had REALLY enjoyed the hot sex was just a distraction. I was too freaked out to deal with any inconvenient truths at the moment.

)

I wanted a shower, but it was already past eleven o'clock and I was not sure how long she had been gone nor how soon she would return. I did not want to experience running into her at this point. I had screwed up and I had screwed up but good!

I remembered the moment when I had realized that she was truly attracted to me and that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I knew that I was going to have to let her down easy so that there would be no hard feelings.

But things got kinda fuzzy after that and all I could remember was a storm of emotions sweeping me away: regret, relief and memories of things that I couldn't stop to sift through at the moment. Oh, and the undeniable fact that we slept together. How I ended up in bed with her was not one-hundred percent clear; but I was slick and sore in all the right places and the vivid memory of what she had done to me made me blush in the daylight.

I hurried to the guest bedroom. (

I was guessing it was the right one; she had like a bajillion rooms in this freaking wonderful house.

) I recognized it as the scene of the crime and purposely avoided even looking at the wrecked bed. "That" smell was even stronger in here and I inwardly cringed. I selected a desert paisley peasant smock that fell just past my knees from the full closet (

How many clothes and dresses did this woman have?)

and a pair of sandals that seemed to fit well enough. Either she had extremely small feet or mine were large, but we appeared to be about the same shoe size. Regardless, I would return her clothing much later when everything was less threatening and of course with an appropriate expression of gratitude.

Retrieving my cell phone from my purse (

Thank God it still had some battery left

) I called a local taxi service. It seemed like an eternity until the car pulled up to the gate. I pushed the button to allow them access and entered the car as soon as it pulled to a stop.

As we were driving away, I realized that I had left my heels. Oh well, I would just pick them up when she returned my dress: preferably in a neutral environment to offset the inevitable awkwardness of the encounter.

I was free and in the clear.

Directing the driver to the Mexican restaurant to retrieve my little Tiburon (

so humble compared to my ride last night

), I paid him and got out next to my little red sports car. I checked quickly to make sure that it had not been vandalized (

No, thank goodness!

) We had had some trouble with some immature boys and I was worried my little car would not have survived the night unmolested.

Instead of driving home to my empty apartment, I drove to the beach. I needed to be alone; I did not want to be confined.

It was about a forty minute drive and I arrived nearly at 1:00 PM. It was early still in the season. I realized that the long stretch of sand was deserted and I had no problem finding a parking spot at the public lot near the pier. I would have plenty of wide open solitude to contemplate my recent turn of events. I grabbed my floppy brim wicker hat from my car to protect my skin from the sun. I have not had much opportunity to sunbathe and I would burn in minutes in direct sunlight even this time of year. As soon as I cleared the path through the dunes, I removed the sandals and made to walk along the shoreline. I love the feel of the wet sand grinding against the bottoms of my feet as the last breath of the tidal ebb frolics around my ankles and the surf foam tickles my skin.

I needed to get my shit together or I was going to go crazy! The driving had distracted me from the reality of what I had allowed to happen last night; but here I was hit full force with the enormity of my actions and that there was a different future in store for me this point forward no matter what I did. Life had fundamentally changed.

Looking at the crashing waves as I walked along the sandy beach, I felt dissolved and chaotic like the wave after it has crested and crashed into uncountable foam bubbles. Last night had opened a lot of unresolved emotional wounds. I had been living a grey life for the last three years because I had been unable to deal with what I had done and what had happened to me. Right now, I needed to get my head on straight before I could function in any capacity.

The facts:

I had made out with a bestie; a girl and it had sexually aroused me.

I had run from that, fucked a male stranger to reaffirm my sexual orientation and had gotten pregnant.

I was involved in a vehicle accident and lost my baby and my friend

Last night I had gotten drunk and had my first true lesbian sexual experience.

I liked it (

a lot

)

I liked men! I had gotten pregnant proving it; hadn't I?

I might like women. Was this a problem?

I had to figure out what to do about it.

The more I thought about it, the clearer the memories of last night became. I began to recall some of the realizations I had made last night regarding my mistakes and the emotional costs. I remembered deciding that the accident had wiped the slate clean and I no longer had to carry the burden of lost friendship and lost babies. I couldn't do anything about my past, but my future was all in my hands. I also remembered my decision to let Lynne's life and mistakes end with that car accident. Now, I was Frances. (

I also remembered impulsively promising Anya that Frances was all hers. Blush!

)

I walked in the tidal zone where the surf ebbed and flowed. Here was a zone of safety for me at the moment. Everything was changing as each wave advanced and receded. The zone took every change and returned it to the basic elements of shore and tide. Nothing marred the marriage of earth and sea. It was time itself.

My footprints were slowly erased behind me as I walked. I had no past. The future was unmarked and featureless. I could go anywhere.

I passed the remnants of a child's sand castle and although it still looked like a monumental creation, one side was already being ground down and returned to the basic element.

The regularity of the waves coming to shore and crashing and then reforming was calming. I looked at them as they fell into chaos and realized that what appeared to be a catastrophe was only the formation of the raw materials of a new beginning.

I began to feel all was just fine with the world.

OK, I could handle this. It was no big deal; just my female boss (

although not a direct supervisor, she was still higher on the employment food chain than me

) was in the least infatuated with and wanted a sexual relationship with me. I was flattered.

I was worried!

I was not convinced about the viability of a lesbian relationship. I really did not believe that two women could form a lasting stable relationship. Somehow, somewhere, I just knew it would dissolve. I wanted something that would last a lifetime.

I picked up a broken shell and flicked it into the chaos.

But, I had been very wrong about the compatibility of women making a sexual union. She was really accomplished in making love to a woman, I could attest to that and blushed furiously even though no one else was around. Contrary to my inexperienced imagination; two women could complete each other and share a deep soul-bonding sexual experience. If there been the alien awkwardness I had been expecting, I would have been deep in regret about letting it happen; much like my initial reaction when I woke up this morning. However, it had felt natural to me as we progressed from kissing to genuinely having sex. Our lovemaking had been both familiar enough not to trigger any alarms and exotic enough to be absolutely thrilling.

I had gazed directly into Anya's eyes and she into mine as we both found ecstasy in each other's arms. I had experienced an intimacy unlike anything I had ever encountered and it was something I could not ignore. The memory of her eyes transfixed to mine as she intensely came made me feel warm inside and I realized that I wore a small smile from the memory.

I allowed that I might be wrong as regards other aspects of women in love.

Looking down, I spied a perfectly formed nautilus shell. I grabbed up my skirt so the hem wouldn't get wet and bent to pick it up. I washed it in the surf and admired how it had grown to allow the organism within to develop without fundamentally changing shape. I hazily recalled some discussion about the "Golden Spiral" and Fibonacci mathematics as regards the shell shape. I am not a math wizard, so the discussion did not mean a lot to me except I realized philosophically that real life creatures have infinite variables governing their development and it is silly to try to make them fit a precise mathematical formula.

However, there are real patterns in life and the universe does have some amazing coincidences. If someone wants to find a higher purpose in the correlation; there is no harm in that. But it is stupid to expect someone or something to adhere to some rigid and inflexible template.

I believe that, just like the shell's growth and its relationship to a mathematic progression, there is a cooperation between defined parameters and individual expression.

Unexpected circumstances often cause our lives and relationships to grow in unplanned ways. But if we react in a balanced thoughtful manner, that growth can be beautiful and still allow our organism to retain its identity.

We don't control what is thrown at us by life, but we absolutely control how we react; do we catch, dodge, or toss back whatever comes our way? Or do we just stand there and let things happen with the common result of getting devastated because we don't take any corrective or evasive maneuvers?

I placed the shell in a pocket and continued on my personal journey.

Walking to the pier, I replaced my borrowed sandals and carefully made my way along the worn and splintered wooden planks to the end. I looked out at the expanse of the ocean and realized the enormity of creation. I was still wearing the scent of my lover from last night and it made no difference to anyone but me. Here at the end of the pier it mattered not. I was the only one to whom it was important. I made the correlation and identified it to my life.

As big as events in a personal life seem, there is just so much going on in the grand scale. The small inconsequential details we obsess over only make a difference to personal stories and individual lives. Ultimately nothing was going to change in the universe regardless of what I did at this point.

I leaned over and rested my elbows on the wooden railing and stared at the horizon. Off in the distance it looked like a storm was brewing. There was a dark mass of clouds gathering and occasionally flashes of lightning would illuminate the massive formation. But they were so far away, I could hear no rumbles. At that distance, no one could tell what the storm was going to do. It could grow in strength and ferocity and assault the land, or it could follow a course that kept it over ocean and dissipate without leaving any trace that it had existed as a potent destructive elemental force.

I was looking too far down the range. Marriage, children, the rest of my life was still a long way off. I had no immediate romantic male prospects right now and I could be waiting a long time until the right guy came along. Right now, I had another wonderful and vibrant human being who was deeply interested in me romantically as a person, as a lover; as a woman.

So what if this relationship might break apart in the future? Every new relationship has that uncertainty to it and as long as I was expecting it to end, I would not be surprised and devastated when it reached its inevitable conclusion. Maybe I could learn something about humanity and love from Anya. She was certainly offering me a chance

I had to break this down to basics.

Was I happy?

Yes.

What made me happy right now?

Anya and her apparent interest in me.

Was it reasonable in this crazy world?

Is anything reasonable in this fucking world?

Could I bring balance to her?

Umm; yes, I think so. She seemed to lighten up when I was around. I couldn't say I knew much about her life, but I really enjoyed her company. I could love her as a person. She was really pretty and she made me feel happy. Flirting with her was fun and exciting.

Would she bring balance to my world?

Well, Last night was a new beginning for me. I had been trying to bury long dead issues over and over and had only kept them unearthed in the process. Last night was the first time that I had been able to look at them directly and drive a stake into their undying cores. I acknowledged what I had done and took ownership of my problems. I would say yes, since it had been Anya that had been the catalyst of my stepping forward; she was bringing balance into my world.

What was I worried about?

I guess I was afraid I would not be able to please her.

I really liked her company and she was fun and glamorous. I had to admit I still had the hero crush and was in shock that she had even noticed me. I did not want to disappoint her.

She was glamorous, worldly, and cultured. She spoke several languages. I was just an ordinary ER nurse. I had never even taken a vacation overseas. What could she possibly see in me? Could I keep her interest, if that was where this was heading?

Quite frankly the idea of going down on her scared the bejeebus out of me. I was not so keen on the idea of going "face-to-face" with a vagina; but I could not bring a definite objection to the notion. I guess it was just years of conditioned thought that made me balk at the idea. I have never baldly "faced" a pussy before so I could not say for sure that it was not for me. I know how pleasurable having her face to my pussy was. I think I could "bite the bullet" and try to bring her pleasure.

Maybe I was afraid that I would not like that aspect of sex with her and it would ruin any possibility of companionship and romance for us. (

On a deeper barely conscious level I was afraid I might like it too much and never get married or have children

.)

Would I show up for dinner at 6:00 tonight?

FUCK ME!

I did not know the answer to that.

I returned home and took a much needed and well-deserved shower.

I turned the little faucet to let the water warm up and regarded my naked body in the mirror. I lightly exercised about 4 times a week and watched what I ate, but was not fanatical about fitness and diet. Life is too short to starve oneself for the admiration of strangers. But, life is better lived with a fit body. I was proud of my figure.

I have a true hourglass shape. Even though I had been pregnant once, I lost the baby before the changes were very noticeable or permanent. The only lasting legacy had been a slight size increase in my breasts and the plum-coloring of the aureole surrounding my ever plump nipples. My waist was still tiny, but I had developed my wide womanly hips long before the pregnancy.

Entering the shower, I closed the glass door and let the warm water cascade over my head and my body. I simply washed and allowed myself to revel in the sensation of fluid liquid warmth cleansing my soul.

Last night I had realized that I hadn't even touched myself to masturbate in many months. I thought of the events of last night and let my body respond to the erotic images that played like a slideshow behind my closed eyes.

Kissing Anya was what had started the night to its inevitable conclusion and I recalled warmly the effect that our osculation had had on my neglected body. I felt my nipples respond to the memory and to the hot water and idly reached up and began to play with them. I grabbed the bottle of coconut body wash and lathered up my hands and began to massage my large breasts. The tissue had become more firm with the pregnancy and stood proudly on my chest. I hefted the weight and glided my hands over my sensitive skin. I supported them at the base where they met my lower rib cage and began to squeeze them forward. The action caused my nipples to further engorge with blood and to stand firmly erect. They are about as long as the tip of my index finger and equally as thick. I had been emotionally numb after my accident and was only beginning to fully appreciate their sensitivity and responsiveness. Mostly they had been an embarrassment for three years and I had discovered many techniques to conceal them. Last night, I had ignored my better judgment and left my house without wearing any underwear. It had been a disaster as far as my composure had been concerned, but maybe my body signals had given Anya a green light to seduce me. I think my nipples had stood at attention and not rested after she had kissed me.

I pinched and rolled my nipples between my fingers and felt the wave of pleasure thrill my core. I had not appreciated my breasts as my life had been a long grey nightmare for the last three years. Now I looked down and admired how they looked as I squeezed them together and mashed the dark aureoles towards each other to create a deep cleavage. They were each much bigger than I could contain in one hand. I recalled warmly how perfectly Anya's breasts had filled my hands as they hung heavy from her chest while she leaned over me.

I took my arms folded them, and raised my hands towards my head rubbing my forearms against the sides of my breasts; each movement causing the weight to shift and change stimulating me onwards towards my warm fuzzy feeling. I recalled how delighted Anya had been to play with my breasts and imagined her hands stroking, hefting and squeezing my responsive tissues. When I pinched my nipples, I imagined her face suckling; her lips suctioned around my aureole and her tongue flickering around my engorged raisin-like teat.

I turned so the water stream was splashing across my large ass and gathered more body wash in my hands. It had a warm tropical scent and I inhaled it deeply before rubbing my hands together and lathering my sizeable buttocks. I spent enough time in the gym and only had a little cellulite dimpling. But, Nature had provided me with a generous hip ratio and my body proudly announced its ability to make babies.