How is it possible to be so tired and yet so wide awake?
I was on my way to see Sara. We had been on the phone every night this week into the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday I woke up with the phone on my pillow – we had both fallen asleep while talking. It was great to know I was going to be with her again. I couldn't wait to look into her eyes while we spoke and hold her in my arms when we made love. It's funny how everyday things seem so big when you can't have them. Phone sex was great, but I needed to be with her, and tonight was the night.
I could feel myself getting wet as I neared her exit. She met me at the door wearing a short, gray skirt and a loose blouse with the top three buttons undone. The room was warm and filled with flickering candles that cast a soft glow over her face. I kissed her softly and held her in my arms not wanting to let go. We rocked to the sound of K.D. Lang playing softly in the living room.
"Hi," I said after a few minutes.
She smiled.
"Hi back at ya," she whispered.
She took my hand and led me into the living room. It was a big room, sectioned off with beautiful antique furniture creating small, intimate spaces. On the walls hung some of Sara's art, two pastels and one watercolor, which I especially liked. It was a shame that she could never have any kind of formal instruction. She was really very talented. Her home was warm and welcoming, very much like its owner, and it felt good to be there. I sunk into my usual spot on the overstuffed couch. She brought me a glass of wine and snuggled in next to me. We talked about our day and slowly made the transition from being apart to being together. The process of "shifting gears" as we called it, something we were forced to do on a weekly basis. I sipped my wine then placed it on the small, oak end table next to me. I turned and kissed her. Almost involuntarily, my hand slipped under her blouse. I could feel the thin lace bra that covered her breast and her hard nipple pushing up against it. I knew it was the black bra I bought her for Christmas. She looked very sexy in it.
"Not now – we'll be late," she said, placing her hand under my chin and lifting my face to hers.
"I don't care," I mumbled.
"We can't be. They're waiting for us."
I didn't think meeting her friends tonight was a good idea and told her that when we spoke about it during the week.
"When I get there Friday, I want to be alone with you," I told her.
"Can't we meet them Saturday night instead?" I had asked.
"I know, I know," she replied. "But it's the only time they can meet us. They're leaving early Saturday morning. The flight was already booked and Jen couldn't change it."
Jen was her best friend and, in spite of both their efforts, they had been unable to successfully coordinate a visit for years. Ironically, this visit was not planned by either of them. Jen was attending an unexpected conference in New York. Her colleague, who was scheduled to present the workshop, had a death in his family. Jen was the only one in the firm who knew the topic well enough to take his place. Since it was last minute, they told her Kelly could also go – all expenses paid. Sara had spoken about both of them so often I felt as if I already knew them. She was so excited that we were finally going to meet.
"Fine, we can go now. But later I'm going to make you wait," I said as I winked at her.
"Hmmm...we'll see about that," she said.
"You'll be begging me – you'll see," I insisted.
"Yeah, right," she laughed. "Like you will be able to wait! You'll break down way before I do."
She gave me that sexy smile and a "fuck me" look that made me even hotter.
"I didn't say 'I' would have to wait...I said 'you' would."
She glanced at me from over her shoulder as she reached in the closet for her coat. "You're bad."
"That's why you love me. Well, that and no one else ever made you come like I do."
"Let's go," she said as she grabbed my arm and kissed me on the cheek.
Dinner was delicious and her friends were wonderful. I felt as if I had known them forever. They had been together for years, 13 to be exact. Thirteen years, two kids, three cats, and a beautiful home they pretty much renovated on their own. If there was ever a couple that could be the "poster child" for lesbian families, it was them. They were still very much in love – you could tell by the way they looked at each other – stolen little glances, shared smiles, tender touches. Their kids were beautiful – well adjusted and smart. They were proud of their two mommies and their moms were proud of them. They told the "our kids are so cute" funny stories. How Sara's godchild, Amy, now four, insisted on calling the kitten she had gotten for her birthday, "Pussy," after the cat in The Owl and the Pussy Cat. We all laughed when Kelly told the story about picking Amy up from nursery school. Apparently, Amy had been crying that morning. When the teacher asked her what was wrong, Amy, with tears rolling down her face, looked up at the teacher and sobbed, "I want Pussy."
"Oh my god, that's exactly what I said to Sara last night!" I blurted out. "I had tears rolling down my face too!" Sara slapped my arm.
"What? I did...don't you remember we were..."
"TMI," Sara said, turning slightly red.
"Yeah, yeah...I know...too much information."
They showed us pictures saved on their phone. Sara couldn't believe how big the kids had gotten and I couldn't believe how awesome their house was – huge windows providing a picture postcard view of the river, high ceilings, beautiful moldings, a kitchen with every modern convenience yet not infringing on the integrity of the 100-year-old home. It was amazing. Jen made good money. She was named a partner in the law firm where she worked for the last 15 years. She thought investing in their home would yield more in the long run rather than in an unpredictable market. Even in a bad economy their house would still bring top dollar. Between Jen's income and Kelly's talent, they were able to turn the rundown foreclosure into a showplace.
