It could happen (4)
We leave in Jill’s car. I ask her if she has a CD or something. I really don’t listen to radio all that much. There’s probably some irony in there somewhere. She hits a button, and Tracy Chapman’s presence fills the car. Her first album…and best album, if you ask me. I like this woman. I look at Jill’s profile in the moonlight, aware of a growing itch somewhere south of the border. And more. She catches me staring and smiles.
“This is going to be interesting.” She says. “I’m going…out with the Danielle!” Uh oh. Somewhere along the line I’d forgotten the “fan” factor.
“Might not be as interesting as you’d think…I hope you won’t be disappointed.” I say…trying not to let my disappointment show. A moment of silence.
“I’m guessing it can’t be easy for you,” she finally said.
“What can’t be easy?”
“Trying to decide if someone is interested in you, or their idea of you.” Once again, I am reminded that this is one insightful lady.
“My job does complicate things a bit,” I acknowledge. “Not too many people get that. You a shrink or something? Therapist of some sort?”
“No…not a shrink.” She laughs. “My Dad is…was one. He’s retired. He wanted me to continue in the family business…but I thought my life was hard enough without trying to solve other people’s problems.”
“I know that feeling.”
******
“So, what do you do, Jill?” I ask as we wait for our drinks at Georgina’s, an old hunting ground of mine back when my face was still relatively unknown, if not my voice.
“I work in advertising.” She said as the drinks arrived. Doing what? I wondered. But I didn’t probe. In time…in time. She smiled as took a sip. “God, I love this place!” I silently agreed with her. Fond memories of another time, another place. Well, several other times and other places...not to mention different faces.
There was a time when coming here had been very important to me. My way of reconnecting with the world, if only on a physical level. The lighting and music created for me the sense of intimacy lacking in my trysts. I would often pretend that the woman sitting across from me was more than a source of sexual expression. I would envision anniversaries, years of laughter; quarrels resolved in bed…a life lived in togetherness. Tonight is different in a lot of ways. I don’t want to just scratch that persistent itch. I want, for once, to make a real emotional connection.
We talk for hours. Somewhere along the line, she tells me about coming out to her parents, and her dad’s attempts to be open-minded about it.
“He tried so hard to show me that he was okay about my being “different”, as he put it, telling me he would support my decision.” She shakes her head. “I said ‘Dad, I didn’t just make a decision to be gay: I was born that way. That’s who I’ve always been.’ This is my dad, shrink to the stars.”
“What about your mum?” I ask
“Now, she surprised me. She said ‘Of course you are, dear. I’m glad you finally figured it out for yourself.’ Go figure. Here I was thinking I’d managed to hide it pretty well. Anyway, my dad got over himself in time. Whenever I take a girlfriend over, he asks if she’s the one, wondering when I’ll settle down.” Jill smiles fondly. There is love here, obviously.
“And do you take a lot of women over to meet the folks?” I tease.
“Hey…that’s not first date info. I have to be sure you’ll agree to another one. Date, I mean.” If only she knew.
“Oh…there’ll be another date. That’s written in stone.”
Georgina’s has a club on the second floor, and I ask Jill if she wants to dance. She smiles and gets up. That’s a yes, I think. My powers of deductive reasoning have not been diminished by wine, or the woman. Maybe the song would do it.
******
This is one of the reasons I favored this more than my other haunts. Saturday night, and Georgina’s is the one place you can be sure of soft music instead of the usual pulsating club mixes. It’s great to let your hair down…but I like a place that projects an aura of romance.
There are several female couples on the dance floor, bodies pressed close together, lost in their own worlds of love and pure lust. Jill steps into my ready embrace and I marvel at a new understanding of the phrase “We fit”. She rests her head on my shoulder with a sigh, locking me in place with her arms. I slide my hands across her back, as we barely sway to the music. Her hips rotate against mine, and I groan with want. I want this woman. I want to experience all that she is and all that she could be to me.
Her breasts are imprinting themselves on mine…on my mind…in my clit. My hands slide lower, and I increase the pressure…and her pleasure. She sighs again, and nibbles on my ear. I groan. I am so incredibly wet and ready. She turns her head, and I slide my tongue into her mouth…tasting…exploring, and wanting more still. Jill kisses me back with an eagerness that mirrors my own as I slip one thigh between hers.
“I want you…God, how I want you.” She whispers.
