In the middle of the night I got out of bed to investigate the light coming from the small kitchen of Natasha's unfamiliar apartment. I had woken feeling hot and disoriented after sleeping off most of the effects of the inadvisable quantity of wine that Natasha and I had drunk earlier in the evening on top of my jet lag. I'd flown back to New York to visit my oldest and dearest friend because over the phone she had said she was depressed.
She didn't see me at first. She was sitting on one of her favorite retro red vinyl chairs in just her white night-shirt and panties. The half empty bottle of Patron on the table became visible when she flicked a lighter, illuminating her beautiful, sad face briefly as she lit the hand-rolled cigarette that hung limply between her relaxed fingers. The strong but pleasant aroma of marijuana reached me as I stood for a second, watching her and thinking how lovely she looked, but how sad.
Sounds seemed to be unnaturally amplified against the muffled background noise of the New York City night. The click of the flint, the slap of the lighter on the table, the sound of her lips as she puffed on the joint, and then her breath as she exhaled reflectively. Unaware of my presence, she took a generous sip of golden liquid from the small glass then let it rest back on the table with a sharp tap. Maybe these were the sounds that had awakened me, despite my lack of sleep from the very early flight I had taken from London the previous night. Natasha had taken me out for a Rioja-fueled session at a crowded little wine bar called Vines or something like that. We'd talked a lot about how I had discovered that Nigel had been having an affair with a little blonde slut with perfect tits who was a receptionist at his law office. Natasha had mainly deflected questions about her own love-life which was also in tatters apparently. Because I was jet-lagged Natasha had taken pity on me, and we both came home early and fell into a drunken slumber in her king bed in her cosy, one bedroom apartment. It was dark outside so I had no idea what time it was, and I definitely hadn't sobered up. My sore eyes told me it wasn't morning yet.
Noticing there were two glasses on the table I felt emboldened to step from the shadows into the small kitchen, wearing nothing but my giant Marylin Monroe T-shirt, to take my place on the chair opposite her. The red vinyl was cold on my bare thighs. She looked up at me gratefully, and I wasn't surprised to see mascara streaking her beautiful face from tears of self-pity. The long pause was punctuated only by the sound of a distant siren and the tequila chuckling as it tumbled into both shot glasses in turn. She replaced the bottle on the table then looked up at me, her lovely, wet eyes reflecting a deep emerald as she raised them to meet my enquiring gaze.
She handed me the joint.
"Sam..." she started, but then tailed off, her eyes downcast once more as she decided how to proceed.
OK good, we were finally going to talk about Sam. I was there mainly to help my best friend through her break-up with the mysterious Sam, who had apparently broken her heart good and proper as they say in London. My head throbbed as I studied my beautiful sad friend. I admired Natasha hugely for the way she had built a successful career and for her incredible bravery in the way she made her way in the world. She was bold, intelligent and fearless. But at the same time, she had always been somewhat tender emotionally, even back in the days when we were at school together, and I was surprised how very fragile she seemed now.
It had been six years since she had moved to New York from our California home town in response to a job offer she couldn't refuse. I had hardly seen her in that time, partly because I had been swept off my feet by the adulterous Englishman who had persuaded me to move with him to London, where we had since married, much to my chagrin. Her call was perfectly timed so I hadn't hesitated in getting on a plane to see my old school friend in her hour of need. We were united in the unbreakable bond that old friends have, now rekindled by talk of my husband's infidelity and Sam's poor treatment of her and how, clearly, neither of those shitty guys appreciated the good thing they had in us California girls. Natasha was studying my face somewhat seriously, and I knew something big was coming.
"I know I should have told you this before, but Sam wasn't, I mean Sam isn't..." Natasha started hesitantly. We both took a sip of tequila and I waited. "She's ... I mean her full name is Samantha. She's a woman." She looked up at me beseechingly, her sad eyes seeking acceptance. " I went and fucking fell in love with a girl."
I was stunned. My oldest friend was ... gay? A lesbian? And, after all the crazy relationships she had been through, it had been a woman who finally broke her heart? I didn't know what to say as I sat there and tried to digest this news, thinking through her long list of prior boyfriends. Did I have any inkling this was coming? No, I don't think so. This was a complete shock. I took a long drag on the joint and handed it back to Natasha, which seemed like a pretty cool move considering the bombshell she had just dropped. She took it from me, searching deeply in my eyes for recognition of the old friendship we had shared for so many years. Then she puffed on the rapidly burning stub, filling the tiny kitchen with strongly aromatic smoke. This was an brave admission on her part. In that moment, I think we both wanted our relationship to survive this seismic shift. I took the joint back from her and, with some difficulty, finished it, coughing as I dropping the blackened end into the saucer that Natasha had thoughtfully provided for that purpose. It was strong stuff, and I found my head swimming. I wanted to go back to bed.
How do you deal with the admission that your best friend is attracted to other women and had never told you? Did she know? When did she realize? Was she bisexual? Perhaps she just been seduced one time by an attractive lesbian and would now go back to dating guys. There were many questions but my head was so foggy I couldn't even think where to start. Instead I picked up the tequila and held it up for Natasha to toast. She smiled and chinked her shot glass against mine.
"Cheers!" I said, for lack of anything better, and drained my glass in one go. She followed suit and we banged our glasses down on the table. We burst out laughing, both knowing that nothing -- not even this -- could break the bonds formed many years ago.
"Well, that's a turn-up for the books!" I said, and started to giggle at the meaninglessness of the expression. What the hell did it even mean? I felt stoned. The pot was making me dopey. She smiled, then started to laugh along with me. Soon we were both helpless with laughter. We were going to be OK.
She stood up from the table and walked unsteadily towards the bedroom. "We can talk tomorrow, but right now I need to go back to bed." she said, in a buzzed sort of way. "Damn it's so hot in my apartment!" and as she walked towards the bedroom she pulled her white top up over head, revealing her lovely lithe body. I watched her slim figure disappear away from me into the darkness in nothing but tiny white panties, and I thought how well she had looked after herself over the past six years. She looked really good from behind. No surprise that she would be attractive to a predatory New York lesbian I thought bitterly.
I sat there for a long moment, feeling a little high and rather bewildered at this strange turn of events. Who would ever have thought that Sam was a girl? I felt somehow stupid. After I don't know how long, I got up and looked around to check that nothing in the kitchen was going to cause the apartment to burn down, then I flicked off the light and followed her to bed. She seemed to be sound asleep. My bare feet encountered something warm and I realized it was her nightie. She was right, it was very warm in her apartment. Feeling reckless, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor with hers, then slipped into bed naked between the cool sheets, wondering what the next week of my visit would bring. Natasha had her back to me, but she stirred when I got into bed.
"I think I need a hug." She said over her shoulder. I could tell she was still very sad as well as pretty drunk. I felt overcome with love for my beautiful, vulnerable friend and moved up against her back. I felt the warmth of her petite figure against my bare body as I moved up against her and put my arm over her. It felt delicious but dangerously sexy to be naked in bed with her. She pushed her bottom back against me and I snuggled up to her with my breasts against her back. I realized she had removed her panties too -- she was also nude. I had rush of stoned pleasure at the thought that I was sharing a bed with my lovely girlfriend who had just confessed to a lesbian affair, and we were both naked in bed together. I lay there in stunned astonishment, trying to get a grip on the thoughts swirling around my head. I wondered if Natasha had asked me to come because she wanted me to take Sam's place in her bed. No, of course not. Didn't she realize I was a married woman, with a life, a house and a husband in England? I felt woozy and high and a bit confused. Everything was warm and liquid in between my legs. Somehow I was as horny as fuck.
"Thank you for coming. I needed you here with me." she whispered, and I felt very conscious of the globes of her buttocks tightening against my hips as she said it. The heat from her bottom spread through my groin yielding an increasingly pleasant inner warmth. She took my hand and brought it over her body holding it close to her chest, just below her breasts. I could feel her heart beating.
I was loving the sensation of being so intimate with her, but was it was wrong that it was making me feel so sexy? As I snuggled up to her, I could feel my bush pressing against the smooth skin of her perfect ass and I knew she could feel it too. My English husband liked me to have pubic hair, so I no longer shave down there. I felt woozy and lightheaded from the pot, and so amazingly sensual. A growing desire for pleasure was gradually pushing my conscious thoughts away like waves tumbling onto the beach until I couldn't think clearly any more. Marijuana does that to me -- it's a guaranteed turn-on that's led to some of the best sex I can remember over the years.
But although I was trying not to think about sex right now, it did feel awfully good to press my whole body uninhibitedly against Natasha's. I relished the sensation of being completely nude with my oldest friend. My girlfriend, I thought with a suppressed giggle. We fit together perfectly as we spooned. It felt lovely. The sheets were cool against my bare skin and her body felt hot. She pressed my hand to her chest and murmured in satisfaction as I opened my fingers to cup the heat of one soft, bare boob. Maybe she was falling asleep and had mistaken me for Sam, I don't know. Her hand was on mine, pressing it to her plump breast and I could feel her hard little nipple rising against my palm. It was very erotic, and I experienced a heady rush of love for her -- or was it desire? -- as I held her breast.
