All afternoon the word "lesbian" jumped out unbidden to ambush my thoughts. At first, I seemed to glimpse it as if from far away and I shied from it, sick and frightened. But as the day wore on, it drew closer until I threw myself on the bed and sobbed in an agony of self-accusation. I cried until I was exhausted.

In the calm that followed my shame, I thought of the kiss Sheri and I had shared that day, and the shame dissolved into pleasure. I put my hand against my mouth and relived the pressure of her lips on mine, the softness of her, the fragrance of her perfume. The shudder that had passed through my body when, all pins and needles, I had timidly, shyly, ventured to touch those lips with the tip of my tongue as she opened to me and drew me into her mouth. It had been like a wrestling match, her tongue and mine - her warm, wet, oh-so-delightful tongue.

I relived the happiness and excitement that kiss had wrought and thought maybe – maybe - I had not done anything so wicked after all.

I finally got up to go to the bathroom. As I released my stream my thoughts wandered again to Sheri. She was so normal, so feminine, the model of a mother and a teacher and a wife. Why was I so attracted to her? I washed my hands and appraised myself in the mirror. Nothing seemed wrong. Nothing seemed different. I had breasts and full hips like other girls. I wore lipstick and curled my hair. My eyebrows, the crook of my arms, the shape of my legs-everything was feminine. I held my fists to my cheeks and stared at the anguished image of myself in the mirror and begged God for an answer.

I had always thought of homosexual women as great, strong creatures in mannish slacks with brush cuts and deep voices; unhappy people standing apart from the crowd. I looked at myself, hugging my bosom in a vain attempt at comfort, whispering over and over, "I'm a girl. I'm a girl. But if I'm a girl, why do I love a girl? What's wrong with me? There must be something wrong with me."

But then I thought of Sheri, her clean wholesome beauty and her gentleness, her intelligent good humor and kind eyes. Surely, nothing she did could possibly be wrong. And Sheri had kissed me.

o-o-o-o

The meeting of the board dragged interminably. Sheri clicked methodically through the agenda, absorbed in the minutiae of swim team business. I had already given the treasurer’s report and was having difficulty staying engaged because I could not help dwelling on what Dawn had told me in confidence not two hours before.

“It’s true, Sara! I saw it happening,” Dawn whispered conspiratorially as we sipped lattes at Starbucks. “It was six years ago, before your girls joined the team, back when my own Kayla was just eight. Sheri was involved with another woman. And it almost broke up her marriage!”

Dawn was such a gossip that I discounted most of what she said. Still, who would not be interested in such a startling revelation? Sheri? Confident, intelligent, attractive Sheri? How could that be? Her life was, well, perfect. She was married to an engineer and had three beautiful and accomplished teen daughters, the oldest of which were identical twins. She lived in an upscale neighborhood, taught fourth grade, and was a natural leader who seemed to automatically gravitate towards running every organization to which she belonged. Although ten years older than me, she was my friend, my mentor, and even sometimes my confidante. Could it be true?

I watched Sheri covertly with new eyes as I sat next to her at the long folding table. How would it have happened? How did they discover their attraction for each other? Or had Sheri seduced her? It was hard to believe that Sheri herself could be seduced for she was so self-possessed and firmly grounded. How did they actually go about... doing it? Images flashing through my mind of Sheri and her friend making love left a fluttery feeling in my middle.

I came back from my reveries in time to second the motion to adjourn. People quickly filed out and I made to stand when Sheri put a restraining hand on my forearm.

“Can you stay just a bit, Sara? There’s something I’d like to discuss in private.”

My heart leapt in panic. Had she read my thoughts?

When we were alone, Sheri turned to me with a worried look. “Sara, you seem so distant today. Have I offended you in some way?”

I denied it, yet she had this way of just sitting, waiting, until the truth came out. She sat implacable while I squirmed.

“I heard something,” I finally blurted. “I don’t believe it. I’m sure it’s just idle gossip – one of those stories that go around about people… “

Sheri did not seem surprised. “What did you hear?”

I couldn’t look at her. I said in a tiny voice, “People are saying you had an affair with another woman. That it almost cost you your marriage. I don’t see how it can be true.”

“And yet you wonder. Is that it?” Sheri sat staring at her hands as if seeing things as they were long ago, and then looked suddenly at me. “It wasn’t the way people think it was.”

I sat next to her at the table secretly reveling in the warmth of her nearness, mesmerized at the light hair on her arms, the porcelain skin. She was a beautiful woman – tall, slender, and leggy. Her fingers were marvelously long, tipped with carefully manicured nails, her smile so wistful and gentle and welcoming. I felt a strong urge to rest my head on her bosom as she quietly told her story and listen to her heartbeat as her chest moved rhythmically with her breathing, swelling with swift grace under her demure tee.

Finally, she spoke again. “You know how men are. My husband Chris never seems to be content. I mean in bed,” she hastened to explain. “He was always pestering me to talk about sex - about experiences I’ve had, my fantasies, whether I do anything when he’s on a long trip. What was my first time like? Had I ever fantasized about being with another guy? Had I ever used a toy? Had I ever been with a woman? And on and on and on.”

Oh my gosh. I could not believe she was talking like this. It was hard to imagine such a formidable woman even having sex, although her daughters weren’t brought by the fairies. And now she was sharing some of the most intimate, personal details of her life. I found my face flushing crimson.

“I know,” I stuttered. “My husband is the same way. He seems to think that I’m secretly a porn star, or something, and I’m holding out on him. He refuses to believe that I’m as boring as I actually am.”

Sheri laughed. “Exactly! Finally, just to shut him up, I told him that I had a crush on one of my girlfriends when I was sixteen.”

“Lots of girls have crushes at that age. That’s not unusual,” I observed.

“Well, with Chris it was like throwing gasoline on the fire. I never, ever should have told him that. He pounced like a tiger. He wanted to know every detail, even though there weren’t any details. We never did anything. I never even told her I liked her or thought of her romantically. It was nothing, just a harmless teenage girl thing, but from that moment on he was convinced I fancied girls, and nothing would turn him aside from that notion. So, he started in on what it would be like to have another woman share our bed.”

I laughed sympathetically. “Isn’t that the fantasy of every man?”

“Probably,” Sheri agreed. “But once Chris gets a notion in his head, he is simply incapable of letting it go. Every time we made love he was whispering in my ear, telling me what it would be like in the most explicit terms, cajoling me, begging me. Had I ever fantasized about being with a girl? Didn’t I want to know what it might be like? At first, I tried to shush him. I said I wasn’t interested. That he was making me angry. But he kept on, night after night. And it made him so passionate, so vigorous, that after awhile maybe I didn’t mind so much.”

I giggled a bit at that, but Sheri didn’t notice, her brow furrowed in memory and perhaps relief at finally unburdening herself. She was silent for so long that I finally squeaked, “So what happened?”

“The funny thing was,” Sheri continued, “I actually did start wondering what it would be like.” She was the one blushing now. “I mean, I’m not a lesbian or anything. But who hasn’t at least wondered? She looked at me imploringly.

I didn’t know what to say. “I guess that’s completely natural. Everyone probably does at one time or another.”

She continued, reassured. “So, one night it was the same old thing. Had I ever fantasized about being with a girl? Surely I had! Did I imagine what it would be like to kiss someone? To make love to someone? Did it excite me to have those kinds of thoughts? And for some reason, I whispered back just as he was approaching his peak, ‘Maybe sometimes.’ And I thought he was going to have a stroke. He has never climaxed so hard, not even that time when I let him...”

Her voice trailed off and again she blushed furiously. She hastened on.

“We didn’t discuss it anymore that night, but next morning we were on our way to yet another swim meet when he broached the subject again, and he was serious this time. He knew that I wasn’t a lesbian. And he knew that I would never seek out a relationship with another woman. But wouldn’t it be fun just once to indulge a fantasy? To let something happen in real life that perhaps I had dreamed about? Would I do it just for him?”

Sheri gave a wry smile. “In truth, I had begun to wonder. It was exciting to imagine myself doing something so out of character, but I wasn’t going to let on to him. I sighed in exasperation and asked what he was trying to get at.”

“’I know someone that I think you’d like,’ he said. ‘Someone both of us would like. I think maybe I could set up something where you two could meet.’”

Sheri chuckled ruefully. “I’m afraid I snapped at him without thinking. ’First of all, there will not be a both of us. I will not even consider sharing you with another woman.’ And just like that, I had somehow agreed to meet Nikki, for that was her name.”

I was enthralled. “Did you actually meet her, Sheri? What was she like?”

“We met Nikki in a secluded little bistro one night when the girls were at their grandparents. She was there when we arrived, and I spied her even before Chris introduced us. She was beautiful, about your age, with the thickest, most lustrous raven hair in vintage, old-Hollywood glamour style that cascaded in curls to her shoulders and set off her face to perfection. Her eyes were striking, with dark brows and long lashes, an impish hazel brown that fairly radiated intelligence and an inquisitive nature. She had a Greek nose, powerful but feminine, a warm smile and an elfin chin. She was everything that I’m not – lithe, petite, and athletic - and I was in love with her from the first moment.”

Sheri smiled, remembering. “The conversation quickly became lively. The meal came and went, but I was so absorbed that I don’t even remember eating. Chris had lapsed into silence early on and I could tell he was feeling a bit left out. But he was still gallant enough to invite Nikki to our home for a glass of wine.”

“Had Nikki been involved with girls before? “I interrupted, eager for details of a world I knew nothing of.

“She had been married for seven years to a guy that cheated on her until she had enough and divorced him,” Sheri said. “Afterwards she didn’t want anything to do with men and became increasingly intimate with a friend who was also divorced and discovered she was attracted to her. They had an affair that lasted over a year.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Did you actually...?”

Sheri laughed. “Yes, we did, but that came later. That first night we just got to know one another. We had a glass of wine and were soon chatting like old friends. I really liked her, even though she was younger than me. She had a certain openness that made her conversation delightful and soon I forgot my anxiety. Chris tried to participate but girl talk has never been his thing, and soon he lapsed into silence and sat sipping his wine. Time flew by, and sooner than I wanted Chris had to leave to get the girls. It was awkward when he left. Finally, Nikki said she needed to go home. At the door she thanked me for a wonderful evening, and then...”

Sheri blushed and looked away.

“What happened?” I asked, a little too breathlessly.

She turned back and looked me full in the eye. “She kissed me. She kissed me long and slow and sensuously and then left me standing by the door panting like a teenager.”

Sheri held my gaze as if judging my reaction. I didn’t know what to say. My heart was thumping, my skin was hot, and I know my eyes were wild. Her face drew close, then closer, then suddenly her eyes closed, her lips parted, she leaned in and kissed me lightly, then with more passion. Our tongues entwined and I never wanted it to end, but abruptly she was gone, leaving me, well, panting like a teenager.

And now, days later, Sheri and I were sitting side by side on her couch. Our girls would be at practice for the next two hours and Sheri had invited me in for a glass of wine.

I tried to pretend that nothing had happened, that our relationship was just two friends getting together, but the memory of her lips on mine stirred me far too much to concentrate. Polite pleasantries lapsed into silence as we sipped Riesling and thought private thoughts.

I had to know. “Sheri,” I said suddenly, “Tell me more about Nikki. You know, about how you came together.”

Sheri smiled as if she had been reminiscing about that very thing. “Chris coaxed until I allowed him to invite Nikki for a visit about a week after our first meeting. I feigned reluctance, but I was curious how things might end up and wanted to find out more. We left Chris by himself while I showed her our recently remodeled master bath. When I closed and locked the bedroom door after us, I scowled at Chris and mouthed, “Don’t bother us!” His face fell as his imagination ran wild. I had never seen such a bulge in his trousers before - he was very aroused.”

I snickered.

“Nikki and I chatted lightly of the trials of remodeling,” Sheri continued, “then Nikki sat on the bed and patted the duvet next to her, an invitation for me to sit. When I hesitantly settled, she took my hand in hers and gazed into my eyes. ‘Sheri, I wanted to ask how you felt about our kiss the other night?’”

“’It was nice. Very different than kissing Chris. Softer, and more romantic.’”

“’Chris has told me how hot it would be to see you explore a relationship with another woman, Nikki said, ‘but I need to know - is this something you want as well?’”

Sheri furrowed her brow. “I told her how Chris had been after me for years to stretch myself sexually, and that he seems to think I’m some sort of prig, set in my ways, stuck in a rut. And maybe there was some truth in that, Sara, sometimes I wondered myself. Was this all there was? A feeling was growing in me that life should be so much more, that maybe I should take some risks, be more open-minded, live a little. It was at that moment I made up my mind, and squeezed Nikki’s hand.”

“’Close your eyes,’ Nikki whispered. A moment later, I felt her hand slip round to the back of my neck and a pair of soft lips touch my own. ‘Sheri,’ she breathed, ‘I need you to know something.’ She kissed me again, and I felt her tongue probing. ‘I’ve got a crush on you. I think maybe you’re just the tiniest bit curious what it would be like to make love to a girl. If you want me, if you let me, I would like to be your first.’”

“As you can imagine, Sara,” said Sheri “My heart pounded, and my mouth was so dry that I could barely croak, ‘I’ve never been with a woman.’ Nikki smiled, put a finger to my lips and said, ‘I know where to start if you’re willing.’”

“And she kissed me again. Her lips were soft and warm and seemed to fit perfectly with my own,” Sheri mused. “The kiss deepened and became more passionate and our arms slid around each other and we embraced. I was drowning in sensation, unable to think or process what was happening to me as tender hands stroked and soothed me, seeking out the swell of my breasts and squeezing my hardening nipples through blouse and bra. Then somehow I was reclining as she hovered above me, removing my clothes.”

I gasped. “So just like that – you let her?”

“Oh, I made a show of resisting,” Sheri said, but my protests were weak. ’Nikki,’ I said, “please, this isn’t right. Please don’t!’ But my heart was screaming, ‘Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!’ Nikki saw right through my warring emotions, confidently ignored my resisting hands, and relentlessly stripped me naked.”

I swallowed hard, imagining the scene and, guiltily, picturing Sheri naked. I felt a stirring low down as she continued.

“Soft lips plucked my nipples, sending shivers through my frame as her fingers stroked the sensitive skin of my stomach then quickly sought my sex.  I tried to push her away, but gushing wetness betrayed my arousal and she refused to be deterred. My will weakened and I gave myself over to marvelous fingers that seemed to know exactly what to do, exactly where to stroke, exactly how to apply pressure, so unlike a man. My knees of their own desire drifted apart, allowing free access to my wetness as electric vibrations radiated from my sex to the outermost parts of my body. Nikki gently stroked my lips, then traced my gushing furrow until I was half mad with lust, thrusting my pelvis upwards, body tense. At just the right moment, two fingers thrust into my vagina and a thumb found my aching nubbin, and suddenly I was soaring higher and higher until I agonizingly teetered on the brink before exploding in an ecstasy I never knew existed! Roaring waves of heat washed over my body and blood thundered in my ears as those fingers, those marvelous fingers, danced and teased climax after shattering climax, each more intense than the last, until I could take no more.”

There was a thundering in my ears! My face was flushed, my breasts swollen and heavy, and, shifting in my seat, I realized how slick my nether regions had become. I squeezed my thighs together in a vain attempt at relief. What was wrong with me? Yet, I had to beg her to tell me more.

It was a long story. Chris, of course had wanted to know everything, had wanted Nikki to come again the next night, had wanted to watch. Nikki visited often but Chris was made to ponder alone, distractedly channel surfing or scanning the same page of a book over and over, seeing words but not comprehending, the faint cries of female pleasure and his active imagination a torture almost beyond enduring.

In the end, left out and frustrated by Sheri’s refusal to share particulars of her liaisons, Chris at work one day had begged Nikki for intimate details, something to satisfy his volcanic lust, but what she told him only added to his frustration.

“I tell her what to wear each day,” Nikki told him. “maybe six-inch heels, or a low-cut blouse. Sometimes, when I know she’s in a teacher’s meeting, I text her to excuse herself to the ladies room and remove her panties, or lock herself in a cubicle and frantically rub herself while she listens to my whispers, her phone tight to her ear.”

She taunted him. “Right now, Chris, your wife is soaking wet between her legs. My red lipstick smears her nipples and her luscious lower lips. I made her take off her bra and leave her leather jacket gaping open just enough to disclose her pert boobs through her sheer silk top, her naked nipples hard and tenting the fabric. She feels alive, so sexual, and vulnerable, all things you’re incapable of making her feel. And when we meet in your house while the kids are at practice and you’re working late, she plunders me with her tongue until I writhe in ecstasy, then grinds her sex against mine, clit to clit, until we both shatter into a million pieces, hyperventilating because we forgot to breathe.”

That's when Chris had bellowed, "Enough!"

But something had awoken inside Sheri, something that had always been there, perhaps, but had been sternly suppressed, slumbering beneath an iron façade. The woman who was always the leader, the role model, intelligent and tenacious, learned to let go and discovered a part of herself that had been missing, a gap that Chris could never fill.

As Sheri finished her story, I found that I was panting, bosom heaving, as suddenly there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room.

Sheri’s eyes twinkled. “Sara, have you forgotten how to breathe?”

She leaned her face to mine. I felt warmth radiating from her soft skin and inhaled her sweet scent. My lips parted in anticipation as my heart threatened to burst my chest, and she kissed me.

She kissed me, while her eager fingers stroked my cheek and hair and traced the curve of my breasts, seeking the hard points of my nipples. And I kissed her back, and time stood still, and my blood ran hot, and arousal soaked my panties and wet the crotch of my jeans until it all became too much and I bolted from her arms, my soul a tornado of longing and lust and shame.

And now, in my own bed, I was in torment.

She kissed me, and I liked it. She kissed me, and I wanted more. She kissed me and planted a seed that even now was bursting upward through my core, seeking to blossom.

I argued with myself, over and over:

“I am not a Lesbian!”

But something had awakened. A whirlwind plucked at me, drawing me into a maelstrom from which there was no escape. And I knew, oh, God, I knew, that joyfully I would tumble in.