My Secret From Vermont

Looking back on it now, I could never have predicted what happened on that mild spring morning in early March when I decided to take Maisie out for a walk. I did wake up though that morning with a sense of unexpected vigor and a spring in my step, singing along loudly and very off-key to Girls Just Want to Have Fun as it blasted through my showerhead-speaker. I washed my hair, dried it, scooped it up into a loose ponytail and curled the end, placed the gold chain necklace my grandmother had given me around my neck, and finally threw on my pink cardigan as I attached Maisie's leash to her collar.

I stopped around the corner at Bartholomew's to get my morning coffee and crumpet and then began my weekly Sunday route to Kensington Gardens for a stroll. The sun cast pretty, shaded, dapples on the stone path, strewn with fallen petals and fringed by flower laden branches. Maisie barked once as a bird darted through the underbrush, chirping. The sun was warm on my face and everything that had been formerly dormant seemed to be coming back to life. I had a small garden on my back patio but nothing as spacious or luscious as this. I fondly recalled taking my grandmother here on day trips from the nursing home, how we used to go by Piccadilly and pack a picnic from our favorite deli there, and sit and eat it here in the gardens and wander the paths as she pointed out to me the different species of blooms. Before she got sick...

I rounded the corner of a particularly verdant bush as Maisie ran on ahead, tugging at the leash insistently. Suddenly, I caught sight of a flash of color. I pulled on the leash to stop Maisie from running on ahead and wrapped it around my hand to bring her to heel to my ankle. Maisie came bounding back, trailing along, sniffing the ground around my shoes. The sight that had arrested me was a beautiful tea rose the hue of softest pink. It was almost exactly the color of the sweater I wore that had been made for me by my grandmother. I reached out a tentative finger and stroked it gently with my thumb. Suddenly, Maisie gave an excited yelp and jerked forward on the leash, waggling her body. I could hear the light tread of footsteps rounding the bend and saw a pair of worn, black, converse appear. It all happened so fast I wasn't able to stop it.

One minute Maisie was barking, and the next she had jerked the leash completely out of my hand, and as I darted after her I collided into the trainer-clad stranger!

Her blue eyes went wide with surprise as the full force of my body bowled into her.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry," I gasped, backing away quickly, even more horrified when I realized that my hand, having gone astray in my desperate attempt to shield myself from the oncoming fall I had expected, had inadvertently brushed against her chest.

"Woah there, gorgeous!" she said in an accent I instantly recognized as being American. "Easy on the goods there."

I blushed horribly.

"I'm so sorry! I had no idea what happened, I swear I took my eyes off Maisie here for one minute and the little scoundrel pulled a Houdini."

"Well, next time I'll be sure to make sure I watch out for stray dogs and their pretty owners." She cracked an easy smile to let me know she didn't seem all that upset I'd nearly fondled her, and my heart give an odd little flutter in my chest.

"I'm Cara by the way," she said, extending a hand, and I was reminded once more how thoroughly American she looked and sounded. I took it and pressed it warmly, unexpectedly pleased by the strength and confidence of her fingers.

"I'm Sadie, pleased to meet you. And this little monster here is Maisie." I scooped her up in my arms and held her close to my chest, giving the top of her head a quick kiss.

"Mind if I touch her?" Cara said, "I love dogs."

"Oh, of course, she doesn't bite, she loves people."

Cara reached out and rubbed her thumb over the little ridge of Maisie's head and I smiled.

"She seems to like you a lot."

I like you a lot

Wait, what was I thinking?

I shifted Maisie in my arms and then placed her back on the ground.

"Judging by your accent you don't seem to be from around here." I said.

"Is it that obvious?" Cara said, and then when I looked worried she was offended she laughed. "I'm just kidding with you. Yeah, I'm here for a semester abroad. I'm an exchange student from Vermont. Figured I might as well spend my last semester of grad school here. I always wanted to come, and you have some of the best museums in the world so it's kinda an art history buff's dream."

"You like art?"

"Yep, my one regret in life was always that I was born without so much as a shred of real artistic talent. But I have an eye for art and I figured what I can't do I may as well study."

"That's really cool," I said.

"I like it," she said simply.

I smiled, and for the first time let my eyes really take her in. Cara was tall, about five eight, making her already four inches taller than me, but her legs looked even longer in the pair of plain, blue jeans she was wearing. She was simply dressed overall, with the effortless style of a woman who didn't like a lot of fuss in a plain, white, V-neck T-shirt and a pair of black sunglasses perched on top of her chin-length blonde hair. My eyes hovered for a moment over her T-shirt as it lay tight against her chest, accentuating her shapely breasts, and was reminded of where my hand had been laying just moments ago. I was even more surprised at the keen sense of arousal that flowed through me at the thought... The tips of my ears turned red and I wondered as her eyes met mine if she had caught me staring, and if she'd been thinking the same thing too. I was absurdly grateful when she broke the silence.

"I don't know if you would be interested at all, but next weekend they're having a cool street art show in Soho. It'll mostly be students, artsy types, that kind of thing. But I was thinking of going. Maybe we could run into each other again?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said. I might be free this weekend. I'll have to see." Suddenly I became very shy. Was she asking me on a date? Did I want it to be a date?

"Well, even if you don't decide to come, can I give you my number?" Cara asked, for the first time her voice betraying some uncertainty.

"Yeah, for sure!" I said, wondering if now I sounded too enthusiastic.

I handed her my phone, and she bent over it as she entered her number, a strand of her hair falling in her face.

"There ya go," she smiled, handing it back to me.

"Thanks," I was momentarily distracted by her blue eyes looking into mine and for a minute I didn't know what to say.

"Do you live around here?" I asked at last, surprised by my boldness.

"I have a place in Soho, near the school that I'm renting. Compton Street?"

She said the name as a question, as if wondering if I knew it. I didn't.

"That sounds lovely," I said lamely, feeling a shred of disappointment it wasn't closer to where I lived. "I have a flat in Chelsea not far from here," I volunteered.

"That must be nice, to be able to come to the gardens like this all the time."

"It is."

The conversation was in danger of lagging again.

I pulled on Maisie's leash.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," I said.

"You too," she said. "Maybe I'll see ya around sometime."

And with that, she put her hands in her pockets and strode confidently away.

I didn't want to admit that my eyes lingered on her retreating ass and stayed there a mite longer than was probably proper. God! What was I doing? I barely knew this woman and already I had begun mentally undressing her! I didn't even know I liked women like that. But clearly, I was wrong. No self-respecting straight woman would have been as turned on as I was by the things that had just taken place, and there was no use ignoring how completely soaked my panties were. God, she was so sexy. I wanted her more than I wanted to admit. But what did that mean? Did that make me a lesbian?

***

Later that night, after making a cup of tea and snuggling down in bed with Maisie, I couldn't help myself from playing the scene of our meeting in my head over and over again. The way her eyes had flown open in surprise, the pressure of her long thin fingers against mine, the way my hand had felt on her breast...I gave a groan. Had I imagined the reaction that I swore I had felt from her? Because I would have crossed my heart and hoped to die that her nipple had hardened and swelled in response to my brief touch. I huffed in frustration as I situated the sliding pillow behind my back. I was being ridiculous. There was no possible way that she would be interested in me. She barely knew me.

But she did invite you out, a small, persistent voice prodded.

I sighed. It was no use. Clearly this woman had decided to haunt my dreams whether I wanted it or not.

Against my resolve I slipped my fingers down between my legs and was surprised to discover how wet I was. I traced my fingers around my clit in slow circles and before I was even aware of it, an image of soft, white, hands, entered my mind that were decidedly not my own...Immediately I stopped and retracted my hand awash with guilt. I had only known this woman a few hours and I was masturbating to her! Surely that was wrong. But it had felt so good...I shook my head firmly. No, I wasn't going to give in. No matter how attractive she was I wasn't going to resort to that. I couldn't imagine looking her in the face ever again knowing I'd done that without her knowledge. I turned off the lamp and felt very satisfied with my self-restraint.

***

Though my conscious-mind had been determined to preserve Cara's dignity, my subconscious had a will of its own. My mind swirled with a kaleidoscope of images, sights sounds. Strong fingers were sliding over my body, down my stomach, inching down my sodden panties, as I let out a low moan, pushing them aside, toned arms were wrapped around me, pressing me into the bed as I wrapped my thighs around her waist, tugging on her hair as I ran my hands down her back, shuddering with ecstasy...

I woke, my skin covered in sweat, but I soon realized that wasn't the only thing that was soaked...It had felt so real! I hugged my knees up into my chest and put my head in my hands. Jesus, this woman would be the death of me I feared. My clit was throbbing insistedly with longing, God I was soaked! The sheets of my bed and my pajama shorts were covered in my cum! This was easily the most intense wet dream I'd ever had. My whole body felt like it was on fire.

I lay back on the bed and felt my heart racing at a gallop. I put my hand on my chest, and felt how erratic my pulse had become, how ragged my breathing. God this wasn't normal for me. I had had decent orgasms before, sure, with my past boyfriends. At the time it had always been good and it had felt like enough. According to a lot of my friends "good enough" was pretty normal most of the time. Most men weren't quite skilled enough to give a woman a mind-blowing orgasm every single time, this was something all of my friends acknowledged and accepted so, so had I. I knew how to give myself a pretty good one when I needed to; I had a good vibrator I could use if the guy hadn't been particularly awesome that night or for when I was bored that did the job.

And there were always all kinds of promising "tips" to be found online on how to have a better orgasm, how to make him make you cum really hard, etc. I guess I figured that one day if I felt motivated enough I'd look these things up. But I never had, mostly because the more I thought about it the more I realized maybe it was more than me just being the lazy one, that maybe it was supposed to be better than this...but the thought was strangely alarming and I'd pushed it away. That night was the same night I had the dream about one of my co-workers...

It had seemed innocent enough at the time. She was the newly hired publishing assistant, and as it happened, her desk was right next to mine. Her name was Delphine and she had moved from Paris to be with her British boyfriend Roger.

She was pretty, with very fine, almost translucent skin, chocolate-brown hair and bangs, doe-like eyes, and legs that went on for days that were shown to best advantage by the skirts she wore. She was a beautiful woman, and most of the men in the office had remarked upon this and even some of the women. So it wasn't weird in itself that I found her attractive. What was, was that I somehow couldn't manage to keep my eyes off her and I would completely lose my head whenever she was around.

Once she walked into the copier room to use the machine, and I was so nervous I dropped the stack of papers in my hand clean on the floor, scattering them everywhere, and when she offered to help me pick them up, I was unexpectedly sharp to her, insisting I could handle it. Her large doe-like-eyes had grown hurt with confusion and I instantly regretted how callous my words must have seemed. But it was too late.

Later that night I felt awful about what I'd done, and as I fell asleep I fell into a fitful dream...I dreamed I was in the copier room again, only this time I didn't drop the papers. Delphine entered the room, wearing the classic, pair of black heels she always wore and turned to face me. She put up a hand in a cheerful wave.

"Morning," I found myself saying, and was surprised by my newfound confidence. Emboldened, I smiled.

"Austin got you running a lot of errands this morning?" I said sympathetically.

She nodded bashfully, and swept a hand up to push her bangs out of her face,

"yeah, it's been pretty intense. This morning she sent me to get her coffee and I literally had to write down her order I was so afraid of screwing it up."

I laughed. "Don't worry about it, I had to do the same thing my first week. She's just testing you, it's how she weeds out the weak. She is a fan of the baptism by fire method." Delphine laughed and I was mesmerized by how light and pleasant it was. She was leaning against the copier and I suddenly felt the terrible urge to dart a quick glance down at her legs, housed in her black, Spanx, pantyhose. Instantly I felt ashamed and confused.

What are you doing? I thought.

She smiled at me and I smiled back, becoming more and more unnerved by the whole experience.

At last the machine finished and she collected her copies to leave, but not before dropping one onto the floor.

"Ugh, I'm so clumsy!" she berated herself, reaching down to grab it. "I hope it's not creased."

And sure enough, almost against my will it seemed, my eyes roved to her ass, the shapely curve of it suddenly right in my line of vision, arresting my attention. My mind descended even further into the gutter when I imagined what she might have under that skirt. Maybe a lace thong? She seemed like the type who might buy something like that. I was sure Roger loved the idea of that, of being able to slide his hand up her skirt, how convenient it would be to just be able to stroke her soaking wet pussy! I couldn't help but imagine it myself, how good it would feel to have her moaning and purring with satisfaction as I sunk my finger deeper inside her...Holy shit, I thought forcing myself to look away, what was I doing?

Completely unaware of the mire of my thoughts, Delphine had already collected the paper and placed it atop the neat stack once more.

"Well, see you around," she chirped sunnily, and headed back to her desk.

For a few minutes I just stood there, dazed and confused. Had she known what I was thinking? She couldn't have surely? Had it been obvious? I felt a moment of panic...and then I woke up.

I had felt consumed by guilt the entire next day. I could barely meet her eyes when Delphine stepped into the office to ask what I wanted for lunch since she was doing a sandwich run. I was perfectly aware of the fact that I had dreamed all of this, that I hadn't actually been checking her out in real life or anything of that nature, but the guilt remained. But whether it was as much that I was having these feelings at all rather than that I was objectifying our new recruit I refused to consider.

I had comforted myself the next day by doing extensive research and coming up with the resolution that it was completely normal for a woman to have dreams like this sometimes. That it could mean all kinds of things, that it might mean I was envious of Delphine's good looks, that on some level I just wanted to be her, that I was envious of her relationship with Roger because I was single. It didn't make me a lesbian, not at all. And even if the dream had been sexual I comforted myself, there were hundreds of similar accounts reported by women, straight women, of course. It was totally normal to have a one off moment of curiosity, healthy even. Satisfied having thus unburdened myself, I closed my laptop and slept peacefully and dream-free.

The next day I got up and went to Bartholomew's and purchased an extra coffee and muffin. I delivered them to Delphine and apologized for my rudeness and said the workplace stress had been getting to me. She gratefully received it and I left feeling that I had assuaged my conscience once and for all.

It all came back to me so quickly. I hadn't even been aware until now how much I had buried those feelings. How I thought I had dealt with them but really I had just pushed them away because they had been too difficult to deal with. It did explain a lot though, and how what I was currently feeling shouldn't have come as such a surprise. "Shit," I whispered to myself in the dark of my bedroom, "I'm gay."