Hollie Morgan wept silently as the casket was lowered into the ground. She was gone forever, leaving a hole that she didn’t think could ever be completely filled. Her lover’s body would be consumed by the earth and for the first time in over forty years, she was completely alone. Trying to clear her mind of the sorrow, she tried to find a good memory, and her mind went back to where it all began…

 *****

Hollie had been raised in a small town in middle America, in a household that held very traditional ideas and views about the places of men and women in society. It wasn’t an especially religious household but she could remember very clearly, her parents’ disdain at learning that this celebrity or that was not heterosexual, saying that it was weird and sinful and unnatural. Such formed her own opinions about sexuality, girls liked boys and boys liked girls, it was no more complicated than that.

She knew she was attractive, pretty even; at 5’ 5” she was neither short nor tall. She was pleased with her figure — trim but not skinny, her breasts full and round but not what she considered large, her tummy flat and toned, her hips nicely proportioned and she had, she thought, nice legs. Her skin was pale and clear, with a few freckles on her cheeks and shoulders from having spent long days in the summer sun; she had long, wavy blonde hair that had a slight tint of red to it in a certain light, hazel eyes, and a small, slightly upturned nose. But she had always been conflicted about how she felt about boys. Sure, she had dated a few but she never was able to find that feeling she believed would tell her on which path she belonged. You know, sexually.

It got worse through college. She lived in a dorm her first year, her friends trying to fix her up with lots of different guys but her confusion only grew. She had heard about some of her friends and classmates fooling around with each other, pushing boundaries, and discovering new worlds. Her own upbringing had so cemented those traditional ideals in her, she could not even contemplate doing something like that.

It should be mentioned that these events are not taking place in the present day. Hollie graduated college with a Bachelor of Arts in the spring of 1956. She was twenty-three years old.

Returning home for the summer, she returned to the same job she’d had every summer, as a clerk in her hometown’s only drugstore. She desperately wanted to be a teacher but lacked the confidence to strike out into the world alone, preferring instead to stay close to home, living with her parents until she could find the job that would allow her to gain her independence.

A few weeks into summer, she was cleaning and restocking shelves in the small souvenir section of the store. Like many such stores in small towns, the drugstore stocked more than just drugs, medicines, and the like. She looked up as she heard the bell over the doorway ring; a tall, well-dressed woman had entered. She looked matronly, almost regal in her appearance, her short, dark hair perfectly coiffed, her make-up done just so, her dress obviously expensive as were her shoes. Hollie got up and walked over, greeting her customer, “Good morning, how can I help you today?” Why were her knees shaking?

“Good morning, dear,” this alluring stranger said, “I was hoping you might have something for my stomach, I have a long day on the road ahead of me and I’m feeling a bit unwell, I’m afraid.”

“Certainly ma’am, right this way.” Hollie led her to the aisle that had the small collection of stomach remedies and turned to return to her tasks.

“Excuse me, miss,” she heard, as she cleaned the bottom shelf, “this lovely crystal bell, is it locally made? I’m always looking for handcrafted items for my home and it is just lovely.” Hollie explained that it was made a couple of towns away in a small glass shop and that several local stores carried their wares. Normally quite shy, Hollie found herself willing and eager to talk to this intriguing woman, they made small talk as she browsed.

“Tell me, dear, is that a school ring? What college is it from?” the customer asked. Hollie told her about being a recent graduate, and about wanting to become a teacher. “You may be in luck,” she said, “I am on my way to the west coast. I’m the new headmistress at a private school in Eugene, Oregon and we’re expanding. My first task is to start sorting through applications for new teachers.” She handed Hollie a card. “Send me your CV, I might have something for you.”

Hollie was thrilled — such an opportunity and it had just fallen out of the sky! She thanked the customer, Miss Adele Hollingsworth according to the card, rang her through, and wished her well on her trip. “I look forward to hearing from you,” Miss Hollingsworth said as she left the store.

Hollie was pretty much useless for the next few days, so excited she was about the prospect of moving away and starting her life. She sent her CV and a copy of her transcript to the school the same day, hoping beyond hope that she would be selected. Three weeks to the day after she had met Miss Hollingsworth, the drugstore phone rang.

“Hollie, it’s for you!” called the pharmacist, “a Miss Hollingsworth.” She could scarcely believe it.

“Hello?” she said into the phone. “Good morning, Hollie, Adele Hollingsworth from Oak Hill School, how are you today?” She could hardly control herself, she was so excited.

“Hollie, my staff and I have reviewed your CV, your grades are very good, we were hoping you’d agree to a telephone interview.” An interview over the phone? She had never heard of such a thing and she told Adele so. “Normally we do our interviews in person but sometimes that can prevent one from finding the right candidate. As I have already met you, I’m sure a phone interview will do just nicely. Are you available later this afternoon?”

“I get off work at three o’clock, I can be home and ready anytime after 3:15,” she said nervously.

“Fine dear,” she heard, “we will call you at 3:30 sharp. Until then, dear.” The line clicked dead.

Hollie hung up the phone, rushed over, and hugged Mr. Beckett the pharmacist, “I have an interview to be a teacher!” she squealed. “I can’t believe it!” Mr. Beckett just laughed and hugged her back. He and his wife didn’t have any children, they had sort of adopted Hollie as their own.

“Good for you!” he said. He was genuinely pleased for her, as hard as it would be to see her leave. Hollie skipped around the rest of the day. At about 2:30, he told her to go home and calm down for her interview.

She got home, told her mom the good news, and refused to go any further than six feet from the phone. It rang at precisely 3:30; twenty minutes later she learned that she was the newest staff member of Oak Hill School.

The rest of the summer just flew by. When she wasn’t working, Hollie busied herself at the library, learning as much as she could about the area to which she would be moving. Two weeks before Labor Day, a week after her twenty-fourth birthday, her bags were packed, and she and her parents piled into the family Chevy and headed for Oregon. While there, they found her a place to live and helped her get some used furniture. Good-byes were hard and tearful. As she watched her parents’ car disappear around the corner, she sighed and wiped away her tears.

She showed up a bit early for her first day, the Wednesday before Labor Day. Adele took her on a quick tour of the small school, finishing at a small classroom on the first floor. “And this is your classroom,” Adele said. My classroom, she thought, MY classroom. Beside the tall windows stood a short-haired blonde woman, a few years older than Hollie.

“This is Anne Foster, our Kindergarten teacher,” said Adele, “she is also my Deputy Headmistress. She will be your mentor for your first year with us. If you have questions or problems or need advice, go to her first.” Hollie crossed the room and shook Anne’s hand.

They were of similar height and build, but it turned out Anne was twelve years her senior. They talked about themselves, their families, and what it was like teaching at a small private school. Hollie was immediately impressed by Anne; she was easy to talk to and possessed an obvious wealth of experience for Hollie to tap into. She would learn much from her mentor. Little did she know just how much.

The first day of school began bright and sunny but by lunchtime, the skies had darkened. By the time classes had finished, it was starting to rain. “No problem,” thought Hollie, “I have a raincoat and an umbrella, it’s only a ten-minute walk home.” She finished clearing up her classroom, grabbed her raincoat and umbrella, waved to Anne as she passed by her classroom and headed home. She had made it no further than the school’s front gate when the skies opened up, the rain coming down in torrents. She stopped for a moment before deciding to turn tail and run back to the school. By the time she got inside, enough rain had gotten inside her raincoat to completely soak her blouse.

Just inside the foyer, Anne watched as her protégé blasted through the front doors, her hair soaked, raindrops standing on her fresh, unblemished skin. She felt an unfamiliar stirring inside her. Anne had never been married. She came very close once, calling it off a week before she was due to be married. She had been intimate with men before and since but, while she enjoyed sex, it wasn’t the experience she had always hoped it might be. Looking at Hollie now, she wondered if she might now know why.

Hollie dropped her umbrella and shed her raincoat, droplets of water flying everywhere, including all over Anne. Realizing this, she apologized profusely, “Oh, I’m so sorry Anne!” she stepped back appalled. “God damn it, I’m soaked! Fuck!” she cried, then fell silent, shocked at her choice of expletives. Young ladies didn’t say such things in public in 1956; certainly, schoolteachers did not. She looked at Anne, aghast. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve never said that word before, not where anyone can hear me!”

“Relax, Sweetie,” she laughed, “I have heard the word before." Anne laughed and picked up the raincoat, shaking the water from it. "This didn’t do a very good job,” she said. “Come with me, I have a towel in my classroom.” She reached out her hand and Hollie instinctively took it. Anne’s hand was warm and soft, she had never held a woman’s hand and was surprised by its strength as Anne led her to her classroom. Hollie took the offered towel and began drying her hair, then patting her blouse down trying to soak up some of the water. That unfamiliar stirring came back to Anne’s insides, this time stronger; she felt a warmth in her core she hadn’t felt in a long time.

In 1956, women’s undergarments were not the brightly colored, lacy, alluring things they are today. Hollie didn’t need the support a bra provided. Her breasts were still firm and not so large that they swung to and fro when she moved so she most often opted for a camisole under her blouses. That was normally okay but now she was soaked. Her nipples grew erect as she felt the chill, standing out very obviously against her blouse. There was no mistake this time, Anne was getting aroused by her young colleague.

“I have a clean top in my locker,” she said, going to the back of her classroom. “One thing about teaching little kids, always have a change of clothes on hand. The things that come out of children can be rather appalling sometimes!” She pulled a floral print top from her locker and handed it to Hollie. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to wear underneath, sorry.”

“That’s okay, thank you so much!” Hollie replied, “I’ll just go to the washroom and change.”

“You could just change here,” suggested Anne, her ulterior motive swirling in her brain. Hollie hesitated. “What, you think I’ll see something I haven’t seen before?”

“Someone might see in the windows,” protested Hollie. Anne ended that argument by going over and drawing the blinds. She placed her hands on her hips and looked directly at Hollie.

Tentatively, Hollie unbuttoned her blouse, peeling it off her still-damp skin. Her nipples were really hard now, her breasts straining against her camisole. What is this feeling? she thought I should not be changing in front of Anne. Not wanting to look naïve, she continued, peeling her camisole off, now naked from the waist up. Anne tried hard not to look but she failed, casting sideways glances at the younger woman with the alluring figure. Hollie dried her bare skin and pulled on the blouse; with her back to Anne, she did up the buttons.

“There, that’ll get you home,” said Anne, “you can give it back to me whenever.” Hollie nodded, picking up her wet clothes from the floor. “How about I drive you home?” she said.

“Thanks,” said Hollie, grateful for Anne’s help. The rain had lessened somewhat as they ran to Anne’s car. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the house where Hollie was renting a small flat from an older couple. “You want to come up for a cup of tea? Perhaps something stronger?” she asked her mentor. Anne wondered if this was an opportunity she had not dared contemplate previously.

“Sure,” she said, “I have no place to be tonight.” She pulled the handbrake and shut off the car. Reaching into the back seat, she retrieved her umbrella, “I think this is big enough for two.” Hollie’s umbrella was still in Anne’s classroom. They got out and walked to the side door to Hollie’s flat, their shoulders rubbing together. Once inside, Hollie filled her kettle and set it on the small burner on her hotplate.

“I’ll be right back,” she said disappearing into the bathroom. She returned just as the kettle started to boil, holding the borrowed blouse in front of her. “Thanks again,” she said. Anne took it from her, placing it on top of her coat, which she had removed and set over one of the two chairs.

“Is this your first place?” asked Anne, “Not a lot of room, is there?” There was a Murphy bed in one corner, a small sitting area, a counter with a few cupboards, and a refrigerator at one end. No stove, just a two-burner hot plate. The only interior door led to a small washroom.

“It’s enough, for now at least, I have everything I need, and the rent is very reasonable,” replied Hollie. “It does get a bit lonely sometimes, especially when you’re new in town.” She hesitated, then said, “Maybe we could spend some time together, away from school I mean.”

“Absolutely,” said Anne, coming over to hug Hollie. She smelled of powder, talc scented with roses; her scent was intoxicating. Again, that feeling inside her, stronger each time it returned.

Hollie felt it too, each of them unaware that they were feeling very similar things. She tried to deny it — girls just didn’t feel like that about other girls — but there was no denying the dampness in the gusset of her panties. She shifted, hoping the feeling would pass but the shifting only rubbed the seam of her panties against her, arousing her even more. She wanted to break Anne’s hold on her, at the same time wanting it to continue. She hugged Anne back, thinking, “Should I?” Before she could decide, she felt Anne’s lips on her cheek.

“We should definitely spend some more time together,” Anne said softly. She was looking directly into Hollie’s eyes now, noticing the flecks of yellow and green in her irises. When she saw her companion’s pupils dilate, she knew that was a sign of attraction to another person. She felt her own womanhood dampen; Hollie wasn’t the only one. She breathed deeply, the scent was unmistakable as it overrode the odor from her powder — she was holding a woman who was becoming sexually aroused. She decided to go for it.

Hollie felt her cheeks blush as Anne stared at her, her face becoming hot as the blood rushed to the surface of her skin, betraying her wanting to deny what she was feeling. She had heard about women who were attracted to other women — she remembered her parents' disgust at such things — she couldn’t be one of those, could she? Try as she might though, the feeling in her core would not go away, her vagina was now not just damp, it was wet and it was getting more so. She looked at Anne’s face and studied her lips, she didn’t know why her gaze fell to them, it just did. Then she looked at Anne’s eyes, her pupils dilated. She remembered from her biology classes at college that when an animal's pupils dilated, but there was no change in lighting, it meant one of two things, fear or arousal. She knew then which of the two it was. Anne’s eyes closed and she leaned forward.

Their lips touched. Anne was surprised how soft they were, pliant and yielding. Hollie wore no lipstick; she didn’t need it, as her lips were a natural deep pink that was so beautiful it would be a crime to paint over them. She breathed deeply in through her nose, her mouth opening, forcing Hollie’s lips to part as well. Over and over, they kissed, their hands on each others’ backs and shoulders, pulling their bodies frantically together. Suddenly, Hollie broke their embrace.

“We can’t, we shouldn’t,” she said casting her eyes downward. She was so full of feeling, she thought she might burst, conflicted between the desire to kiss Anne again and the shame of what they were doing, brought on by her upbringing.

“We can,” Anne breathed, “but only if it’s what you want.” She kissed Hollie’s forehead, pulling her close once more. “I know what you’re feeling, I’m feeling it too. I have never been attracted to women before but by God, right here, right now I am attracted to you.” She leaned forward and brushed Hollie’s lips with hers, this time keeping her eyes open to see the reaction. She was not disappointed.

Hollie watched Anne’s face as she explained how she had never before felt attracted to women. There was no deceit in her face, no ulterior motive, just wanting, pleading with her to understand. She felt her vagina clench — she knew other, childish words that they used to describe their privates, but what she was feeling was not childish, it was all grown up. As Anne leaned in to kiss her again, all resistance melted away and Hollie knew she would give herself to her mentor, fully and completely. Her lips parted as they met, Hollie’s tongue flicked forward involuntarily, Anne’s lips opened to admit it and they were committed.

Where their kisses had before been tentative, explorative, they were now passionate, possessing a wantonness that betrayed their lust. Anne’s hand moved down and caressed Hollie’s backside, pulling their hips together. Her legs parted and Hollie’s thigh slipped between her own, she ground herself against her lover’s thigh, increasing her arousal. Their kiss broke again and they looked at each other and smiled, the sweet smile one gives when they realize that they are with someone special. Taking her hand, Hollie led her to the bed. She could not believe this was happening.

Slowly, between frantic kisses, they undressed each other, fingers fumbling with buttons and hooks and snaps. Hollie was entranced with Anne’s garter and stockings, as she had never worn them herself. Kneeling she asked, “Do these make you feel sexy?” Anne giggled.

“Way sexier than pantyhose,” she said, taking Hollie’s fingers and running them along the silky fabric encasing her legs. Fingers found the clips of the garter and then continued upward, caressing the silky fabric as they reached the little rose at the front. She willed Hollie to touch her dampness.

“You smell wonderful,” breathed Hollie, her fingers tracing along the hem of Anne’s panties. “May I touch you?” Anne took Hollie’s fingers and guided them to the damp spot in the gusset of her pants. “You’re all wet too,” she spoke so softly as to barely be heard. Her fingers ran along the cleft between her lower lips, and Anne moaned aloud at her touch, willing her lover to press harder against her lips, opening them and finding what was hidden within.

Pulling her back to her feet, she guided Hollie onto the bed, laying her down and kissing her softly. “I don’t know what you expect here, I’ve never done this with a woman before,” she whispered. Hollie looked at her and sighed.

“I’ve never done this with anyone,” she confessed. “I’ve never felt these feelings. I don’t know what to do.” She looked aroused and scared and adorable and beautiful to Anne.

“Don’t worry,” she said, kissing her way across her cheek to her neck, “we’ll figure it out together.”

“We’ll need to be quiet,” whispered Hollie, “I’m sure my landlord would not approve of this.” Hollie tried her best to mute her moans, sighs, and squeals as Anne’s lips traced their way to her breasts, caressing her nipples with her tongue. She brought Hollie’s hands up to feel them.

“Play with them, see how it feels to pinch them and make them hard.” She may not have been with a woman before but Anne was well practiced at giving herself pleasure and she vowed she would teach Hollie everything she knew.

Pushing herself up on her arms, Anne stared. “My God, you are beautiful.” Hollie blushed but instead of casting her eyes downward, she stared right back at the woman who was becoming her mentor in a very different, very personal way.

“So are you,” she breathed, “so beautiful.” She pulled her lover down to kiss her. Anne smiled and kissed her way back down her body.

Reaching her hips, she ran her fingers over the outside of Hollie’s mons, feeling the soft cotton fabric and the tuft of hair underneath. Hollie’s hips squirmed, lifting slightly to encourage Anne to go further. She felt Anne’s fingers trace their way along the line that her outer lips formed, pausing at the top of her cleft to press on the little hard nub that was there. Hollie gasped, “What was that?”

Anne looked up at Hollie’s face, shocked, “You’ve never played with yourself?” Hollie shook her head. “Well then, you are in for a treat.” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of her underwear and drew them down, unhooking them from around her heels before bringing them to her face to inhale the musky scent before winking and casting them onto the floor. Hollie was now completely naked. She thought she would be bashful and cover herself up but instead, she just lay there, reveling in the look of desire on Anne’s face.

She yielded to the pressure on the inside of her knees as Anne pushed gently on them, coaxing her to expose herself. She felt Anne’s kisses along the insides of her thighs, each one coming closer to her wetness. She felt Anne’s fingers gently on the outside of her labia, opening her up and exposing the soft, silky, pink flesh within. The anticipation of Anne’s next touch was almost too much to bear. Finally, it happened.

Anne looked at Hollie’s pussy, the soft blonde hair above and around it, the plump outer lips, the thinner pink ones peeking out from behind. She could see little beads of fluid clinging to the fine hairs nearest her opening — her lover’s arousal was almost complete. She leaned in and flicked her tongue against the little nub beneath the hood at the top of the opening. She knew that, as with all women, that little tiny nub was the very center of her sexual core.

Hollie gasped, then moaned aloud, quickly biting her lower lip to keep from screaming in pleasure as a shock wave went through her. She had never imagined she would feel this feeling of pure pleasure, of exquisite bliss as Anne’s tongue traced circles around her, her…. she didn’t know what it was called. She only knew that it made her feel wonderful. Anne’s ministrations continued to take her to new heights until, like water spilling over a dam, a rush of emotion enveloped her. She exploded, drenching Anne’s face with fluid as wave over wave of pure pleasure washed over her, her head thrashing back and forth, her hands gripping fistfuls of the bedsheet, her thighs clamping Anne’s head in place, almost smothering her. Still, Anne’s tongue worked its magic on her until she could take no more. Her thighs opened and her hands found Anne’s hair, pulling her lips from her.

“Oh my,” she gasped, breathing as though she was running wind sprints. “What was that?” Anne moved up and flopped beside her, her fingers tracing lazy circles around Hollie's still erect nipples.

“That, my dear,” she said, propping up on one elbow and looking at her, “was an orgasm. I take it that was your first one?” She was amazed that she had never experienced one before at twenty-four and told her so. “You mean you have never played with yourself, never explored down there, never had a boy try to put his hands down there?” Hollie shook her head, her blonde hair whipping sexily across her face.

“The only time I ever touched my vagina was to wash it,” she said, “I never knew it could feel so good.” She sighed and rolled into Anne, pulling her close as Anne started laughing.

“Vagina, is that the only word you know for it?” Hollie nodded. “Sweetie, that’s what it’s called in biology class. There are many others, I like pussy, most of the other ones are more vulgar to me.” Hollie just nodded.

“And when you touched that spot with your tongue, it just made me sort of explode, you know?” Anne laughed louder, wiping Hollie’s wetness from her cheek.

“Yes, I know, I almost drowned.” She licked Hollie’s wetness from her fingers and leaned forward to kiss her, pushing her tongue into her mouth to share the taste of her. “I think you need a little anatomy lesson here.” She removed her panties and then sat up, arranging a couple of pillows and then lay back, the pillows under her backside, propping her hips forward. Reaching out to take Hollie’s fingers in hers, she guided them toward her as she spread her legs open.

She moved Hollie’s fingers onto the soft, straight blonde hair covering her mons and surrounding her opening. “Touch it, feel how soft it is,” she implored. Hollie’s fingers tentatively brushed along her bush. “Don’t be shy,” Anne urged. After a moment, she guided her fingers to her labia. “This is my labia majora, also called the outer lips, see how they’re all plump, that’s because I’m aroused, normally they’re not like that.” She felt fingers move along their length. Taking her inner lips in her fingers, she continued, “This is the labia minora, the inner lips, they act as a kind of cover for your vagina, to keep nasty things out. See, they are a bit swollen too.”

“Because you’re aroused,” added Hollie. “You’re all wet and slippery, where’s that come from?”

“As I hope you know, intercourse,” she said as she guided Hollie’s fingers to trace the outline of her opening, “is intended by nature for reproduction. When the female gets aroused, she is preparing herself for penetration, she secretes this lubricant to make it easier for the male’s penis to get inside her.” She pushed two of Hollie’s fingers inside her canal along with two of her own, “See how slick it is? Mmmmmmm, I like that.”

“Now,” she said after a moment, “we get to the good part. Take my inner lips and pull them apart a little.” Hollie complied, “see how that opens me up? See how pink I am inside? Isn’t that a beautiful color?” Hollie reached out and ran a fingertip along Anne’s opening, making her shiver. “Oh, yes, like that,” she whispered. She let Hollie explore her labia and opening a bit then stopped her. “Hold my lips open please, see that little round bud, underneath what looks like a hood? That is called the clitoral hood, and the little bud is the clitoris, the clit. It has a bunch of nerve endings, that is what I touched to make you orgasm.” Hollie leaned in close to examine Anne’s pussy.

“What a beautiful creation,” she said, “so soft and velvety, and it smells wonderful.” She ran her fingertip across Anne’s clit, making her hips twitch. An involuntary “yes” escaped her lips. Hollie looked at Anne’s face, her eyes were closed now, her lips curled in a little smile, she looked like she was really enjoying herself. “Can I kiss it?” she asked.

Anne just nodded so Hollie leaned forward and tentatively stuck out her tongue, licking the hard little bump. Anne moaned and placed her hands in Hollie’s hair, pulling her head downward, willing her to latch onto her clit. “Suckle on it,” she breathed, “please, suck on it.” Hollie took it between her lips and latched onto it, suckling while she flicked her tongue across it. Anne’s hips started writhing, her hand grasping at Hollie’s reddish-blonde locks.

Hollie backed off, “I love the taste of your pussy, Anne,” she breathed before latching back onto it.

“Use your fingers,” commanded Anne, forcefully, “put them inside me and fuck me with them!” Hollie wasn’t sure what she meant but she put two fingers inside Anne’s wetness and moved them in and out instinctively. By Anne’s reaction, she knew she was doing it right. Soon Anne’s hips began to buck, and Hollie was having trouble keeping contact with her clit. A moment later her thighs squeezed together, trapping Hollie's head as she came. Hollie drew her head back, enthralled at the movements of Anne’s pussy as her orgasm rose, peaked, fell, and rose again. Anne’s fingers found her clit and she rubbed it furiously to complete the job. Instead of squirting warm clear fluid, as Hollie had done, a milky, slick fluid oozed from her opening. Hollie instinctively knew she should taste it. She reached forward and lapped it up, her tongue penetrating Anne’s opening just a little as she licked it up until Anne stopped her.

“Enough,” she said, “I can’t take anymore.” Hollie smiled. She had done it, she had given Anne the same pleasure she had experienced a few moments before. She moved up beside her lover and they exchanged kisses, the remains of Anne’s issue still on Hollie’s tongue. Between whispers, they kissed and nuzzled together. “You know,” Anne said quietly, “for a first-timer you did very well.” They both smiled.

“We’ll have to do that again,” replied Hollie. They had a small supper, some leftovers, and salad, after which they did it again. And again.

 *****

That was in 1956. In the intervening years, they had remained lovers, eventually getting married on a beach in Nova Scotia, once the new, progressive laws permitting gay marriage were enacted. They had learned together how to please and pleasure each other, discovered their likes and dislikes, experimented with toys and boys, handcuffs and restraints, had shared their lover with other partners in love and in lust but, in the end, they always came back to the two of them, naked in their bed, caressing and fondling each other until they fell asleep. But those are other stories. Forty-two years later Anne was gone and Hollie was alone. She felt that familiar dampness in the gusset of her panties after having recalled that precious memory of their first time together.

As she wept, a former colleague of theirs named Vanessa came up to her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, comforting her. “You know,” she said to Hollie, “when we worked together, everybody loved Anne.”

“Not the way I did, Vanessa,” sniffled Hollie, “not the way I did.”

“I know,” Vanessa said, looking directly at Hollie's face, pleading with her to understand what she was trying to say, “We all knew. I wished I could have had the relationship with Anne that you did.” She turned Hollie’s head toward hers and leaned in, kissing her mentor softly on the lips. “I was so jealous of what you had, I wished I could be part of it.”

Hollie thought for a moment and then squeezed Vanessa’s hand. “I can’t be alone right now.” Vanessa looked at her and knew exactly what Hollie was implying.

“You sure Anne wouldn’t mind?” she asked. Hollie shook her head.

“She would be thrilled to know I wasn’t alone. She told me so before she passed.” Hollie took the single rose she was carrying and tossed it on top of the casket. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered, tears falling from her cheeks.

Vanessa reached up and brushed them away, her touch feather soft through her gloved hands, “You really loved her, didn’t you?” she asked.

Hollie shook her head, “Not loved, love, I still love her, I always will.” She paused for a moment, steeling herself. “But,” she sighed, “life goes on.” Hollie hugged her and taking her hand, they walked down the hill towards the waiting limousine. “Have you ever been with a woman, Vanessa?” she asked. Vanessa shook her head no. “Well then,” Hollie continued, squeezing her hand, “you are in for a treat.”