The Power Of The Wind

Author's note: This story is intended to be entertainment for adults. (It's also my Earth Day Contest entry.) It's a lesbian romance, so it has explicit sex between women. It also has vulgar/profane language. Please do not read it if you are underage.

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My step-dad had died in an accident in the coal mine where he worked. My mom and I had taken it hard. She'd hit the pills and I'd hit the booze. I'd gotten treatment early enough to graduate high school with my class. Mom had gone into treatment later than I had. I was in my second year of college before she got sober, and she sometimes relapsed for the next year or two.

In college, I studied a lot of things, including engineering and energy production.

The more I learned, the more I said, "Fuck fossil fuels."

I helped conduct studies on wind and solar energy during my graduate years. I saw how those fossil fuel companies fought the facts every way they could: buying scientists, using pseudo-science and anecdotal evidence, lobbying lawmakers, and outright lying.

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I got hired a month before I earned my masters' degree. As soon as the graduation ceremony was finished, I got on a plane to the company's headquarters in Minneapolis. I was a wind farm planner with AEoTurbo Technologies. My mother was proud of me, although she hated to hear that my career was going to keep me traveling all around the country.

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The day before my 25th birthday, I sat on my hotel bed, flipping through channels. Nothing really on--but I didn't have the energy to quickly check out Kansas City, although it was only a dozen miles away. This day had started at 5:45 this morning, and I'd had to do a lot of driving and talking to locals and walking through fields, most of it under the heat of the merciless July sun. Tomorrow was going to start at 6:00 a.m.; a lot of these people were farmers, and they wanted to talk early in the day.

I loved this job sometimes, but sometimes I hated it.

Now here I was, another night by myself in some strange room and strange bed. I felt like turning 25 was kind of significant, but it was going to pass with nothing special happening. I'd call my mom and a couple of my friends, but no one would celebrate with me in the flesh.

Rising wearily from the springy mattress, I stretched, trying to loosen the muscles of my 5'7" body. I'd gotten sweaty; I wanted a shower before bed. Thanks to the wind, my short dyed-red hair had gotten plenty of dust in it. Hell if I was going to try to sleep with gritty hair.

The super-annoying blare of the room phone startled me and I stubbed my toe on the mini-fridge that sat next to the bathroom door. "Mother fuck it!" I hissed, but I hopped to my bedside and answered the phone.

"Chris Silvers?" squawked the voice on the other end.

"Yeah, who's this?" I said, not bothering to disguise the irritation I was feeling.

"I'm the P.R. specialist who's supposed to meet you; my name's Gwendolyn Mixon."

"Oh, I'm glad you're here. Do you have the materials you need to help me at tomorrow's meetings?"

"I'm not sure; the company didn't give me much notice; they sent me here in a rush. Could you meet me in the lobby near the call desk?"

"Gimme 20 minutes."

"Sure!"

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I rushed my shower a bit, ran a comb through my hair, and took the elevator to the lobby. There was a fresh-faced young woman with platinum blonde hair in two thin braids waiting for me. She looked like she was straight out of school--I almost groaned. Was I going to have to teach her her job before she was effective? I told myself to cut that out: judging by appearance was something I hated. She was going to get a chance in less than 12 hours to show what she could do. I was going to treat her like any other colleague.

"I'm Gwendolyn," she said, taking the hand I offered and giving it one brief, light shake. "Your hair looks wet; I didn't interrupt you, did I?"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Would you show me what materials the company sent with you?"

She looked flustered. "I left the stuff in my room; there's nowhere to set up here."

"That makes sense--but then, why did you want to meet me now?"

"To let you know I'm here, I guess." The blonde woman (the girl, really) fidgeted, playing with the end of her belt nervously. "We're going to be working as a team tomorrow. I hoped to get started on the right foot."

Making a long day longer, I thought. I forced a smile. "Today was kind of exhausting, Miss Mixon. What do you say we meet at your room at 6:00 tomorrow morning to go over our approach and our supporting facts?" And I'll be getting up at 5:30, I added silently and grimly.

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At 5:59, I rapped on the P.R. woman's door. She opened it so quickly that I knew she'd been standing at the ready. I felt ready myself: I'd gotten a restful night of sleep. "Good morning," I said, stepping into Miss Mixon's room.

"Good morning," she said. She scurried to her laptop. "Let me show you what I have."

After about 20 minutes, we'd divided our responsibilities for the meetings. Then we hit the road.

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It was not long before noon, and my stomach was growling. "These early mornings make me hungry. What do you say, Miss Mixon?" I asked, as I drove the company car (it was a hybrid) and my new assistant/partner navigated.

"That sounds all right," she said. "Do you have to call me 'Miss Mixon'?"

I glanced at her. She didn't look angry--in fact, she was smiling at me--but she had her arms folded in front of her. Her chest looked small even with her arms crossed like that; she reminded me more of a high school freshman than a college graduate. "What do your friends call you?" I asked her.

"'Gwen'," she said.

"Can I call you that until I think of something better?" I said.

She turned all her attention to me. "What do you mean?" she asked. Her eyebrows lowered a little in confusion or suspicion.

I said, "You don't look like a 'Gwen,' and it's too plain anyway. When I learn more about you, I'll come up with something descriptive to call you."

She huffed, but I could see she wasn't serious. "I think 'Gwen' is just fine!" she said.

Would messing with this woman be fun? "It is fine, but it's not you," I told her. "What college did you go to?"

"U of Cincinnati."

"They're the Bear-cats, aren't they? 'Bear-cat' Mixon--that's no good."

Gwen turned her eyes back to the road ahead of us. "When I was assigned to come here and help you sell communities on wind farms, no one said anything about this." She stretched back in her seat. In that posture, her thin legs--bare from mid-thigh thanks to her short but fairly conservative black skirt--looked very long.

"'Legs' Mixon," I said mischievously.

She turned pink. Eyes wide, she spun to look at me again. "Don't even think about calling me that!" she said, her voice rising an octave.

"Give it a chance, Legs; it'll grow on you."

She was scowling now. Her eyes were darting back and forth. I could tell she was trying hard to think of a retort.

Why would I give her time to do that? I quickly changed the subject on her. "There are a few places we could go for lunch. What are you in the mood to have?"

My ruse didn't distract my companion, but she and I didn't know each other well. She wasn't sure whether she should let the nickname issue drop. "For lunch, sandwiches are good: a plain old Subway or Jimmy Johns'll do for me. And we can continue our discussion while we eat," she said pointedly.

"A sandwich place? Cool: I'm sure you've noticed our company isn't especially generous with per diem expenses."

Gwen (or Legs) said, "I've never traveled for work before. What's per diem for us?"

I wasn't surprised that she didn't know; this had to be her first job after college. Well, she would be learning at a terrific rate for the next few months. I hoped she wouldn't have to learn too many things the hard way.

Just as I was telling her about our daily allowances, she spotted a sandwich shop.

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While we had our midday meal, I told Gwen what I thought had worked and what could have been better at our morning meetings. She told me her views. She tried to apologize for my having to answer a couple of questions that she hadn't been prepared for, but I waved her off. "It's your first day!" I said. "Don't worry, you've been doing a great job. Honestly, I was worried that I would be doing all the talking today. You've done wonderfully, and next time you'll be more ready for those concerns about 'flight paths of migratory birds.' We shouldn't have to address that anyway, of course. Those good old petroleum and coal corporations love spreading rumors."

Gwen looked thoughtful. "You're an engineer, but you knew how to talk about environmental impact. Is that why you're trying to spread wind energy? Is it environmental?"

"For me...it's more personal than that. I do care about the environment--a lot, actually. But I'm not a fan of those fossil fuel giants. No consciences.

"What about you, Legs?"

No one was close to our table, but Gwen went pink again. She glanced around to see if anyone had heard. "Don't call me that!" she whispered loudly, kicking my ankle softly as a warning.

I winked at her. What was it about this young woman? I didn't normally tease people. Hell, I didn't normally talk much, even to coworkers I'd known for years. I felt like a chatterbox in her presence! Was it her youth, her energy, the way she wanted to do everything right but sometimes got in her own way?

"Relax, no one heard," I assured her.

She glared at me an instant longer, but then she straightened up and answered my question. "For me, it is about the environment. I believe the science I've seen about global climate change. I want to help people make better decisions, and hopefully have better futures. I love Mother Earth; always have, since I Mom took me and my sister and brothers hiking in the Blue Ridges."

"That's admirable," I said to her. "Are you an outdoor type?"

"Oh, yeah!" she answered. "I still like hiking, plus canoeing and kayaking and I'd love to learn how to SCUBA dive. What about you, Chris?"

"It's been a while, but I like to walk in nature, too. I like spending time outdoors. I used to do a little bird-watching."

"I know what you mean," said my companion. "I don't think I could do the bird-watching thing; I have to be active when I'm outside."

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Our afternoon meeting with the county board went extremely well. They'd liked our internet presentation and they now agreed to grant us permits based on my site plans. The electrical utility, a cooperative, was amenable to our plans too. I was very satisfied with the progress we'd made.

We packed our stuff and got back on the road. I spoke to my colleague. "We've got stops in Butler and Marion counties tomorrow. Should we stay the night in Topeka and get going really early, or would you like to drive through to Wichita and do a little back-tracking?"

"You're the experienced one," she told me. "What do you think we should do?"

"Can you wake up at quarter to five?" I asked.

She made a face. "I'd rather not!" she said, seeming unaware that her expression had already told me everything.

"Then let's go to Wichita," I said.

She was busy checking her smart phone, however. "What about El Dorado?" she said. "It's kind of small, but it has hotels."

"Really?"

"Yeah, looks like three or four. And El Dorado's in Butler county, so we'll have less back-tracking to do."

I smiled. "Thank you. We should do that. I might have missed that opportunity if you hadn't been here. You did a great job with the Johnson county board. You've been a huge help."

"I made a couple of mistakes again," she said. "But I think I did better than this morning.

"Anyway, it was your topographic and geologic analyses that sealed the deal. Every concern they had, you had an answer. Back at the office, they told me you were good. You're not just good; you're a natural negotiator with training as an engineer. I'm surprised Mr. Schillingworth thought you needed me at all!"

"He was right. I'm a bad negotiator usually. You'll probably need to save us tomorrow."

"I don't believe that," she said, laughing lightly. "I'll just stay out of your way during the meetings!"

"Can I ask you a favor? After we get through Topeka, could you drive for a while?" I asked.

"No problem: I like driving," she answered.

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When Gwen did the driving, I was supposed to be navigating for her. However, we knew we were more than 100 miles from El Dorado after we'd left Topeka. My help wouldn't be needed for a while. I took out my tablet and started answering emails. Gwen and I engaged in light conversation every so often, but mostly I conducted business and she drove. She'd set up her MP3 player through the car's stereo when we'd switched driving duty, so I heard some of what was on her playlist. Most of it was stuff I hadn't heard before.

The drive went by fast, and when we got to within five miles of El Dorado, I put away the tablet and helped Gwen look for a decent place to spend the night. We found one quickly and it was probably $10 a night cheaper than it would have been in Wichita.

Once we checked into the hotel; we left our bags, found a Chinese restaurant, and had dinner. Once we got back, it was only about 7:30. I told Gwen we should meet at 6:30 in the lobby. Then we went our separate ways.

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It was about 9:00 and I was watching a rerun of Monty Python's Flying Circus when there was a knock and someone cheerily announcing, "Room service!"

I hadn't ordered anything.

My first thought was to quietly call the front desk and ask for security. Wouldn't that be overreacting? The person at the door had most likely made an honest mistake.

"Miss Silvers, room service delivery for you," called the voice while I hesitated.

Just as there are fanatics who hate fossil fuels and sometimes use violence or threats to express their opposition, so there are fanatics who hate alternative energy sources and use violence. I'm not paranoid, but I take care of myself. I slipped my taser into my jacket pocket and looked through the peephole. "I didn't order anything," I said through the door.

"Yes, Miss Silvers; the order came from room 232."

That was Gwen's room, and the girl at the door looked like hotel staff. I opened the door.

"Here you are!" chirped the young lady, holding a smallish rectangular red box with white ribbon trim.

"Thanks," I said. "How much did it cost?"

"Oh, the tip's been taken care of. Have a nice night, Miss Silvers!"

Inside the box was a very large piece of five-layered chocolate cake.

I went to room 232, box in hand. Gwen opened for me as soon as I knocked. "What's this?" I said.

"It's this!" she said, holding up her smartphone for me to see. The monthly company newsletter was displayed. She'd found the Birthdays section and she'd spotted my name.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" she asked.

"Because we had work to do," I answered.

"Yeah, but the work's over for today. Now, with the little time we have left, let's do something for you. Happy Birthday! Let's go to the bar and have a drink to celebrate your day."

"I don't drink anymore. I was never an alcoholic, but I did drink too much as a teenager."

"Oh, that's fine," said Gwen. "But we should at least relax a bit. What about going to the hot tub?"

"Hot tubs are nasty!" I said. "They're the perfect temperature for breeding bacteria."

"Really?" said the young blonde woman. "I didn't know that. How about the sauna, then?"

"Are saunas relaxing?"

"Yeah, they're great! Come on, let's try it."

As I was about to agree, I thought of something. "I've never been in a sauna. What do we wear, swimsuits?"

"That or underwear. You can wrap up in a towel if you want."

We split up to get ready and met at her room.

(We were both wearing shower shoes when met. I hadn't known how much her platform shoes had exaggerated her height. I'm only average height myself, but she was three or four inches shorter than I was.)

When we went down the long hall and past the pool to the little suite of rooms at the far end, we discovered that there were towels provided. Gwen had expected that. There was an exercise room across from the sauna. It was empty except for a couple of middle-aged women using treadmills and chatting while they watched Lifetime. My companion grabbed three towels.

"Why do you need so many?" I asked.

"You'll need at least one to sit on," she explained. "There are going to be hardwood benches in there, but they're going to feel really hot at first." She entered the little room and I was right behind her. She looked around and found a dial. Once she'd adjusted it, (I guessed the dial was the temperature switch) she folded one of the towels and put it on a bench. Then she lay another on the bench above it and let it hang from the edge. I figured that was so she could lean back.

I copied all her actions.

Then she took off her robe, set it next to her, and sat on the towel-covered bench. She was wearing a basic pale orange two-piece bathing suit. It had hibiscus flowers printed on it. The little halter-top bikini emphasized her long legs and made her narrow hips appear a bit wider than they were.

I hadn't brought a bathing suit. I felt reluctant to take off my robe, knowing what I had under it. But then I told myself to quit being silly; Gwen wasn't going to judge me by what I wore in a sauna! I put aside the robe. Wearing my grey cotton sports bra-and-boy-shorts-set, I sat on my bench.

"It's going to get really hot and humid now!" Gwen said. "Relax your muscles. Let yourself sweat out the tension."

That sounded like good advice. I sat back, closed my eyes, let my arms and legs dangle, and concentrated on slowing my breathing. "How long does the company want you to travel with me?" I asked.

"Until you're finished with this 'goodwill tour,' I think," she said. "They want me to be a representative to shareholders and venture capitalists eventually. My boss said I'd learn a lot on this trip, trying to convince natives that we've got a great plan for the future and they should be a part of it."

"This trip's not going to be finished for three weeks," I said. "Do you think you'll be able to stick through the whole thing? The workdays can be really long."

She said, "I'm up for it."

"Nice spirit!" I said, smiling in her direction. "It's been said that 90% of success is showing up. You've got drive, Legs; you'll be successful."

Now she'd yell at me, of course. I smirked and waited to hear her rebuke.

Instead, I heard nothing at all.

Wondering what had happened, I opened my eyes.

I gasped. Gwen was standing right above me, her nose less than an inch from mine. Her cheeks were slightly flushed. I got a great look at her eyes. They were a fascinating deep clear blue, like sapphire. "I'll shut that smart mouth of yours," she whispered. She struck like a cobra, stealing a kiss from my open lips.

She smugly stared into my wide eyes. "I don't just take it; I dish it out!" she said.

Interesting! I had to see what would happen next. "Sure you do, Legs," I murmured.

Only a moment's hesitation and she kissed me again. This time, I kissed back. Her eyelids drew closer together, but she seemed determined to test my resolve, even as I was testing hers.

Her skin glistened with sweat. The smell of her perspiration mixed with the scent of her perfume. The light of defiance flashed from her eyes.

My heart thumped. "Legs! Legs, Legs, Legs, Legs, Legs, Legs, Le--"

Her knees were on either side of my thighs. She sank lower and sat on my lap. She cut off my chanting with a long French kiss that made the sauna seem cool by comparison. I closed my eyes again and enjoyed the delicate, satisfying touch of her soft lips and slippery tongue.