Drifting

"No maid?"

"Sure, but she's off today."

"It must be nice being rich."

"It has it's advantages."

"I bet it does."

Pat's hair was still damp from a shower. Rita caught a faint whiff of Old Spice. Pat seemed more shy than earlier, more tender. Rita wondered if this could be something. Pat looked so appealing, Rita yearned for her.

"I won't scream if you kiss me," Rita said.

* * *

Beth said: "Marlo, I can't go on like this."

"Go on like what?"

"You know what I mean. I'm here sometimes and I'm not here other times. I want us to have a life together."

"Baby, we do have a life together. We're together almost every day, aren't we?"

"I need emotional security in my life."

"Everyone does."

"Then why can't we live together? You can move in with me, or I can move in here, or we can find a larger apartment."

"You know I'm not doing that."

"Why not?"

"Aren't you happy when you're with me?"

"Yes!"

"And the sex is good?"

"Yes, the sex is good."

"Then why spoil it? We're doing fine now, and it's no time to spoil it."

"I want to live with you."

"Maybe you don't like the idea that I see other women."

"That too. Why should I like that?"

"You're too traditional. You know I'm not like that."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, I love you. You're the only reason I'm still here in New York."

"If you loved me, you wouldn't see anyone else."

"Don't try to change me, Beth. Don't try."

"Is this all I'll ever have of you?"

"There's nothing more to give, love. There really isn't."

* * *

Rita said: "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Beth said. "It's finished. I told her I won't see her any more. It's really finished."

"Poor baby. If you ask me, it was inevitable. I never thought she'd be any good for you."

"I feel so miserable."

"Come on home with me. We'll have a drink with Pat, and then we'll all go to dinner somewhere."

"You're so lucky to have Pat, Rita."

"Yes, I know."

Pat had been living with Rita two months, and Rita was beginning to think it was permanent.

They had dinner in a Chinese restaurant on Lexington Avenue, and after that they went back to Rita's house and Rita fixed Beth a double martini. "Just what you need, honey. Two or three of these and you'll be on top of the world again."

It was better than dope, but after the second martini, Beth felt more miserable than ever. She was drunk, but still miserable. And watching the affection between Rita and Pat did not help at all.

"I think I'd better go home," Beth said.

Rita wouldn't allow it. She said Beth was too tight. They had an extra bedroom, there was no need to go anywhere, it was better not to be alone right after you break up with someone.

Smirking, looking at Pat, then smirking at Beth again, Rita said: "Maybe Pat and I can cheer you up. Pat?"

"Whatever you want, lover."

"Oh no," Beth said, as high as a kite but still guessing what Rita intended. She knew Rita, knew that look in Rita's eyes.

All three had been occupying individual armchairs in Rita's large living room, but now Rita left her chair and she came to Beth and knelt on the rug to remove Beth's shoes.

"Poor little baby," Rita said. "Sweet little toes. We'll make you feel good."

Beth was too weak, mentally and physically too weak to resist anything. She remembered the good times she and Rita had had when they'd been lovers. That seemed ages ago. Even if it hadn't lasted too long, the connection had been there. She moved her legs apart when Rita wanted it. Rita stroked her calves and knees and thighs, and before long Rita was giggling as she struggled to get Beth's pantyhose removed. "Come on, help me," Rita said, and Beth obliged by lifting her hips to get herself stripped. She looked at Pat, but Pat lay sprawled in her chair with her eyes almost closed and no expression at all on her face. Pat didn't seem to care one way or the other what they were doing.

Rita caressed Beth's legs, hands massaging her feet, ankles, calves, knees, and thighs. Beth had memories of Rita doing this years ago. She parted her knees as Rita bent forward to kiss her thighs. She watched everything. That brunette head bent over her lap. The feel of Rita's wet lips on the insides of her thighs. Rita leaned back and pulled Beth forward, and Beth was suddenly afraid she was not clean. She hadn't showered since this morning. She remembered Rita was always finicky about cleanliness, but at this moment Rita didn't seem to care about it. Not at all. Beth whimpered as she felt Rita's tongue burrowing like a snake between her labia.

Her knees in the air, Beth looked at Pat and she saw Pat still looking apathetic, eyes drooping, body stretched out with her long legs on the floor. Cowboy boots. The boots reminded Beth of Marlo. Rita's nose was now rubbing Beth's clit, back and forth, back and forth, a rhythm that Rita knew only too well would make Beth come. "Come for me," Rita said, her voice muffled against Beth's cunt. She kept her face moving against Beth's wetness, making sucking noises with her mouth, really into it. Beth was so drunk she almost giggled at the noise, but she caught herself in time. Rita was working her so well, she was afraid to do anything that might make Rita stop. She was wide open now, her knees high in the air, heels just touching Rita's shoulders, her neck bent as she watched Rita's nose rubbing back and forth on her clit. She came again, Rita carrying her through it, sucking like mad when Beth gushed on her lips.

Abruptly, Rita pulled away and looked at Pat. "Come on, Pat. Make her forget her troubles." Pat unwound on her chair, coming to life, rising, long legs crossing the carpet as Beth lay sprawled with a third martini in one hand, dress pulled back to her belly, knees wide apart, showing everything. Through the haze of alcohol, Beth was still ambivalent about Pat. Did she want Pat to fuck her? Then Pat was there, on her knees in front of Beth, the angular Irish face, the eyes gazing with interest at Beth's already worked over cunt. Pat's head came down, and Beth groaned as she felt the first broad sweep of the strong tongue. Oh yes, this was something special.

The tongue was everywhere, like a wriggling fish between her labia, swiping over her clit. Beth rocked her raised knees. For a long moment, she imagined it was Marlo working her, then caught herself, stunned at the substitution. Naughty girl, you shouldn't do that. Not fair. Closing her eyes because Pat's tongue was now slapping her anus, wet slaps and then a dip inside, then pulling back to slap again. Pat's fingers were on Beth's cunt, her thumb sliding into the opening, her forefinger working the shaft of Beth's clit as her tongue curled in and out of Beth's tight little bottom...

In the dark night, Beth opened her eyes without any memory of the end of it, her head pounding, one of Rita's thighs like a ton of bricks on her belly, Pat somewhere else, maybe in another room. Beth crawled out from under Rita's thigh, staggered in the dark to the bathroom to vomit up the Chinese dinner into Rita's art deco bathroom sink. Beth's face in the mirror. Is that you, Beth? Can't go on, she thought. Got to end it because I can't go on. Got to end it. Got to get out. Got to go somewhere...

PART FIVE

When Alex walked down Castro Street, she liked to think she was looked at. Five years ago, when she'd first arrived in San Francisco, she'd wanted the opposite, anonymity, the comfort of being just another dyke on the street, a comfort she'd never known before, never known anywhere. Now, however, she wanted the eyes, wanted the attention, wanted the individuality.

She was tall and lean, part Shoshone Indian (the good part, she thought), and when people looked at her, when people watched her walking on Castro Street, she often reminded them of a pagan apparition. She wore her dark hair tied in a single long braid, and around her throat and wrists there was always heavy worked silver of some kind or another, Italian or Mexican, jewelry befitting a goddess of ancient and mysterious rites. But even goddesses needed to work, and this one earned her living as a social case worker for the City of San Francisco, currently Assistant Director of a special unit concerned with homeless women.

It was now dusk, the business rush hour finished, the evening crowds on Castro Street not yet arrived, and when Alex walked into the Tulip Bar, she was not surprised to find the place nearly empty. But all she wanted now was a cold beer, and so when she walked up to the bar and ordered a draft, she hardly even looked at the blonde sitting at the bar about ten feet away. Then the beer came, and after the first long drink to appease her thirst, Alex wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked at the blonde again. Interesting. New. Maybe thirty. Maybe straight. Good face. Good legs. Everything else more or less hidden. And maybe alone.

Alex hated rejection. She hardly ever attempted to pick up strange women, not a cold pick-up anyway, since she knew enough people to arrange an introduction if it was someone she'd never spoken to before. There was a time when she'd been able to gamble a pitch at any woman who looked available, an ability energized by an almost frantic need for sexual contact. One suffered the rejections in order to gain the acceptances. But no more. She was too drained now after a series of bad relationships, and these days she had learned how to cultivate masturbation to make it work for her. No more frantic one-night stands, the hell with that. She would rather use her fingers or a vibrator, anything except allow her clit to rule her life.

But the blonde did look interesting. Very femme if she was indeed gay. Cute, sexy, intelligent looking, and the legs were marvelous.

When their eyes met for the third time, Alex said: "I haven't seen you here before."

"First time," the blonde said. And then she added: "I'm new in San Francisco, actually."

"Oh?"

The blonde laughed. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, I guess. Can I buy you a drink? My name's Alex."

"Yes, you can buy me a drink. And my name's Beth."

* * *

They sat in a booth near the front entrance. That was Alex's favorite spot, because later when the room became crowded, one could avoid the constant traffic of women going to or returning from the two washrooms near the kitchen in the back.

Beth drank whiskey sours and Alex drank draft beer.

"What are you doing in San Francisco?" Alex said.

"A new job in an art gallery." Beth mentioned a place near Market Street. "I was in a gallery in New York and I now I'm here."

"Is the work interesting?"

"Very."

"That's good."

"And what do you do?"

"I'm a social worker."

"Now that's really interesting."

Alex laughed. "Most of the time it's boring."

Alex wanted to kiss her ears where they peeked out between the strands of wavy blonde hair. Not too blonde. Dark blonde and some brown. Hair that looked fresh and sweet. A perfect mouth colored by a light red lipstick.

Beth said: "So far I like San Francisco very much."

Alex sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't say this, but I'll say it anyway. I'm assuming you're gay."

Beth smiled. "Oh yes. And what about you?"

"I think you already know I am."

"Well, maybe..."

"Are you with anyone?"

"Not for months. I'm still recovering, if you know what I mean."

Alex drained her beer glass. "Oh, I know, all right. I know all about recovering. The trouble is there's always a piece of you that never gets returned. What about dinner? Would you like to have dinner with me?"

* * *

Alex took Beth to an Italian restaurant that had the best lasagna in town. The lights were dim, the table had a candle on it, and the evening became romantic. Alex was never sure about how to romance a new woman, because she'd learned you could never predict anything. Sometimes they loved it, sometimes they thought it was corny, sometimes they acted like robots and they seemed oblivious to everything. She wanted very much to go to bed with Beth because Beth turned her on, but she was also afraid of coming on too strong. She encouraged herself by thinking Beth would have turned down the dinner invitation if she had no interest in sex. But Alex knew there were all kinds of crazy, unpredictable, neurotic women in San Francisco, and you could take nothing for granted.

After dinner, Beth agreed to go along with Alex to a dyke bar where they could dance. Alex had chosen this place because they did more slow dancing than the others, and she wanted Beth in her arms. She was so hot now, she was worried she would start shaking as soon as she felt Beth's body against her own. But once they were on the dance floor, she felt more secure and she concentrated on turning Beth on. As they pressed against each other, she rubbed Beth's back with her hands, and whenever she had the opportunity she pushed her thigh between Beth's legs and made an obvious sexual movement as she kissed or licked Beth's ear. God, she loved how her hair smelled! Alex was so turned on now, she could feel her juices running each time she moved her legs. Finally, she couldn't take it any more, and she said: "Let's go somewhere. Can we go to my place?"

Beth pulled back a bit and looked at her. "Can we do that some other time? I've got a tremendous headache, and I think I'd like to go home."

Alex covered her disappointment by immediately turning to lead Beth off the dance floor. "Sure, whatever you say. Come on, I'll take you home."

They said nothing to each other in the taxi, but when they were standing on the landing outside Beth's apartment, Beth allowed herself to be kissed and Alex thought there was still a chance. She slid her tongue into Beth's mouth, and Beth accepted it. When her hands dropped down to hold Beth's buttocks, Beth accepted that too.

"Let me come inside," Alex said.

Beth squirmed in her arms. "Please... I told you..."

Alex pulled away. "All right. Sorry. Maybe I'll see you around."

And with that Alex turned and hurried down the steps, cursing, telling herself she was a fool for being taken in by a tease, doubting now that Beth was even a lesbian. Maybe she was just another straight bummer teasing a dyke for the amusement, something to do, whatever.

She had trouble finding a taxi, and then as she sat in the corner in the back of the cab she wanted to cry. Oh shit, don't cry, she thought. Don't cry, baby, you'll survive it. She sat in the dark with her hand in her crotch, her fingers squeezing her cunt through the tight denim of her jeans. It wasn't just the sex, it was that she'd wanted so much to be with someone tonight. Tonight, for some reason, she felt more lonely than in a long while, and what made it worse was that she hated the idea that she did not know how to live with herself. She couldn't believe that people who knew how to live with themselves ever felt lonely like this.

When she arrived home, she stripped off her clothes and she lay down on the bed in the dark and started masturbating. But it didn't work. She tried it on her back, and then she rolled over and tried humping her cunt against her fingers. No good. She did not want the vibrator. Oh hell. She pulled the sheet over her head and she fell asleep.

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and at ten o'clock in the morning the telephone rang. Alex was still bleary-eyed when she lifted the phone, and at first she did not recognize the voice.

"Who?"

"It's Beth. You remember me, don't you? We were together last night."

"Oh yes."

"If you're not busy now, I'd like to come over."

"How did you get my phone number?"

"I looked in the phone book."

Alex felt stupid. Stupefied. Pleased. "Do you have my address?"

"That's in the phone book too."

* * *

"I suppose you think I'm stupid," Beth said as she looked around the small living room, the bay window, the view of a steep hill that seemed to end abruptly. Magazines and books were strewn everywhere. "Did you think I was stupid last night?"

"No. I was just disappointed."

Beth smiled and came closer. "Well, I'm here now."

Knowing it still might be dangerous, Alex accepted the offer and took Beth in her arms. The first kiss was light, breezy, tentative, without commitment. Then Beth arched her pelvis forward, and the pressure produced a sudden explosion of desire in Alex. She tightened her embrace and kissed fiercely, mashing her lips against Beth's, her tongue insistent, aggressive, leaving no room for ambiguity. Beth moaned under the attack, and she appeared to go limp. But Alex held her, supported her, kissed her again, and this time Alex dropped her hands to Beth's buttocks and gripped them hard through Beth's dress.

"I want you," Alex said.

"Make love to me, please..."

"Oh yes."

There, in the sunlight streaming in through the bay window, Alex stripped Beth down to her bra and panties. She stopped then, and for a while she did nothing but kiss Beth everywhere, wet kisses, biting kisses, crouching to run her lips over Beth's knees and thighs, rising again to kiss her belly above the elastic waistband of her panties, rising further to kiss the hollow between Beth's breasts where the brassiere left it uncovered. When she finally removed the brassiere, Beth's nipples were like hard little nuggets under her tongue. She took each nipple in her mouth in turn, bit them gently, sucked them, made them swell even further, and as she did this she trailed her hand down between Beth's thighs, her fingers tickling the panty- covered mound, down and under to feel the seeping wetness, the proof of Beth's excitement.

She wanted to sniff at her. She crouched in front of Beth and boldly sniffed at the joining of her thighs. Beth groaned, arched her back and opened her thighs. "Yes!"

Alex nuzzled in and bit the swollen labia through the wet cotton. Her hands were on Beth's buttocks again, her fingers tracing the curves of her firm ass, pressing the globes, squeezing them.

Abruptly, she pulled at the waistband of Beth's panties and peeled them down. Beth swayed, held onto Alex's shoulder as she stepped out of the panties. Alex tossed them away and immediately buried her face in the blonde garden. She sniffed it, inhaled deeply, pushed her nose against the soft wet lips. Honey-dripper, Alex thought. She held back the urge to lick and suck. She would do that later. First something quick. She rose to take Beth's mouth with her own. Beth moaned under the kiss, and then moaned again as Alex's hand closed over her cunt.

Her mouth still plastered against Beth's, Alex started working her, two fingers inside the wetness, her thumb on Beth's clit, her wrist shaking as she caught the signals that she was doing Beth perfectly. Sucking hard at Alex's tongue, Beth humped her pelvis against the hand that possessed her. When she came, her body shook from head to toe, jerking, twisting, a spasmodic climax so intense it sent an electric jolt into Alex's belly.

* * *

They lay naked on Alex's bed. Beth was on her back, her knees up, her feet on Alex's shoulders. Alex's fingers moved inside Beth's vagina as she leaned over to taste her. Beth shivered. Bending lower, Alex parted the hair with her free hand. Only one lamp was on, but it was enough to show everything, the pink flesh, the running juice, Beth's vagina gripping Alex's sliding fingers. Beth put her hands on Alex's head, and Alex lowered her mouth to the pink lips. She blew her warm breath against the folds and Beth moaned in response. She ran her tongue over the underside of Beth's clit and Beth gasped. Again. Her tongue teasing, sliding from side to side under the stiff promontory. She eased her fingers out of the hole and licked them, tasted Beth, smelled her. She rubbed her nose into the wet, down between the lips and then up again to smear the wetness over the stiff clit. Beth groaned and flung her knees wider.