Elena
Lily was never one to stay the night, so predictably I woke up quite alone, but with no regrets, save one, the fact that nothing I was doing with her was about her but about someone else. Tamara. My Tamara. Wait, did I actually say that, even in my mind?
My
Tamara? No, no, no, not good, I was getting in way too deep, I had to guard my heart better. I already knew straight girls were a guaranteed heartache, that even if they dipped their toes (or more) in the lovely pool of lesbian passion, they would go back. Back to men. Away from me, from us, away from the path of woman on woman love, no matter how good or amazing. Shit.
I already knew I was in trouble, something about her just wrapped around my heart like a warm wonderful blanket, and the feeling was so good that I wanted it to last forever. I had felt this way about someone once before, and at least she was gay and thus attainable, but after a year things fell apart. I realized in that moment just how strongly I locked my heart up so that I would never feel that way again.
I walked slowly into the bathroom and started brushing my teeth. How on earth did I let this happen? I had chemistry with other women before and it hadn't had this effect on me. I was no player, but I had fun and didn't get clingy or form attachments. So why her? Why now? I looked at my reflection for a second, and then stopped brushing, and then rinsed my mouth out, leaving a minty taste behind.
All at once it hit me. I was good at keeping my guard up because I expected to feel things, not just attraction, but more. I knew I was attracted to other women, and had my share of fun with lesbians and bi girls alike. But the fact that they were potential relationship material would put me on guard and on my toes. With Tamara, I knew at the outset that it was impossible, and could never happen, and because of that I didn't filter my feelings at all. She was the wildcard. Once again. Shit.
Tamara
When I got up the next morning, Alan muttered something about me talking in my sleep, but added that it was unintelligible like everything else I said. Normally I would say nothing that might piss him off and hit me, but I felt different now. Stronger. Smarter. Empowered. Not a victim. The fear that usually gripped me was all but gone, and there was no way in hell I was just going to let that comment slide.
"You know, that's pretty disrespectful," I said, adding, "I would think just leaving out the snide comment would be nice for a change." My tone was firm, but not angry, and it felt damned good to finally stand up to him. At his core, I knew Alan was a scared little boy that used bluster to cover his insecurities. In my case that often got physical. But not today.
Alan stopped and turned around, dressed in pajama shorts and a faded blue t-shirt that didn't fit very well. His face was getting red. "What the
hell
did you say to me?" he said, partly from shock and partly from anger.
I smiled, resisting the nagging impulse to back down, but exhilarated at the inner strength that had surfaced in me. "Let me rephrase. Don't make your fragile ego stronger by trying to tear down mine," I said, voice still firm but calm. For a second, I feared I hadn't thought this through too well, but then I remembered how I felt while my fingers danced over the clay in the pottery well. I deserved better than this. Lots better.
Alan stormed over to me and grabbed my arm, which was usually a prelude to slamming me against the wall or sending me crashing me into something. Fortunately it was my left arm, so my dominant one was free to grab a fairly study statuette that sat on his side of the bed, some kind of award from years past. Gripping it firmly, I swung it as his unsuspecting head, landing a blow that made him release me and forced him off balance. He crashed into a shelf full of photos from our wedding, shattering them and sending shards of glass everywhere.
He was dazed for a moment, and the rage on his face showed me what his intentions were. Rising to his feet, he lunged for me, and I stepped to one side and cracked him over the back of the head with my new found club. This time, Alan howled in pain, and when he got up from the floor there was a totally new expression on his face: fear. I stepped toward him as he got back up, not close enough for him to reach me but to hit him again if that was what needed to happen.
"Here's what's going to happen, Alan. You are going to get your sorry ass up, get dressed and get the hell out of my house!" I said, this time with a raised voice. I wasn't exaggerating, it
was
my house, a gift from my father after graduating and getting my first job. Looking back, I had been reluctant to accept it, but ended up caving. Now it was my salvation. "
NOW
!"
Alan was speechless as he grabbed some jeans and a shirt and scurried off so fast I thought he might trip and fall on his own just trying to get away from me. Did that really just happen? Did I just beat the hell out of my abusive husband and throw him out of the house? Damn straight! For the next hour, I made an entire series of phone calls, first to a locksmith to change the locks on the house, second, to a divorce lawyer that would start drawing up the paperwork and filing a restraining order against Alan, and finally to Bessmer Insurance advising them of some pretty damning evidence that would show them the cause of their missing money.
Elena
Several days passed without a word from Tamara, which concerned me quite a bit. I was worried that my edgy flirting had crossed the line and either scared or offended her, and that made me both sad and frightened. I tried telling myself it was something else, but when you lie to yourself, you can see right through it. As I was about to give up all hope, my phone chimed, a simple message that read,
'Hey girl. Sorry for the wait, had lots going on that I will tell you about. Miss you a bunch!'
I felt my stomach flip over several times, relieved that I had not somehow driven her off. Wanting to respond quickly, I responded,
'Oh good, honestly was getting worried. Hey, if you are free, having a party at my house, would love to see you there. I have a pool, bring a swimsuit. Festivities start at six!'
'See you there.'
Tamara responded, with a smiley face.
My house isn't enormous, but built perfectly for entertaining, with everything on a single floor except the master suite, which just added to my privacy. I chose a sleek black bikini with silver clasps on the sides of the slightly showy bottoms, and another just below a generous view of my cleavage, not obscene but enough to look sexy as hell. It was a quarter after six, and the party was in full swing, with lots of chatter and laughter just the way I liked it. The crowd was mixed, some straight couples, some single, one gay couple and several lesbians. I just hoped Tamara would feel comfortable and not out of place.
About ten minutes later, I heard her voice as she made her way into the crowded main room, dressed in a colorful wrap that looked incredibly cute. I watched a few male heads turn as she entered, and several female heads as well. She did look pretty amazing, though I was intrigued at what her swimsuit would look like. I could feel something different, an energy about her that was both amazing and sexy. Tamara threw her arms around me enthusiastically which almost knocked me off balance. "Hey girl!" she said in my ear.
"Hey yourself! You look fabulous!" I managed to say as she stepped back.
Tamara took a look at my attire and smiled, it was more than friendly and less than sexual, but she gave me an appraising glance and a smile. "You look so amazing in that. Just amazing," she said softy. No one else was really paying attention to us, but her eyes seemed drawn to my breasts, though I could see she was trying to be subtle about it. It was a cross between appreciation and fascination, but it had enough sexual tension to make us both get a little pink in the cheeks.
