Come Out, Come Out...

So much like at the Christmas party the previous month, Em scampered off—this time to prowl down a cute guy—leaving Lauren to take the still downcast Bridgette out onto the floor. As terrible as Bridgette felt alienating herself from her Mom, unjust though her principles may have been, she had to admit that touching Lauren's hand went a good way towards making her smile again. But shifting back into dance pose and gazing into those big beautiful pixie eyes brought tears a long way back to Bridgette's.

"SWEETHEART, IT'LL BE OKAY," Lauren hollered into Bridgette's ear.

"IT DOESN'T FEEL OKAY," Bridgette shouted back. "MY MOTHER HATES ME, LAUREN. AND I DON'T THINK SHE NEEDS TO MEET YOU TO KNOW SHE'S NOT TOO CRAZY ABOUT YOU, EITHER."

"BRIDGETTE, YOU'RE NEW AT THIS," Lauren smiled gently. "I'VE KNOWN I'M GAY MY WHOLE LIFE. I ALWAYS LIKED PLAYING WITH GIRLS, BUT I NEVER TOUCHED A DOLL ONCE. I WANTED TO RACE HOT WHEELS INSTEAD. I'M NOT SAYING ALL LESBIANS ARE LIKE THAT, BUT YOU GET THE IDEA. HONEY, I'VE SEEN THE WHOLE SPECTRUM. I'VE SEEN EVERY REACTION IN THE BOOK. IT'S 2013. LOTS OF PEOPLE'RE GONNA ACCEPT YOU, AND SOME JUST AREN'T. IT'S THE LEAST FAIR THING IN THE WORLD, BUT, BRIDGETTE...THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS."

Bridgette furrowed her brow, sighed and tried not to become angry.

"BUT THIS ISN'T 'PEOPLE'; IT'S MY MOTHER!" she yelled. "THE PERSON WHO GAVE BIRTH TO ME! WHO MOLDED ME INTO A YOUNG WOMAN AND TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE RIGHT AND WRONG! THIS IS MORE THAN JUST HEARTBREAK, LAUREN; I'M SCARED! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO HERE! I MEAN, THINK ABOUT WHAT IT WAS LIKE FOR ME GROWING UP WITH HER, AND THEN NOW THE WAY I FOUND OUT I FEEL ABOUT YOU! MY GOD, YOU MAKE ME HAPPIER THAN I'VE EVER BEEN IN MY LIFE! I—"

The current song blasting over the speakers suddenly ended.

"THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

A dozen nearby club-goers just as abruptly whipped around to hear Bridgette's declaration loud and clear, piercing through the sudden silence. In the midst of circulating, Emily Conwell too directed her gaze to the eye of the crowd. She'd know the voice of her B.F.F. anywhere. And she knew what she had just heard Bridgette say. Omigod! she thought with awe.

The next voice she heard was Lauren's.

"...Wh—a'right, what're you people staring at?! Never seen two girls in love before?? Go on, leave her alone! Play the next song!"

Well, that's terrific, thought Bridgette. Now on top of everything else, she had embarrassment to add to her list of emotions. The following song indeed started, but Bridgette paused dancing. She waited for the lights to go back down, seized the initiative, palmed Lauren's cheeks, and stole the first miraculous, romantic kiss.

Lauren gasped through the sudden new seduction, feeling a coat of invisible hot fudge molassing down over her each and every inch. The next she felt was the present moment become the happiest of her life. She forewent the cheeks and threw her arms irremovably tight around Bridgette, and kissed back, good and hard. Neither could discern how many minutes, songs or fellow clubbers passed by as they made out. For all they were aware, the lights could've come back up and with them, a hundred cat calls hurled their way. Lauren didn't care; she was too overjoyed. Bridgette didn't care; she needed this. She needed Lauren. And she needed Lauren to need her too.

"Mmmmmmmmm—" SMACK. Gasp. "OH MY GOSH, BRIDGETTE!...THAT...THAT WAS THE BEST KISS I'VE EVER HAD!"

"ME TOO, LAUREN, ME TOO..." I love you, by the way.

They collected their bearings back, reminding themselves where they were and of all the people and music swirling around their dizzy heads. But for some reason or other, Bridgette's legs began to feel weak. She wanted a little break.

"LAUREN, I REALLY WANNA KEEP DANCING WITH YOU, BUT COULD WE SIT DOWN FOR A MINUTE AND HAVE A DRINK?"

Lauren obliged, leading her by the hand, out of the crowd and back to the bar. Em spied them and made a beeline.

"Omigod! Oh, my, God, I can't believe it!" she exclaimed with elation. "I can't believe you guys are actually in love!"

"Okay, easy, Emily, easy," Lauren chuckled, patting the seat beside them. "We might be, but, just...y'know, one step at a time."

The bar was quieter, and easier to just hear each other's sentences. They ordered a round...then another. Now that Bridgette sat to throw some back, she could hardly believe she'd waited so long. Alcohol merely numbed the sting, but she desperately needed relief. The small break turned into a drinking mini-marathon. Another libation or six later, things finally began to haze and feel better.

"Does she usually drink like this?" Lauren called over to Emily.

"Oh, hell, no," Em waved off. "Not at all. She just needs a little booze anesthesia."

While the girls would certainly get more chances to dance, there'd be no more fantastic light-tripping this evening. Just regular stumble-tripping. After Bridgette asked someone to take her to the girls' room, and Em volunteered, "I got this," and Lauren pointed them to it, she sat by herself for the moment and ordered one more. She held her liquor pretty well, and even had she not been drinking, she knew clear as a bell what Bridgette told her out there on the floor. It was impossible not to. Her heart swelled and pounded with happiness, repeating those seven magical, heavenly words to herself over and over and over. And she knew it was a full promise. They hadn't touched a drop yet. Bridgette was stone sober at the point of stating her devotion. And Lauren believed she felt the same way. Over the past several weeks, whatever she did, said, thought, wherever she went, she found her thoughts kept returning to Bridgette.

It was a true shame about her Mom, and Lauren felt a little bad being so happy when Bridgette was so...not. But vis-à-vis her mother...well, they'd figure something out. They had to. Lauren couldn't bear to be any reason Bridgette's mother never spoke to her again, or vice versa. And while she wouldn't force herself on the situation, she also wouldn't mind just trying to talk or reason with Bridgette's Mom herself. Obviously, it wouldn't be easy, but she had trouble imagining any parent this difficult. Then again, like she'd told Bridgette, she'd seen the full spectrum, from the atheists to the hopelessly devout and beyond. This Mom would be a tough cookie.

But all of this was in the indeterminable future. She couldn't do anything right now past waiting for Em and Bridge to emerge from the ladies' room. Then she'd let the former take the latter home. Much as she'd like to take Bridgette to her own home, the girl's faculties were compromised. And she was already mentally unsteady, and in need of some guidance. What she didn't need right now was to be taken advantage of. Lauren would be hard-pressed to forgive herself if she took home the tipsy Bridgette and had her way with her. It was simply not an option. She needed patience for the situation to sort itself out, and for desired final resolution.

However they reached it.

*****

To Tell The This Or Double That

Friday, March 8th, 2013, 6:32 p.m.

The next several weeks passed similarly. Bridgette went on rooming with Em, too apprehensive to call her mother, yet very curious. She couldn't help but wonder if Charlotte's mind pried itself at all open to Bridgette's lesbianism, but she didn't count on it. Her Dad Nick may've been more capable of compassion, if he didn't allow himself to be cowed and overruled by Charlotte in matters of family and household. It would appear Bridgette got her passivity from him. It really was unfortunate, Bridgette thought. Charlotte made the rules, rigidly adhered to them and insisted those under her roof do the same. It went without saying that in her world, romance, relationships, sex and marriage strictly involved one man and one woman, and that was all she wrote. Still, Bridgette hoped, one day...

At least Bridgette had recovered enough to go on living her life. She no longer camped on Emily's sofa twenty-four hours a day. She helped her with household duties when Em was both at work and relaxing at home. The rest of the time, she went about looking for a job. Part-time, full-time, shift hours weren't so important. Bridgette felt she could consider herself now snipped from her family's financial cushion, and needed to round up a few dollars on her own. She wanted to further her education, and Em might've been able to support the both of them as was, but she couldn't put food on the table and Bridgette through medical school.

Finding employment wasn't terribly easy for Bridgette, who fell only a lightyear or two short in experience. Excepting a few jobs in high school and college—which didn't pay but instead shaved a chunk off her tuition—she'd practically never worked in her life. This was discouraging, but, she thought, someone had to take a chance on her eventually. Everybody had to get started somewhere. And now with a four-year college degree, she felt the odds were more in her favor.

Some days she looked for work, either out and about or online, and other days she just hung around and took it easy. Or studied. Or went to the mall or library. Or vegged. Or thought longingly about Lauren, shadow dancing with her or writing her love letters. Lauren's Target salary afforded her a studio apartment and nourishment to go on inside of it, but not a great deal more. She too wished to broaden her future horizons and build a fruitful career. Bridgette couldn't thank Emily enough for introducing them, and decided that like it or not, her homophobic mother would just have to live with it—if, that was, she actually still wanted Bridgette in her life.

They got together a few more times each week, excluding Fridays when, as always now, all five met up. February brought even more happiness than January, and they hoped for more of the same in March. March's second Friday returned them to Emily's—and Bridgette's—digs once more. And today Emily had a little something special in mind. She sat them together on the floor in a pentagon.

"Okay, so check it out, gents and ladies!" she announced like a game show host, drumrolling on her thighs. "It's time to plaaaaaayyy...

"...Strip-Truth Or Dare!"

A curious silence dropped over her friends. They looked about to one another a moment.

"R—...really, Em?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, what...is that, exactly?" Ian wanted to know.

"Well, what the hell's it sound like, dudes?" Em laughed. "It's like a normal game of Truth Or Dare, except if you refuse to either tell the truth or do the dare, you have to give up a piece of clothing!"

Both guys and both girls around her turned a bit red.

"So, if you choose truth, but then refuse, you can still take the dare. But if you refuse the dare too, then you have to start stripping. But! If you choose dare, and decide you don't wanna do it, then that's it; you still automatically have to take something off.

"And here's the deal: we go alphabetically by name," Emily continued, "To be sure you can't just pick the same person over and over." Even though that might be kinda fun, she thought. "So on your next turn, you have to go to the next person alphabetically.

"Which meeeeeans..." she grinned, turning to her left. "Bridge?...You're up first...and I'm your target. Take your best shot."

"Hmmm..." Bridgette mused, a bit nervously. "Okay, uh...truth or dare, Em?"

"Truth."

"...Am I wearing out my welcome in your house?"

Emily chuckle-scoffed. "Bridge, of course not! I love having you here; you're my best friend! I told you I'd take care of you as long as you needed, and I meant it! Now c'mon. Go again; that one doesn't count. And ask me something juicy this time."

Bridgette sighed in mock exasperation. "Okay, I'll try to get in the spirit of it. Um..." She thought. "...A'right, Emmy...

"What...gives you...a nice big lady-boner?"

Bridgette immediately blushed and giggled again as soon as she got the question out. Their three other companions reacted similarly.

"BRIDGette!—...Oh my gosh!" chortled Lauren.

"No, no, that's—yes! That's good! There you go; that's more like it!" Emily assessed. "See? That's the whole fun of this game!

"Okay," smirked Em, turning a little pink herself. "Well, I don't usually get lucky enough to see it up close and personal..." Giggle. "But when I see a picture or whatever of a dude, with his shirt off, and he's...chiseled...enough to have that little 'v'-line, from his ribs down to his midsection...whew..." Em exulted and exhaled, resisting the urge to start groping at herself right then and there. "Yeah. There it is. Instant, major, arousal. Doesn't even make a huge difference how the rest of him looks."

Emily swiped at her forehead. "Wow. A'right! I'm up. Ian? Your turn..."

This was going to be fun. She honestly hadn't planned it this way, just serendipity that Ian The Incredible Hunk's name came next.

"...Truth or dare?"

"Eh, I'll have to go with truth."

Rats. Oh well. Em was hoping he'd choose the dare, but maybe she could hit him with an awkward enough query to change his mind.

"'Kay; truth it is...where's your favorite spot to do it with a girl—both geographical, and on her body?"

Sammy whistled. "Dang, Em!" he said as the girls again sniggered. "You don't mess around, do ya?"

"I never mess around where intimacy is concerned," Em declared. "Now c'mon, Ian; out with it."

Ian indeed made the sort of awkward face she was hoping for. "Do I...have to answer?" he tittered.

"Not at all!" Emily eagerly leered. "You can take the dare, or you can take off an article of clothing." ...And either way, I "win."

"Ummm...what's the dare?"

Time to indulge herself. Keeping the saucy grin on her face, Em reached around to her back, beneath her top, and went to work.

"Dare: reach under my shirt..." She undid the clasps as her friends' faces again went into startled amusement. When she was done, upping the ante even further, she whipped off her bra, produced it before them, and tossed it behind her.

"...And fondle my boobs. For ten seconds."

The room teemed with shocked laughter. Em arched her brows, defying him more bravely. It would seem that even though Emily'd honestly answered Bridgette's question, she was eager to get the "strip" part of the game underway. The best was that no one—except possibly Ian—took this as a revelation of Emily's crush on him. For all they surmised, she could have chosen anyone—one of the guys or one of the girls—to grope her breasts. Nobody suspected Em of being so devious as to just want some hot foreplay. But she was.

"Really..." Ian smirked, arching and flipping his own eyebrows. "Well, I...think I can handle that..."

Just as in the scenario she'd described to them a moment before, Emily felt a surge of arousal jolt through her. Still careful not to let on how excited she was, she kept her cool and sat still as Ian approached. He was to reach under and fondle her boobs, but that was all. There'd be no flashing her friends—although clearly none of the four of them would loathe her for it. Her belly tingled as he finally slipped his hands inside her shirt, slid them the couple inches upwards...and one of Emily Conwell's dreams came to life.

"OOOO-hoo-hoo!" she squealed, visibly elated, as the three others counted out loud to ten. Secretly hoping they never got there, Emily tried to make these the longest ten seconds of her life. Alas, they weren't nearly long enough.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho..." she chuckled, tingling again as Ian's fingers left her skin and emerged back out. "Oh, Ian, that felt good!"

He gave her a funny stare. "Were you expecting it to feel bad?"

"Well, no, but, y'know, you're my buddy. I wasn't sure if it would feel funny, or weird, or what. But, that...that was nice."

Her juices were in motion. A silly smile was pasted on her face. If they didn't know she had a crush on him before, they were certainly given a hint now. Ian had performed his dare, and therefore remained fully dressed, and it was time to continue the game. The only problem was, now that Em had had a taste of Ian Summers' touch, in one of her most delicate regions, she really wanted more.

"All right, Ian, it's your turn now, and you have to ask Lauren truth or dare."

"Okay then," agreed Ian, turning to their newest group addition. "Lauren...what she said."

"Dare," Lauren grinned.

"'Kay, let's see...star-sixty-seven somebody, any random number...and prank them with the 'refrigerator running' thing."

"Oooh," chorused the others, including Lauren, getting up to fetch her cell.

"And put it on speaker so we know it's legit!" Emily added as Lauren reclaimed her pentagonal corner. She obeyed, letting her fingers float over the buttons until all digits were dialed, with an area code that would lead them who knew where.

"Here we go!" Lauren announced as she pressed in the Send button just enough to activate it. They heard it ring. And again. And—

Click. "Yehlo?" said a Southern-sounding voice.

Lauren almost promptly cracked up, but kept her cool. "Hi there! Is your fridge running?"

"...E'scuse me?"

"I said, is your refrigerator running??" Lauren repeated, feeling the laugh breaking through.

The less than amused recipient of the call caught on. "Oh...a'right. I get it...har har. Very funny."

"Yep! So you know what you better go do!" Lauren shouted, quickly hanging up before the inevitable laughter ensued.

"I always wanted to see a girl do that!" Ian crowed, smacking his knee. "You are the best, Lauren!"

"Oh, tell me something I don't know," Lauren scoffed. "So, that makes it my turn?"

Emily confirmed with a nod. "And Sammy's your target."

"All right, well, uh...truth, why not," Sam decided. "Let's have it."

Lauren took a moment to think, and came up with her griller. "All right, so, Sam...d'yever kiss another dude?"

Natch, followed the next series of "Ooooh"s and giggles. Luckily for Sammy, he was pretty good at thinking on his feet.

"'Kissed'?" he asked. "No."

The girls let out a few hoots and cheers. Ian shot Sam a slightly strange look.

"Hmm, y'know, Sammy, I'm not sure I believe you!" Emily said.

"Yeah, that seemed a little suspicious to me too," uttered Bridgette. "Ian? You wanna disprove that theory for us?"

More laughter. "Okay, okay..." Sam waved his hand. "I answered the question; I think we can move on now."

"Allll right," Em agreed as the gals stopped laughing. "All right, Sammy, we'll let you off the hook this time. You better watch out when we come back around to you, though. But for now, you get a little chance for revenge. You're up, and Bridgette's on your business end. Now's your chance to torment her. Let her have it."

Sam rubbed his palms together. "Okay then, Bridges, here we go," he sneered, affecting a scary unplaceable accent. "Truth...or dare?"

Feeling brazen, Bridgette stared him right back down. "Dare, sucker."

"All right, Madison County, you asked for it," Sam taunted her. "Go outside on the front porch, and take one of us—or better yet, all of us with ya. Then face the front door, drop your pants—"

He paused for effect, letting the rest of the group respond accordingly.

"—Moon the neighborhood...and twerk that nice round ass of yours for us, for fifteen seconds, sucker!"