Part 2

Elena

When I opened my eyes, I was groggy enough that it took me several seconds to remember where I was. I blinked a few times to let the room come into focus, and I could see the sheer curtains in my bedroom dancing in the breeze coming through my window. I smiled to myself, remembering that I had brought those drapes to every home I lived in as an adult, and about the only thing from my childhood that I still owned. As I gradually became more awake, I remembered the great time I had the previous night with Tamara, the woman who hadn’t wanted to be at that party any more than me. The woman that was absolutely wonderful company, one that I was very attracted to, but also a woman that was married and very straight.

While certainly experienced, I am not an expert in dating and relationships, but I know chemistry when I see it, or more accurately, feel it, and I definitely felt it. I could tell that Tamara stayed pretty guarded, which made sense given the kind of self-absorbed asshole she was married to. Even so, she had let her façade slip a bit, and by the end of the night, had let me see the real her. The real Tamara was smart, funny, engaging, playful and a blast to be around. Straight or not, we hit it off and she responded to me, even after finding out my sexual orientation. In fact, it didn’t even faze her, which just made me like her all the more. I gave her attention and she ate it up like cotton candy, not in a pathetic, needy way, but in a good way. I had just met her but already liked the hell out of her.

So the question in my mind was, how could I let her know I had a great time being around her that didn’t come across as creepy or uncomfortable? Calling or texting her would seem too pushy, plus if Alan saw it I sense it would go badly for her. Just then I remembered that she had given me her business card, which made me smile. She had taken the initiative, the first step, a fact which delighted me but at the same time, something I didn’t want to read too much into.

I reached down to the floor and retrieved my little black purse (I affectionately refer to it as my “party purse”) and retrieved the card and stared at it for a second. Her business address was printed in small letters on the bottom right, making the corners of my mouth curve upwards into a goofy grin. I had an idea, one that hopefully would be both clever and nonthreatening. Grabbing my cell phone off the nightstand, I dialed the number of a local florist I used on occasion and they answered on the second ring.

“Best Buds, how can I help you?” came the familiar voice of the owner, an old and dear friend of mine.

“Hey Hank! It’s Elena!” I said, my voice unusually chipper.

“Uh oh, I know that tone all too well, so you have finally found yourself a new girl?” Hank joked, knowing my last breakup a year ago had been rather acrid.

“Ha ha, very funny, no it’s just a friend, A straight friend, I might add,” I said, almost giggling.

“Not buying it, but ok. What do you want to do?” he said with a chuckle.

I thought for a moment. A rose seemed like a good idea. A single rose. Red would be way too pushy and probably scare her off, purple would be maybe too much also. Pink, yes pink sounded perfect, it wasn’t too bland or too forward. I cleared my throat. “A rose, a pink one. That’s subtle enough, right?”

“Good choice, you don’t want to scare off the poor girl before you get her to fall madly in love with you,” Hank said, with a smile in his voice.

In the rest of the conversation, I provided her name and her office address, with no card or note or anything else. A pink rose showed appreciation, not romance, but also left the door open in a way. I wanted it to be sweet but ambiguous enough to give me an excuse to claim it was just a nice gesture and not anything more. I spent the rest of the day worrying I had overdone it, but also felt anticipation at how she would respond.

Tamara

I loved going to work. It was the one place I felt safe enough to be myself, without any fear of the jealous, insecure reactions that Alan had all too often. I considered it my oasis, my world, the sphere where I could have a measure of control and self-determination. My coworkers were great for the most part, every now and then we would get a new sales rep who would either make fun of me as a woman in IT or relentlessly hit on me. I could never stand up to my husband, but at work, I could let my inner bitch out when necessary, which fortunately wasn’t often. Needless to say, when a man chose to overstep, I handled it swiftly and firmly.

I walked casually over to my desk and dropped my purse on the credenza in my cubicle and sipped my coffee, turning to look at my calendar to see what my appointments looked like for the day. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of color in front of the keyboard, making me look down to see what it was. I almost snorted my coffee once I realized it was a rose, a single pink rose, whose scent was incredible. At that moment, I found myself wrestling with two completely conflicting reactions, anger at someone clearly hitting on me, and delight at being important enough to make a gesture to. I felt my face redden, signaling that the first feeling had won out.

I grabbed the rose and thrust it into the air. “Hey, not interested here. Married!” I blurted out in a loud, irritated tone. I am somewhat introverted, so when all eyes turned on me, I regretted saying anything. The look of shock and surprise on everyone’s faces pretty much told me no one there was responsible for the flower in my hand.

Courtney, who sat in the cubicle next to me, whispered, “Floral shop delivered it a half-hour ago, pretty sure it wasn’t anyone here.”

I felt my cheeks turn bright pink, and clueless about what to say now that I had accused the entire office of hitting on me. “Um, guess… I spoke out of turn. Sorry. Must have been my husband,” I stammered, trying to cover my outburst. I knew better though. Alan had been romantic once, but it was something that never happened now. I would have felt more confident repeating my baseless accusations to the office again than accepting he would have done it.

Picking up the rose, I took in the sight of it, it was flawless, fragrant, and in bloom. Now that I was over my initial reaction, the feeling of delight came back, since it now seemed to be a genuine gesture by someone and since they didn’t even reveal who they were it felt non-threatening. I deeply breathed in the scent and just let myself enjoy the moment for a few seconds before turning my attention to work. When the word enjoy popped into my head, it made me recollect the events of Saturday evening at the hotel, and of meeting Elena.

Elena, the delightful diversion at a party I had been dreading for weeks, who I found out was gay, not that it mattered. She had been nothing but respectful, though admittedly a flirt, but certainly nothing even close to inappropriate. Had she sent the rose? What was it supposed to mean? Did it mean anything? Did it even matter? At that moment, I had far more questions than answers, and it made me feel disoriented, and admittedly a little strange. Was it butterflies I was feeling? Certainly not, I was straight, married, and had no inclinations towards women. As I thought more about it, perhaps I was just unaccustomed to attention these days, but had to admit it did make me feel good, important even.

While it was still questionable if the rose was from Elena or some secret admirer, instinct told me that it was indeed her, and I could picture her mischievous grin as if she was watching me make that discovery. Come to think of it, I had been the one handing her my business card, so it all made sense. Hadn’t I invited her to have coffee? Yes, it seemed to all make sense now, but I realized that I hadn’t gotten her contact information. I frowned, realizing the ball was in Elena’s court since she knew how to reach me but not the other way around.

As I was pondering what to do, an email alert popped up on my computer screen, drawing my attention. I clicked on the email, which was titled simply “Coffee tomorrow?” The sender was Elena Carver, telling me what her last name was, and the email itself had a map to a Starbucks about a mile from my office. I felt my tummy flutter a bit, which I attributed to the emotion of the previous few moments, but did find myself liking the idea of sitting down with her. I did say ‘friends’ to her, right? No harm then. Ok, it's a friend-coffee-date-not-a-date then!

Elena

I got to the Starbucks forty minutes early, which I admitted to myself was overkill and probably a bad sign that I already had a crush on Tamara. I had been down this road a time or two before and it never ended well, feelings were always one-sided and the other girl tended to either run away or withdraw emotionally. In either case, there were hurt feelings all the way around. Still, I couldn't help myself, trying to play the mental gymnastics that would convince me it was all harmless.

I picked this location for a reason. It tended to lean more heavily on drive-through orders, so the lobby was more sparsely attended. In addition, there was a cozy spot with a partial doorway that had room for just two comfy chairs, and while it wasn’t completely private, it had that effect. I positioned the chairs around the small round table so that they were far enough apart that it would provide adequate distance and avoid appearing too intimate.

I found myself looking at the time on my phone constantly, a rookie move for sure; I had to get my mind straight, no pun intended. It took me a while earlier in the morning to figure out the look I wanted to go for. I opted for a navy blue skirt and jacket, with golden embroidery on the lapels, a frilly white (and non-revealing) blouse, and heels. I thought I looked both feminine and professional, an image I happen to love.

I caught sight of Tamara as she approached the front entrance of the coffee shop, the wind tossing her hair about slightly as she walked. Her choice of outfit was a smart one, a red pencil skirt that hugged her hips, a white v-neck blouse that did show a bit of cleavage, and red heels. I liked my look; I loved hers more. She broke into a broad smile when she saw me and headed over to the little room where I was now standing. Her smile was infectious, I simply had to match her expression.

“Hey there!” I said, thrilled she had accepted my invitation.

“Hey yourself! Gawd I love your outfit!” Tamara said, almost giggling.

Without thinking, I reached out and embraced her, and then almost panicked that I had assumed that was all right with her. “Oh shit, I shouldn't have just assumed…”

“Oh hugs are fine, I am kinda touchy-feely myself,” she responded, settling into the hug comfortably. Her perfume filled my nostrils and the feeling of her body against mine was absolutely delicious, her curves pressing to mine, the warmth was both comfortable and sexy.

It felt like we were connected, as women, and friends, and yet something more than that. I didn’t want it to end, but also worried I was enjoying it too much and that she could tell. I reluctantly pulled back from her and settled into my seat. I was a little confused at the interaction, I definitely wanted it, but she seemed remarkably open, almost suggesting that she actually enjoyed the contact.

Tamara smiled as she settled into the other chair, speaking as she sat down. “Um… so… did you… send something to me this morning?” she asked. I could swear I saw her cheeks getting pink.

“Maybe,” I responded with a smirk, trying to gauge her reaction.

Tamara giggled, “Just so you know, I stood up and accused just about everyone in the office of being the culprits,” she muttered, “So embarrassing!”

I studied her body language and expression before responding further, the last thing I wanted was to come across as some sort of predatory lesbian seemingly intent on bedding her. As before, she was being guarded, but her posture was relaxed, open even, and there was no expression of fear or even concern on her face. No, it was something else, like it was more than just acceptable, it was welcome. Even coming from another woman, Tamara was enjoying the attention. Feigning concern, I leaned in, careful not to touch her. Light flirting at the party had been one thing, and attributable to the alcohol, which was far from the case now. “Listen, I was just trying to say I had a great time hanging out with you the other night. I hope I didn’t…”

“Oh, no, no, no, it’s fine, I haven’t gotten flowers in years,” she said, adding, “It was very sweet and considerate, and I so appreciate it.” As she spoke, she touched me on the arm, innocently, but it was contact, all the same.

I reached up and slipped my hand over hers, squeezing it lightly to reassure her, “I just wanted to…” I hesitated for a moment because the words that were coming to mind were, give you a kiss that will rock your world, or make out with you for an hour, or even eat your pussy and make you feel incredible. I really wouldn’t have said that out loud, but there was something about her that I found impossibly attractive. “...respect your boundaries. That’s what friends do.” I pulled my hand away and leaned back in my chair.

I cleared my throat and looked her in the eyes. “So...IT? That has to be a more male-dominated field than insurance even,” I said with a smile.

Tamara rolled her eyes and then laughed out loud, it was a full, genuine laugh and it made me smile. “Yeah, the good old boy’s club. It started out rough for sure, I got snubbed at work a lot and faced some reluctance by my first customers. I worked my ass off and won them all over. Of course, there are times I still get attitude… or hit on.” she said, rubbing her chin, apparently to take care of an itch.

I watched her eyebrow twitch as she uttered her last sentence, so I could tell there was more to the story. I just nodded, not pressing her for more information than she was willing to share, at least just yet. A moment later, it dawned on me that we were sitting at a coffee shop, and we were sitting empty-handed. “Hey,” I began, “I got you drinks last time, looks like you are in need again. What can I get you?”

“A vanilla latte would be awesome. Yeah, I know it sounds pretty girly.”

I chuckled as I stood up. “No need to justify it, hun, and girly is just fine. We can form our own girl’s club, how about that?” I said, starting towards the doorway.

“Sounds great!” I heard her say.

Within a few minutes, we were back in our little cozy corner, chatting away like old friends. It felt like we had been friends for years; we had a lot of common interests, like hiking, gardening, travel, and others. “I really like pottery classes,” I said at one point. “It gives me a creative outlet and satisfies my need to create things.”

“Oh are you kidding me?!” Tamara suddenly blurted out, my statement clearly triggering great enthusiasm in her. “I was an art minor back in college, I loved ceramics! I used to have a room full of my work. Gawd, I miss doing that so, so much.”

I just giggled out loud in response to her highly animated response to my admission. “Wow, well now I know how to wind you up,” I commented. “When was the last time you made something with pottery?”

I watched the excitement drain out of her as soon as I asked the question, her body language and facial expressions identical to the moment that weekend that her drunk husband interrupted our time together. She retreated behind her practiced mask, and replied, “Well, life got in the way, I suppose. Work, family, and…”

I already knew there was far more to her reaction than met the eye, plus I am a great poker player and know a bluff when I see one. There was no way in hell I was going to just let that answer stand and decided I had built up enough good will to push the envelope a little bit. “Bullshit,” I said, in a calm tone, to prevent sounding overly aggressive. I wanted to give her a push, not a bitch slap.

Tamara was unfazed by the remark, which made me think either she hadn’t heard it or was just ignoring it altogether. Then, it hit her, like it had to sink in for a moment before she realized what I had said. Her face went pink. “Um… excuse me?” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Come on, Tamara, I know we are not lifelong friends or anything, but do you really think I believe that? You went from relaxed to exuberant to almost depressed in the space of seconds. So, once again, I say bullshit.”

She composed herself for a moment, looked me in the eye confidently, and simply responded, “Well then, the truth is that I simply lost interest.”

Part of me admired just how good Tamara was about putting on a convincing and world-class front that should have earned her an academy award. It was polished, practiced, and very believable, but unluckily for her, I was world-class at reading people. It was one of the many skills that had made me successful as a professional businesswoman. Looking past her disguise, I could see a woman who was afraid, isolated, and in need of a friend, someone she could trust.

“Look, I think it was more than a good buzz that made you trust me enough to just be yourself at that party, or the coffee just now,” I said, taking a sip of my black coffee. “Behind that smokescreen is a pretty, awesome, and amazing woman that I would love to be friends with. The person you are pretending to be is anything but that.”

By the look on her face, I could tell that was the first time she had not gotten away with her protective play-acting. Her expression went from shock, to worry, to fascination, and back to worry. Again. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a very deep sigh, one that I thought would make her lungs collapse.

“Ok,” she said, no longer whispering, and opening her eyes to look at me. “The truth is that Alan hated them and said they were ugly and not worth keeping, so threw them all away one day several years ago when I was at work. I cried for a week. And I never made a thing after that.”

I watched her sit up straight, as if a thousand-pound boulder had just rolled off her shoulders, but in the next second, she burst into tears, lasting for possibly as long as a minute. I pulled her into a sisterly hug and just patted her back, hoping that it would come across as comforting and not anything else.

Once she regained her composure, she grabbed a napkin and wiped her eyes, including the mascara that had run a bit, leaving black streaks down her cheeks. “Feel better now, Tamara?” I asked, making sure I included her name in the question.

“Wow, yeah, I had no idea how much I needed that. Or how much I needed someone smart enough to see right through me. I can pretty much guarantee you, that has never happened before, not even with my parents,” she said, taking another deep breath. Damn, she was beautiful, even when vulnerable.

“Well, be careful, I charge a steep price for therapy like this,” I laughed, poking her in the side.

“Well I haven't felt this liberated in years, so I will gladly pay that price.” she quipped, now clearly relaxed with me. “Who should I make the check out to?”

I grinned. My next move was going to be epic. “Not that easy, hun. You have to go to a pottery session with me, no excuses,” I said with a smile.

Tamara’s mouth dropped open, as she was caught off guard by what I had said. After a second she smiled and answered, “Ok, you’re on.”

Oh, this was going to be fun!

Tamara

I have to admit that I had Elena in mind when I started getting ready for work that morning, mainly because I wanted to impress her. Maybe it was silly, but she was so confident and sure of herself, and had carved a place for her in a man’s world, that I wanted to be more like her. Plus, I didn’t want to appear as someone deserving pity, on any level.

I ended up choosing red as my primary color, selecting a form-hugging skirt that I thought made me look fabulous. While I had no illusions about being a model or fashion expert, I did like looking as attractive as I could. I rummaged through the hangers for a cute top and ended up settling on a V-neck blouse that tied around at the side.

As I was applying my makeup, I could see myself in the bathroom vanity mirror and noticed that the top revealed my breasts slightly. That would send the wrong message, and I didn’t want to tease her with something she could never have. I pulled out the bottom of the blouse and re-tied the string a bit and tucked it back in, but I felt an inclination to keep my appearance as is. Truthfully, I had caught glimpses of her eyes taking in the sight of my cleavage at the party, but had attributed it to my imagination. Knowing about her orientation now, I doubted I had been imagining it. No, she had been looking, and even appreciating my body a bit. I could admit that it made me feel sexy, nothing wrong with that, is there?

I reverted to the slightly revealing look, my fingers unintentionally brushing my left breast, and my memory flashing back to the moments at the party where Elena had been sneaking a look. I felt a strange thrill at the thought of being desirable to her, the images and feelings from that semi-erotic dream pushing into my mind, wondering what it might feel like. Shocked at where my mind had wandered, I shook my head a few times to clear my thoughts. If Elena had been a man, I reasoned, I would have attributed it to chemistry and attraction. But she was not, so my mind was playing tricks on me again. I was too pent up, and I promised myself that I would take care of that later when I was alone again.

Elena and I had agreed to meet at the Starbucks at ten, so I drove to the location right from the house. I knew it pretty well, I often swung by to grab a coffee before work, since it wasn’t far away from my office. As I pulled in, I realized that I had never been inside this one, but since they are all similar I didn’t think it would be any different. I looked in the rear-view mirror and smoothed over my eyebrows before getting out of the car and walking towards the door.

I caught a glimpse of Elene once I walked through the double doors at the entrance, seated in a tiny alcove set off to the side that looked private enough to have a real conversation. I smiled when I saw her.

“Hey there, girl!” she said, standing to her feet.

As she stood up, I was really struck by how incredible she looked. Dressed in a dark blue business suit, she was the epitome of class and beauty, fueling my image of her as Wonder Woman even more. “Hey yourself,” I replied, adding, “Wow I love that outfit,” I said, laughing. I leaned towards her, unsure of what the protocol was, what is a handshake? A hug?

Before I could even figure it out, Elena leaned in and gave me a hug, a light one but I was a little taken aback. I stiffened, not out of objection, but more out of surprise. She almost jumped back, like she was afraid of offending me. “Oh shit, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have taken that for granted…”

She had backed up a bit, but still close enough to feel her presence. “No worries, hugs are just fine, I am pretty touch-oriented myself,” I said in a low tone.

Elena’s mouth showed a smirk, as if I had said something infinitely entertaining. She leaned back in and I felt myself just let it happen, let her get closer to me than I usually ever let anyone, let her pull me into her. I could feel her lips at my ear, breath tickling the hairs on my neck, feeling connected to her like we were already lifelong friends. When I felt her pull back, I took it as my cue to sit down in the chair next to hers.

One of the big questions on my mind, as I smiled at her, was the flower on my desk at work. After getting over the initial reaction, it had delighted me and made my day. I wasn’t entirely sure what she intended it to mean, but her interactions with me came across as genuine and not sinister. “Ummm,” I began, “did you...send me something?” I said, trying not to sound like an idiot.

Elena was clearly amused, smiling and stifling a laugh. “Hmmm maybe?” she said with a melodic tone to her voice.

I could tell that was her playful way of admitting it, which just made me break into giggles. “Just so you know, I accused every guy in the office of hitting on me when I found that. I made an ass of myself.”

Elena’s expression changed, like she was instantly worried that she had either overstepped or had given me the mistaken impression that she was interested in me romantically. “Hey, I was just trying to say I had a great time the other night, that’s all,” she said, her voice trailing off a bit.

Truthfully, that relieved me a bit, I have to admit that I haven’t navigated these particular waters before, but it clarified that her intentions were genuine. I felt my conflicted and worried feelings melt away, and I felt the need to reassure her that everything was fine. I reached over and touched her arm casually. “Perfectly fine,” I said with a sigh. “Honestly, I can’t remember how long it’s been since anyone got me flowers.”

Elena reached up and grasped my hand, it felt warm, sweet, and reassuring. “I just wanted you to be sure I respected your boundaries. That’s what friends do,” she said sweetly.

As if it suddenly dawned on her that we were sitting with nothing in our hands, she stood up, and asked, “Hey did you want a coffee? What can I get you?”

“Well you are gonna think I am too girly, but a vanilla latte would be amazing to sip on right now,” I said with a chuckle.

“No worries, hun, girly is just fine,” Elena shot back, “In fact, let’s just have our own little girl’s club.”

“Oh yeah, sounds like a plan,” I replied as she sauntered off.

When she returned with our drinks, we started chattering away like we had indeed started our own little exclusive club, covering so many things that I honestly lost track of them all. The conversation took an unexpected turn for me when Elena admitted that she enjoyed making pottery. Something I almost never talked about is how much I love and adore making things with my hands, ceramics in particular, and I had given it up several years prior after being belittled about it by my husband. My enthusiasm got the better of me, and I almost shouted, “Are you fucking kiddng me?! I had a minor in art in college, I used to love making things, used to have a whole room full of them! Wow... I miss that so much!”

Elena laughed out loud at my outburst, displaying a grin that showed off all of her perfectly straight teeth. “Wow, I guess I figured out what your passion is! When’s the last time you made something?”

Shit. It was a simple question, but in that moment I realized that I set myself up for a question that I did not want to answer, because of what I would have to reveal. Alan always made fun of my pottery, calling it flea market trash, and forced me to box it up and throw it all away. It broke my heart and broke me and with the subsequent abuse that followed it didn’t get any better. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with anyone, certainly not with someone I barely knew. I had to walk this back somehow and just drop it.

“Well that was a childish thing I suppose, and with work and being married, I just didn’t have time for it anymore,” I said, in as calm a voice as I could. Inwardly I was panicked and wanted to either scream or cry my eyes out.

I saw a fire flash in Elena’s eyes. I was pretty good at reading people, and that look was one of anger, strong anger. What the hell would she be so angry about?

“I’m calling bullshit on that,” she said quietly.

My mind was already several steps ahead, anticipating her to change the subject and just let the matter die right there. I started to say something and then realized what she had said. What the hell? Who was she to say something like that to me? I wanted to slap her hard right then and there for butting into something that was none of her business. Would I do that? Nope, never, instead, I would just withdraw and hope to be done talking about it. “Really, I just lost interest.”

I had never met anyone able to read me as well as she had and see through all of my false fronts. “Come on, Tamara, I know we haven’t known each other but a few days, but do you expect me to buy that? You went from even keel, to over the moon, to almost depressed all in a few seconds. So yes, I still say bullshit,” she said sternly.

Silence fell for a couple of seconds, an awkward silence that I couldn’t bring myself to break. I felt backed into a corner and had nowhere to go, so I sat passively, saying nothing. Elena spoke up after what seemed like an eternity.

“I think it was more than a good buzz over drinks or coffee just now that made you trust me enough to see you - the real you. Behind that smokescreen is an amazing, gorgeous and incredible woman that I would love to be friends with,” Elena said with a slight smile. “This girl you are pretending to be? She is anything but that.”

Inwardly I panicked. I knew she was right, plus she had gotten past all my defenses like a pro and had me at a significant disadvantage. I was good at giving up, but this was a different kind of surrender, of trust. And as odd as it seemed, I really did trust her. I closed my eyes for a second and let out a sigh, part of a deep breathing exercise from yoga that I had learned to use to calm myself. Once my heart had slowed down enough, I spoke. “The truth is that Alan made fun of me for making them, he really hated it. And when I was at work one day, he smashed them all and made me pick up the fragments and throw them away. I never did anything again after that.”

I had never admitted that to another human being, and the feeling of relief and liberation that ran through me made me lose my well-practiced emotional control, and I started crying deeply. Elena just put her arm around my shoulder and comforted me as I cried it all out, which all lasted for a couple minutes.

“Feel better now, Tamara?” Elena said, a bright smile on her face again.

I did feel better. Worlds better. Like I hadn’t felt for what seemed like forever. Liberated. Finally free. I took in a deep breath, and then said, “Wow, yeah, a lot. I had no idea how much I needed that. Or how much I needed someone smart enough to call me on it. That has never happened before, not even growing up.”

Elena beamed. “Careful, girl, I charge a lot for that kind of therapy,” she said with a smile and a wink.

Feeling playful, I shot back, “And what name do I write on the check? And how much?”

She shook her head, making her hair swish back and forth. “Uh uh, no way you are getting off that easy, hun,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “You have to go to a pottery class with me, just us. No excuses,” Elena said, her toner sweet but firm.

Obviously, she meant business, and I had no intention of arguing with her. In fact, I didn’t want to, it was by far the most exciting thing I could have wanted, and I had chills just thinking about it. I giggled as I said, “Ok, you’re on!”

We parted ways a few minutes later, as we both needed to get to work, but I was struck by the whole encounter. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, someone that I felt that vulnerable with, who could read me, and who genuinely cared about my well-being. I found the experience dominating my thoughts the rest of the day, leaving me distracted. Not in a bad way, but a good one, one that made my own feelings hard to process.

When I got home at the end of the day, I was alone, as Alan had been called out of town to save a huge account. I was grateful for the solace, it always felt more peaceful when he was gone, but for the first time in a while I realized it was also lonely and isolating. I found comfort in the fact that I had made a friend, and that thought was on my mind when I fell asleep. Part of me wondered about what Elena had thought of the whole thing, and that was the last thing on my mind as I fell asleep.

The dream I had earlier had somehow started over again, Elena and I were standing at the fountain again, her whispering in my ear as she had before, kissing my neck, her breasts pushing into mine. She was seducing me, no I couldn’t let this happen, I can’t, but gawd it felt fucking amazing.

At some point, the scene melted into a more private setting, which I recognized as my room, and my bed. I was naked, lying face up, and kissing someone, a shadowy figure which I assumed would be my husband, but it was Elena. Her lips felt incredible, and her bare breasts pressed against mine in the most incredible way possible. I wanted her, it didn’t matter if she was a woman or I was straight, I fucking wanted her.

I moaned as I felt her take my nipple between her lips, in a way softer and sexier than I had ever felt before. “Oh gawd, yes, yes, yes, yes…” I moaned, writhing with the rhythm she was providing with her lips. I pushed her head to my breast even harder, making her suckle me more aggressively, but still lovingly.

“I need to taste you,” Elena said, looking me in the eyes as she kissed down my tummy, parting my legs gently, kissing inch by inch closer. I felt her tongue on my pussy, with a skill I never imagined possible, making me moan and cry out from how great it felt. If this was lesbian lovemaking, I wanted more of it.

As before, I woke up startled, in my bed but not naked as I had been in the dream. It was a dream, just a dream. But a very erotic dream, making me squirm as the urges whispered to me to give in. Unlike before, I couldn’t resist, I knew it was not something I should give in to but did not care at that moment.

I slipped off my short satin nightgown and lay back on the bed, caressing my breasts and shocked at how wet I was when I awoke. I closed my eyes and let the images from the dream wash over me, sliding my fingers between my legs. “Oh gawd, yes, please taste me,” I moaned, the vivid memory of her between my legs eating my pussy, intent on nothing but indulging the urges in that moment. Nothing but giving in to her, feeling her, feeling the pleasure.

It took less than a minute to climax, and it was intense, the biggest one I could remember in recent memory, all while imagining a lesbian friend turned lover eating my pussy and loving every second of it. I would probably regret it in the morning and find some way to rationalize it but had she appeared that second magically, nothing would have stopped me from letting her have her way with me. It was a fantasy, I had had wild ones in my younger years, though none had ever included women. Once I had finished riding out that incredible orgasm, I fell asleep instantly.