Melinda strode confidently through the lobby of the Sweet Powder Ski Resort, while I followed slowly behind. Around us, people were headed out to the slopes or lounging with hot cocoa by the fire. I couldn’t help but notice the women who were nestled in the arms of a man, leaning against his hard chest.  

I made my way up to the front desk where Melinda was checking in. I heard the clerk say, “Oh, the bridal suite. Congratulations.” When I took my place beside Melinda, the clerk showed a flicker of surprise that there were two brides, but she winked at me and said, “Congratulations to you, too.”

As we dragged our bags over to the elevator, I asked, trying to make it sound like a joke, “So . . . we’re getting married?”

She smiled at me, “Well, let’s see how the weekend goes.”

I forced a smile but gulped hard behind it.

You see . . . I’m not a lesbian.

When I got a job working with Melinda Patton, a senior partner at Patton, Abernathy, and Schultz, I didn’t imagine she’d be anything more than my boss. The prospect of working under her . . . so to speak . . . was exciting . . . y’know, professionally. In twenty years, Melinda had gone from a young hot shot to the leader of a rising firm. Her intelligence and tenacity were legendary. Her sexual orientation was no secret either; Melinda dated other lawyers, some of them from her firm. But when she recruited me, I didn’t make any connection between the offer and her being gay. At my previous firm, I had built a solid list of clients, many of whom would follow me to Patton, Abernathy, and Schultz, and I was getting a rep of my own.

When she started asking me out for drinks after work, just the two of us, I thought nothing of it. At first, we talked cases, and I was excited to show her what I had to offer. But, as the talk became more personal, I suspected she was after more than my mind. Sipping her white wine, Melinda talked about how she was looking for someone to share her life with and looked expectantly at me. I nodded. When she touched my hand, caressing my index finger with hers, I didn’t pull away.

I don’t know how she got the impression I was a lesbian. I’ve only dated men, but the last few years I’ve been so focused on my career that I hadn’t dated much at all. A few one-nighters after drinks at a bar. The guy says he’ll call. He doesn’t. I don’t care because I’ve got more important things on my mind, and, to be totally honest, drunk guys are lousy in bed. I wasn’t looking for any repeat performances.

At work, though, I brushed off any passes and flirtations that came my way from male lawyers. I didn’t need the hassle of being considered a sex object in the courtroom and at the negotiating table. I’ve heard that spurned men tend to salve their egos by declaring the woman who rebuffed them a lesbian. I suppose that talk around the water cooler may have pegged me as a native of the isle of Lesbos.

There hadn’t been that many passes from guys, though. I’m not what guys call “hot.” Slender, yes, but I keep my brown hair short. My breasts are barely a handful, and my butt is flat.

However, Melinda was warm for my form. As things intensified between us, I started to notice how often she looked at me at work, especially when I wasn’t looking at her. She was checking me out. I swear she was even undressing me with her eyes. The attention was weird but flattering. My confidence swelled.

And, so, without ever intending it, I was dating my boss. Drinks turned into dinners and long moonlit walks in the park. One night when she was dropping me off at my apartment building, she leaned over to kiss me. I fought the urge to pull away, and, instead, I offered her my lips. At first, the kiss was soft, tentative. Her warm breath awakened my sleeping libido. Lips are lips, I told myself, and touched her tongue with mine. With my eyes closed, her mouth seemed no different than a guy’s mouth, and my lips hadn’t had any action in months.

There was a difference, though. For a guy, kissing is just the appetizer, and he’s soon hungry for the main course. But Melinda seemed to find my mouth a satisfying meal in itself. Her hands caressed my sides and teased at my breasts. I slid my hands along her back, afraid to go around her front or too far south.

Pulling away was an effort, but when I realized my pussy was warm and ready, I had to face the question, ready for what? I told Melinda that I’d had a lovely time and that I wanted to do it again soon. Bolting out of the car, I hurried up to my apartment, my heart racing and my body all electric. The “emergency boyfriend” who lives in my nightstand got lucky that night.

At work the next day, Melinda hustled me into her office and closed the door.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her lips inches from mine. “If I came on too strong . . .”

“No . . . you didn’t. It’s just that I’m . . .” Not. A. Lesbian. Are those words so hard to say? “Shy. I haven’t been with many . . . lovers before.”

“So, you do . . . like me then?”

I thrust my lips forward in reply and kissed her hot and deep. Only for a moment, though, since we were at work.

Honest to God, she was blushing. And speechless. “Well . . .oh, wow. Me oh my.”

“Meet you after work?”

“Absolutely.”

That night we took a walk and talked. She said she was fine with moving slow, something about anticipation whetting the appetite. I sighed, relieved to have avoided the inevitable again but still dreading the moment of truth. She’d be hurt, probably even disgusted. I’d be fired, of course. I couldn’t even imagine the water cooler talk. Would I be a spurned lesbian? A manipulative liar? A nutjob? None of those options sounded like another job offer would be forthcoming.

More than losing my job, though, I dreaded losing Melinda. She was smart and funny, tough as hell at work but tender and vulnerable when we were alone. I didn’t know the name for what we were, but whatever we were, we were close, closer than I’d ever been to anyone.

So, when she told me one night—while I cuddled next to her on her couch—that she was taking me to Vail for the weekend, I just smiled and said, “Sounds great.”

She caressed my hand. “I hope we’ll be able to get . . . very close up in the mountains.”

“Me, too.” What the fuck am I saying?

“Do you have skis?”

An out! Take it, you fool! “Uh, no, I don’t.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll bring everything we’ll need.” She ran her finger around my breasts, then down my stomach and into my crotch. “I can’t wait to explore the slopes with you.”

So, there I was, dragging luggage to a bridal suite with my girlfriend. Our room was cozy. The walls were grey stone. The staff had already started a fire in the fireplace. Two sets of skis and poles were leaned against a wall. The one bed lay waiting.

Realizing that the moment of truth would soon be upon us, I walked over and stared at the fire. Melinda came up behind me. Clearly, our over-the-clothes policy was moot in Vail, as Melinda’s hands swiftly slipped beneath my layers of clothing to find my soft flesh. Her left hand caressed my stomach while her right found its way into my pants and squeezed a butt cheek. Her hot breath panted against my neck.

“Still shy, sweetness? I think that’s what I find most fascinating about you. At work, you are as aggressive as me. Quick to jump in, no matter how deep the water. But when we’re alone, you’re timid as a doe.”

Both her hands sought out my clit and began to rub it. I opened my legs for her, and she probed deeper.

“It’s been such a long wait.” She nibbled at my ear. “I must confess, at times I thought you were a tease, but that’s just because you’re so beautiful and so exciting that just seeing you made my body ache for yours. I’ve longed to kiss every inch of you.”

Yeah, this is it. Go gay or go home.

“I care so much for you,” I said. “But . . . the thing is . . . “

“Don’t tell me that you aren’t interested because your sweet little honeypot is dripping wet.” It’s true. I was aroused, enflamed even. If I were home, the emergency boyfriend would get a hard ride. Several, in fact.

“No, it’s just that I’ve never done it before.”

She pulled out her hands and turned me around. “With a woman, you mean.”

“Yes.” I thought I was confessing. I fuck guys, not girls. Sorry for any misunderstanding.

“Sweetie, that’s okay. I was confused for years, too. I didn’t kiss a girl until law school. But when we went to bed for the first time, I knew who I was. Let me be that for you.” I opened my mouth to speak, but she held a finger to my lips. I could smell myself on it. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re not sure if you’re gay. Maybe you tell yourself that you’re not. But if you really liked being with guys, you’d be with one. But you’re here with me, even if you don’t know why.” She licked her fingers. “And, honey, you have a lesbian vagina that wants me as much as I want it.”

I just stood there frozen as she began to undress. Our eyes remained locked as she shed layer by layer. Not a strip-tease, but an opening, an offer. In seconds she stood there naked. The toughest lawyer in Denver was completely vulnerable, on display, mine to take or leave. If I rejected her, I knew her soul would shatter.

The snow outside our window cast a glow around her. She was beautiful, dark hair flowing over her shoulders. Full, round breasts. Creamy, supple hips. I had noticed her curves when she’d wear a tight dress, but her body was even more incredible standing there bare.

I had been telling myself that I was putting off a choice, but I saw then that I had made that choice at the start. I had only been lying to myself. I unzipped my parka and undressed. When we were both naked, I went up to her. We were both blushing.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” She led me onto the bed. As we began to kiss and touch each other, she whispered, “Listen to your body. It will tell you what you want. Then just do that. There are no expectations, no pressure. All I want is to be with you.”

Her mouth explored mine, then her lips sucked on my neck as her fingers toyed with my clit and massaged the lips of my waiting pussy.

Melinda laughed, “I’ve wanted you for weeks. Now you want me, too, don’t you?”

My eyes sank into hers. “Yes. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

She kissed her way down my body. Her mouth hovered over my pussy, her breath soft and hot on the engorged flesh. She lightly flicked my clit with her tongue, then poked the tip just inside the doorway of my pussy.

The sensation was as irritating as it was pleasurable. I was as horny as I had ever been, hungry, fucking starving, for . . . what?

She slid her tongue inside me, and my body shook with pleasure.

“I think you’re ready. I brought a present that I think will make all this seem a bit more familiar.”

She got out of bed, and I felt cold lying there alone. She dug into her bag for something. I giggled when I saw what it was: a strap-on. Pink rubber, in the shape of a dolphin. A big dolphin. She stepped into the straps then beckoned me to fasten it tight behind her.

When I thought I wanted guys, I thought I wanted cocks. I bought into the idea that a penis was the essential part of any sexual experience. True, a hot, hard cock feels good inside me, but the weird ugly things are messy and unreliable. They pop their corks too soon, and guys are usually more interested in putting them in my mouth or my ass than my pussy. It’s like they work at being selfish.

Melinda’s mouth was back between my thighs, but this time her tongue was working my parts in earnest. My quivering body felt like it was dangling over a bubbling white-hot cauldron of pleasure, about to fall at any second.

Then she left the dolphin dive in.

She was right; this felt familiar. Her cock slid smoothly in and out of my soaking wet pussy. Slowly and lightly at first but building in speed and intensity. I wrapped my legs around her waist as her hips smacked against mine in a pulsating rhythm. Above me I saw a thousand shining stars, then watched them explode all at once. I screamed with pleasure as the tiny sparks rained down on me.

Her cock was still inside me, now moving slowly and softly again. I was dazed, mesmerized by the gentle rhythm, every atom of my body rolling with the beat. If I were having sex with a guy, at this point I’d be wiping his sticky load off my stomach, and he’d be either snoring or trying to find his pants. But Melinda just kept softly rocking against me, her eyes shining down on my face. My pleasure was her pleasure. For guys, getting me hot and primed was only the prelude to their own orgasm. If I got off, great. If I didn’t, tough. But Melinda was like a musician, playing my body like an instrument. She got high just from the sounds and vibrations she brought out of me.

As the afterglow faded, her strokes grew stronger, faster. Soon she was ramming the dolphin as deeply into me as it would go, and I felt my body glowing like an iron in a fire. This second orgasm rushed over me like a warm river.

She held me close, and I realized that I felt something that I did not expect to feel. I looked at her and said, “I love you.” And I meant it like I’d never meant it before. The moment hung frozen in time. If she didn’t respond, it was my soul that would shatter. “I love you, too,” she said.

“I want to make you feel this good, too, but I’m not sure what to do.” I grabbed the greasy rubber dolphin. “Should I put this on?”

“No, but I can show you something.”

She took off her rubber cock and tossed it aside. She put her right leg between my thighs and pulled me close. Her thighs gripped the top of my right leg. I felt her hot, damp pussy pressing hard against my leg. She started moving her hips, rubbing her pussy on my leg and grinding her clit against my pelvis. I started to do likewise. Clutched tightly together and moving in sync, we moaned as one.

Homophobes have a “lock and key” theory about how vaginas are designed for penises. But, after I experienced my body pressed hard against Melinda’s, pumping in unison, no one can tell me that this is not how they’re supposed to work.

I concentrated on Melinda’s pleasure, pounding my pelvic bone against her clit. I wanted her to scream her orgasm so loud it would hurt my ear. Her whole body was shaking against mine. Every quake that rolled through her body also rolled through mine. I worked her clit like an engine. I wanted to hear that scream.

And I got it. When she came, she howled and howled. Her nails drug into my back. Her tears splashed against my face, and I realized that I was bawling too. We melted into each other on the bed, our bodies smeared with each other’s juices.

She was right. I knew who I was and where I belonged. I belonged with and to Melinda for as long as she would have me.

She gasped, “Well, that was worth the wait.” Melinda made herself laugh by turning two fingers into a skier and whooshing her over my slopes. “After we rest awhile, we can go downhill together.”

I felt dread again. You see . . . I don’t know how to ski.