Good Karma

Whew! "H-hi!" I beamed, hoping my first impression didn't startle her. "...Crystal?"

Her...unexpectedly... extraordinarily... beautiful eyes lit up.

"Why, yes!" She tilted her face, at a whimsical angle, with a subtle smile. "...Miss Gwen, I presume?"

I nodded far too eagerly, like an anthropomorphized puppy in a cartoon.

"Yup! I am! ...I-I mean... no Miss necessary, please. But yes, that's me. Gwenny Eva Margulies."

I extended my paw, curtsy-style. Crystal accepted, drawing it near to kiss my knuckles, inflating a balloon of excitement in me. I felt so much more relaxed and comfy with her already. It was like a magic power she had over me.

"Crystal Ophelia Weatherly. So yes, both before or after we eat, please don't refer to me as a COW."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I won't, if you return the favor and resist calling me a GEM."

She giggled back. "Ordinarily, I'd be inclined to say, 'Oh, but GEM's so cute!' But as someone with acronym initials, I can relate to folks wanting to be 'cute' about that. So if Crystal it is, then Gwen it is."

She kept the smile glued to my face.

"It is nice to meet someone else in that particular boat. ...Small boat though it may be."

This time she tilted her face up, treating me to another angle of it.

"You seem delightful. Shall we?"

So we entered, asked for a booth for two, and were guided.

"'Kay, here're your menus, ladies," the waitress dealt, subsequently whipping out her pad and pen. "My name's Alexis, I'll be doing my best to take care of you today. So, I'm sure you know the drill: beverage first?"

"Oh, I'm sure your best'll be just spectacular," I assured her. "You go ahead, Crystal; beauty before...other beauty."

I'm aware that from how I semi-smoothly interacted with Crystal, it may be less than apparent I have social anxiety. Or that I'm so shy. But the truth is, I give Crystal all the credit. She made it so easy. Also, if I may say, I'm actually pretty good one-on-one. And in a structured, orderly scenario. Otherwise, it may appear I'm not extremely sociable... or fun. I've considered drinking to loosen myself up, but the truth is... I just can't. I've tried alcohol exactly twice, hated it both times, and spat it out like an infant. Besides, I know my system. A bit of swallowed soft Listerine makes me queasy. And, I'm petrified to find out what sort of drunk I'd be. Not to mention whether my faculties dulled enough to get in the driver's seat. There's already now one big scratch on my car, I don't need any more.

Crystal ordered a ginger ale, I a Sprite, and Alexis was on her way. We popped open our menus.

"So now," smirked Crystal. "Tell me every thing about Gwen Margulies this little outing'll permit. I wanna know all about you."

I giggled. "Oh, how sweet! ...Um... starting where?"

"Howzy-'bout...what do you do for a living?"

"Uh, well...my job isn't much to write home about. But luckily, I don't have to, 'cause they actually let me telecommute. So I save on gas, but I still don't make that much. I do data entry and check processing for a company that makes medical equipment. And, well, I don't let anyone judge me on this, so I'll just come out with it: I can't afford to live on my own, so I live with my Dad."

Crystal threw a hand. "Oh, who cares? All kindsa people live with their folks and kids. So you're a grown woman at home, big whoop. I may live on my own, but a lotta times I wish someone was around. I'd enjoy the company now and then."

My lips said no more words for the moment, but opened to a moderate-sized grin. I tried to balance it between innocent and...not.

"...Tryin'-a tell me somethin' with that smile?"

My grin shrank to a coy smirk. I shrugged, unassumingly dropping my eyes to the menu, letting that be that for now.

"So what do you do?"

"Oh." Crystal laid her arms on the table and folded her paws.

"I have an unusual job. It's kinda cool, though. I w—oh! Thank you!" she said, as Alexis brought us bread.

"Anyways, I'm a consultant for a business and advertising company, whose work people see every day," the smiling Crystal told me. "We make those big neon signs a lotta stores have."

"Oh, cool! Any I might've seen?"

"Wellllll...I dunno. Y'ever been to Perx, that coffee shop?"

"Oh—oh my gosh! I've... well, to be honest, I'm not big on coffee—it's a little bitter for me; my taste buds crave sweet—but who could miss those places? They're everywhere! So that's you?"

A modest giggle. "Well, my company. Honest, though, just between you and me..."

She paused, as if trying to dig up her next words. Honest, though, just between you and me, Sweet Reader, I really liked that she was about to say something to keep between us. (Even if it was just a figure of speech, which it very well could've been.) But I drank in and soaked up the indication that she felt she could share secrets with me. It felt nice. Of course, we already shared one "secret" to which—as far as I knew—only our insurance companies were privy. And as I tended to feel guilty over things by nature 'cause I have such a dang big heart, it'd take a while to forgive myself that one. In the meantime, I propped my elbows, chin on my hands.

"...It really is just a job," Crystal was going on. "I'm still in school, which is damn taxing on me. But I think it'll all be worth it in the end. I'm studying psychology. What I really wanna do's get my degree and go into that field."

"Oh, nice," I nodded, orally tearing off the end of a breadstick. "So, therapist? Psychiatrist? Other?..."

Crystal claimed her own breadstick and miniature plate. "Mmm, that part I haven't officially decided on yet. I just know I've always had a huge fascination with the human mind: development, function, inner workings, all that."

"That's cool. I... never exactly totally made up my mind what I 'wanted' to do, as a career or whatever. Honest to goodness, I... have trouble believing in myself. I mean, I had dreams when I was little, then I grew up and reality hit. I figured big things for me had little chance of happening, and I...kinda gave up on ambition long ago."

A look of sympathy clouded Crystal's face. Mouth half-full of bread, she rejoined.

"Ohhh...thah shah!" Gulp. "...I-I-I don't mean that's sad as in, oh, you're a loser or something. I just mean that's sad, like... well, it is. It makes me feel for you, and wonder what made you feel that way."

I let my eyes drop to the table, mindlessly poring the menu. I couldn't pay attention to one dish on this thing. All I could think was how much I liked Crystal Weatherly (whether-ly as just a friend or more, I was less certain) and hoped she liked me too. Inevitably, back came Alexis. Crystal'd decided on salmon on a bed of zucchini with a cup of cream of mushroom soup. So not unlike our life vocations, she knew what she wanted but I did not. Multiple items on each page were pictured, and they all looked amazing. And gosh-darned friggin' dammit, I was hungry. I shut my eyes for a tight blink, opened them, and chose the first thing they landed on.

"And I'll have a corned beef sandwich on rye, please, Alexis."

Off she went with our orders, and I resuming sparkling conversation with the sparkling Crystal. I murmured to her how I thought it was cute the waitress' name was so close to Amazon's Alexa, and that she was in the service industry. "Alexa, bring me a sandwich." We giggled. Before I knew it, I was spilling my heart out to the attentive Crystal Ophelia Weatherly. I shared with her everything I've thus far shared with you, Darling Reader, and more. I told her about my marriage to Laurie, how to this day I dearly missed our apartment and our cat Heidi, but didn't miss Laurie at all. How when I was a kid and my folks ordered pizza, I'd hug and kiss them to encourage them to order it more often. How Dad and I always shot pool together and I thought time and again about joining a league but didn't, out of awareness of having many off days. I just went on and on until our food arrived. It was like I couldn't stop, like someone flipped a switch and it just all gushed out. The most wonderful part was how easy Crystal made it all. She was really interested! Her face beamed with each anecdote. I loved baring my soul to her.

The grub came, prompting us to chow down. But this hardly put a crimp in our chat; Crystal implored me to go on telling her about myself. It was like honey to my inner cub. I was unused to this sort of attention, I couldn't get enough. It was not that I'd anything against getting to know Crystal. On the contrary; I wanted to learn all the things about her she willed to share. But in the meantime, as she drank in all I shared with her, I lapped up the attention like a thirsty pup. It's not really that I'm self-absorbed, self-centered, egoistic, it's just that... okay, I am. I'm all of those things; I might as well own it. My name is Gwenny Margulies, and I am an egotist. I'm not proud of it, but I can't be too ashamed of it either. I'm hard-pressed to feel shame for things over which I've little control.

Don't get me wrong: it certainly wasn't as if Crystal said nothing for the rest of the meal. In fact, I was impressed how well she was able to rejoin. She seemed able to contribute something to just about every comment I made. And managed to regale me with a few of her own anecdotes, in and around the chapters of my life story.

"So if I may ask," Crystal broached, waving her fork, "When you say you have low self-esteem, where do you think it comes from?"

"Mm. Wulp—" I gulped. "I know it's shallow, but... I'm just sad that I don't find myself very attractive. Believe me, I'd love to hop out of bed every morning with a big beautiful smile and charm the world's socks off. And then tickle its feet. But, well... for one thing, I don't think my smile's that beautiful. It's... semi-awkward at best. I think my heart and personality're attractive... oh, and my hair. My hair's my best feature, easy. Otherwise, I'm kinda what others would refer to as a dog."

"Don't say that!"

"I could not say it, but I'd be lying," I lamented to her. "See, when I was in school, kids did call me a dog."

Crystal nodded in both revelation and sympathy as I went on.

"When people've talked to me online and asked what I look like, I tell them, picture your dream girl. Okay?... I'm the exact opposite. I mean, I guess I can't be a total mutt, 'cause a few guys've asked me out in my day. And y'know, when you're gay, dudes have to be dealt with in a kinda special way. So som'n to the effect, I say, 'Sorry, I'm a lesbian. Legitimately; I'm not just trying to brush you off, I really am.' Which takes a little effort, so I guess I should be glad they're not asking me out all the time. But it's frustrating, just 'cause it's so hard to meet gay chicks. And one I like that might really like me back, well, slims down my chances even further. 'Course, it's also frustrating that while some guys seem interested, other guys've looked at me and said out loud, 'Woof.'"

Crystal winced. "Ouch."

"Yep... so, I don't wanna blame them forever, or fall back on trauma—justified though it might be—but nowadays I'm afraid to show too much emotion...just 'cause I'm self-conscious how it makes me look. Y'know, some folks're ugly criers, some're ugly sleepers. Believe it or not, some can even be thought of as ugly smilers or laughers. Me: all of the above."

"Well, so maybe you're not a supermodel. Neither am I. But for what it's worth, I've seen you giggle and chuckle a number of times already, and I think you have a sweet smile. Not ugly at all. F.y.i., I also admire how articulate you are."

I managed a shy smirk. "Awww... too kind you are."

"Hee hee...thank you, Yoda. Oh, this is funny. I used to have a cat that actually looked like Yoda. You have any pets?"

"Yeah, Dad and I have a cat. Really Dad's; he spends way more time with him. He's pretty aloof and less than affectionate, but he's warming to me. I think. He lets me lay down on the floor near him and purrs when I pet him. He'll let you scratch his head or under the chin, but as soon as you try to pick him up, nuh-uh. So I mean, I'm a huge cat person, and I'd love another one, but we can't. The one we have now, Binks, he has what's called FIV. Feline AIDS. Used to go out and get in fights with other cats, so there ya have it."

"Really?... Didn't know there was such a thing. I'm sorry to hear that. Does it affect other animals too?"

"Nope, just cats. 'S a real shame, 'cause I'm not interested in having any other pets. We had dogs growing up, but dogs scare me nowadays, especially big ones. I was better at taking care of Heidi, so I was gonna have her when we split up, but then we found out about Binks' disease. So with the ex she went. But my brother and sister-in-law gave me this locket for Christmas one year, with a picture of Heidi in it. See?" I plucked it from my cleavage and snapped it open.

"Oh, how sweet! You always wear it?"

"Pretty much. Lucky for me, it's stainless steel and waterproof."

We finished the meal—almost. Crystal gave her tum a rub and asked me if I was full. I told her I could polish off a bit of dessert. My supper companion agreed. We reached for the dessert menu at the same time. Our hands bumped.

"Oop!" we gigglingly overlapped. A mild warm feeling infused me. Wanting to be a gentlewoman, I let her have the first look. She raised her eyebrows, brought the dessert menu close, then far again. One hand let go and found its way into her purse.

"My gosh, this is printed way smaller than the regular menu."

From said purse Crystal retrieved an eyeglass case, whose contents were logical. Onto her face the eyeglasses ascended. It happened before my very eyes, and yet, I found that the sight of a bespectacled Crystal utterly enchanted me. She adorably arched her brows, rounded her glossed lips into an 'o' and studied the tasty-looking treats. I mind not telling you, Friendly Reader, somehow, these glasses sculpted her face into ever more of a tasty-looking treat for me. They shadowed her eyes and hugged her nose so adorably, I wanted to eat her for dessert. (Erm, her face, that is to say. (Although...))

She settled on a piece of cheesecake and handed me the menu. I decided on an ice cream sundae with chocolate and raspberry, my favorites. We went on sharing fancies and factoids. Much as I reminded myself it must eventually, I wished the dinner didn't have to meet its end. I decided to eat my ice cream in small, sumptuous bites, savoring every morsel. Not to mention this moment.

Once the meal was put away and paid for, we stepped back outside, shook hands and parted ways, sharing the sentiment that we'd had a lovely time. I have to be truthful in saying that as delectable as the corned beef sandwich was, as mouth-watering as that sundae proved... my most palatable treat waited to be enjoyed, back home, later that night.

*****

A Crystal Clear Image

Thursday, November 10th, 2016, 11:13 p.m.

When I moved back in with my father, at first I felt a bit ashamed and embarrassed that I couldn't afford my own place. It's unfair we have a societal stigma that adults who live with their parents are "losers." Or "creepy." Or both. I refuse to let anyone call me those things. I've got my downsides like anyone else, but I'm a nice person and I mean best. Though I can get pretty self-deprecating, thinking of or calling myself a loser, for the stupidest reasons. I'm also a victim of the circumstance that in this tough, cruel world, nice girls often finish last—if at all. I comfort myself, though, with the thought that being good in this life will reward me in my next.

For me, though, cohabitation with my Dad makes sense on a few levels. On one of sentiment, I grew up in this house. All my fondest, tender and sweet memories are here. For practicality, we look after each other on a close basis, bringing home and sharing groceries and so on. And the financial level speaks for itself. Besides, since I talked him into obtaining our own pool table, I'm getting pretty good if I may say so, and he constantly tells me what a good investment it was. It's paid for itself and then lots. It goes without saying he's been shooting far longer than I have, but while some days he still completely wipes the floor with me, other days vice versa!

Sure, neither of us has all the privacy we could ask for, and we've run into the awkward situation of seeing each other scamper naked through the house. Now, fortunately, we're more able to laugh it off. The house is decent-sized, though the way it was built places the bedrooms one on top of the other. We've also heard one another engage in... well, what proves to be way t.m.i., so let's leave it there.

Since Mom died, he's occasionally started dating again and bringing girls home. I approve, though I'm less than sure how much Daniel thinks of it. He and our mother were always a little closer than she and I. Regardless, Dad's a widower, and especially after all he's done and been through, deserves the right to be happy get on with his life. I don't know what his dates think of me living with him, and frankly, it's hard to care—well, in terms of how it might affect me. I just hope it doesn't work against him.

Another apple that landed relatively close to the tree—pun intended—we both like to put the TV on sleep mode and let it lull us down at night. And as Dad likes his a little louder, thus audible for me (and as it's his house) I've started turning on a fan to drown the noise. And also to keep it out when I... engage in my own private happy time. Which brings us back to tonight.

Most of the time I'm content to sit in my chair in front of the TV or computer, and jill off, scratch the record, paddle the pink canoe, pick your favorite. But lately, I've begun embracing the wonder of doing it in bed. Oh, it's glorious. I can't even do the feelings justice in words, but I'll try. Most variables depend on the mood I'm in: sleep mask on or not, laptop/visual aids used or not, toys or digits, etc. Tonight I decided to go with the sleep mask and my toys.

Having as I do a tendency to...well... squirt, I've taken to laying a towel on the bed, then laying me on top of it. I was excited, quite honestly, Frisky Reader. As a shy lesbian with really only online friends, it feels awkward to talk about this. I don't know what others are prone to think about when they pleasure themselves, or what methods they employ. But I do understand everyone's different, with his or her unique blend of kinks. And as long as it's kept behind a closed door and you're not hurting anyone, it's all good. So call me quirky... and pardon my indelicacy, as I shall now describe my evening's exploits.

And so down sank little naked Gwenny Margulies into the mattress, privates tingling with anticipation, deciding that was enough third-person. I let my paws do the walking, passing over flesh, awakening zone after zone. I thought about Crystal: that slightly wavy auburn hair curling around her lovely smiling face, her vibrant vivid persona, the irresistible way she giggled at something cute I said, as she looked down at the menu, that flattering angle of her face tilted downward with those glasses on as she laughed... before I knew it, my girls and Little Gwenny were growing happy.

So much conversation remained fresh in my mind. I reviewed small packets as I began fondling myself. The warm comfort of budding arousal hugged me. My nipples almost always become hard before my pussy dampens. (Sometimes I like to half-work myself up, tweak the girls, stiffen the nips, then walk around in public and wonder if anyone notices. It's more for me than them, admittedly; that kind of attention tickles me—even if from guys, as most of it is. But dudes were not the mental matter I needed right now. Let's get back to a lassie the likes of Crystal Ophelia Weatherly.)