Lovers

Pauly moves in now. As they dance, she puts her hands on Valerie's hips, her eyes fixed on Valerie's breasts almost popping out of the low-cut dress. "Let's go downstairs," Pauly says.

"Downstairs?"

"To the restroom, honey. Let's take a break and go downstairs, okay?"

Pauly leads her away. Valerie is thankful because she's tired of dancing and she needs the john anyway. Pauly holds her with a strong arm around her waist as they make their way off the dance floor and down the stairs to where a line of women waits for the restroom to become available. Valerie and Pauly move into the line, Pauly standing behind Valerie with her crotch pressed against Valerie's ass and her mouth whispering in Valerie's ear as she tells Valerie she's the prettiest flower in the place, much prettier than any of the other femmes. Pauly whispers that she'd like to put it to her, get her dress up right there in the line and give it to her from behind with her fingers. Valerie quivers, excited by Pauly now even though she didn't expect it. The image of Pauly fucking her from behind is exciting. Pauly is different than Cleo and Frankie, more determined, more confident. Valerie feels the big woman radiating sex behind her like a hot oven.

Finally Valerie and Pauly are up at the front of the line, and before long they get their turn and they move into the restroom together. Valerie immediately moves to one of the empty stalls, but then she feels an immediate shock as Pauly pushes behind her into the stall, Pauly locking the door and then grabbing Valerie and kissing her mouth, Pauly's hand sliding under Valerie's dress to get at her cunt, the older woman's thick fingers taking possession of Valerie without any preliminaries.

Valerie gasps. "My god, stop it!"

But Pauly only chuckles. "Come on, baby, give it to mama." She makes Valerie open her legs further, and as soon as Valerie does this, Pauly's fingers are in there more insistent than ever, two fingers and then three fingers pushing inside Valerie's wet cunt, Valerie groaning and finally lifting one foot to the commode to make it easier for Pauly to get her off. It doesn't take long, not with a dyke as skillful as Pauly, and soon Valerie is shuddering as the hot pleasure rips through her body. After the first orgasm, Valerie begs Pauly to stop, but instead Pauly makes Valerie turn around and put her hands on the toilet tank. Pauly now raises Valerie's dress, strokes her ass and then quickly gets her fingers inside Valerie's cunt again, this time from the rear.

Valerie is ravished. She can't stop it now because the pleasure is too sharp. The insides of her thighs are drenched all the way down to the tops of her stockings. She groans and gasps, praying no one outside the stall will hear her. Pauly renews the attack, a fierce fucking in Valerie's cunt with her fingers, and then at last Pauly gets her thumb in Valerie's ass and Pauly says: "Cleo told me you're a hot ass. Yeah, she's right, isn't she?"

In the midst of the wild orgasm, Valerie understands what has happened, understands that Cleo has dumped her, thrown her away, given her to Pauly to be Pauly's dolly.

Valerie comes hard, crying at the same time, sobbing her desperation, and of course Pauly thinks the sobbing means Valerie is in heaven.

Oh god, I don't want this, Valerie thinks. This is not what she wants. She hates Pauly, she hates Cleo, she hates everything that's happened to her. She wants Frankie back. Oh yes, she wants Frankie.

FIFTEEN: FRANKIE

Frankie is sitting alone in a restaurant on Chestnut Street, waiting for Alison, fidgeting with her napkin. She has been back in Chicago three days, and all she cares about now is seeing Alison again. The trip to Washington was dull, or maybe her mind these days just isn't focused enough on her work. What she feels at the moment is anxiety. And sexual expectation. She hopes Alison will be free this afternoon. Frankie wriggles on the chair, wondering if her skirt is wrinkled. Under the tailored jacket she wears a white shirt without a bra, and she can feel the texture of the cloth against her nipples. She looks around the room and she feels her sexual hunger again.

Will she ever be content? When she was a girl, she always thought a full moon so romantic, and what was more important in life than romance? Now she knows it's not romance that's important, it's love. Intense absorbing love. She had that once with Valerie, but maybe it will never return. She had such a difficult time getting Alison to meet her today. For an instant Frankie wonders if maybe Alison is too fickle. Maybe she doesn't care enough. What a pity to meet her in a restaurant and not be able to hug her when they see each other. Play tough, Frankie thinks, always play tough. Alison irritated her yesterday by her coyness about meeting today. She's too beautiful, Frankie thinks. She wants her fingers inside Alison.

I'm living on hope, Frankie thinks. She lives on the hope things will work out for her, her life get settled somehow. What does she want? Does she want Alison or Valerie? Is one woman enough? There are things about Valerie that still excite her immensely. Her legs, for instance. But Alison excites her too. The way Alison purrs when Frankie gropes her. The way Alison likes to offer her ass. Maybe it's the subtlety. Alison is more subtle than Valerie. You don't understand anything, Frankie thinks. She understands torts and estates, but she has no understanding of what she wants from women. She's mystified.

Finally Alison arrives, a tall graceful vision entering the room, looking around, spotting Frankie and walking toward her. Frankie feels the hunger again, an intense desire to taste Alison's beauty.

"Hi," Alison says, a soft smile as she sits down opposite Frankie.

"You look wonderful," Frankie says. And then she adds: "I missed you terribly."

Alison accepts the token of affection with a demure glance. She picks up the menu and she begins discussing it, what she likes, what she doesn't like. She says she hasn't been in this restaurant in some time and she isn't that certain about the food. Frankie has no interest in the food, all she cares about is Alison, the memories of them together, the sequence of erotic images now passing through her mind one after the other, each image burning her brain before it vanishes only to be replaced by another image. What do I want? Frankie thinks. At the moment what she wants is the feel of her chin pushing at Alison's cunt, Alison's juices dribbling on her chin. The memory makes Frankie tremble. She tells herself she has to stop it before she destroys herself.

Alison is different. Frankie senses a change in Alison. They talk about Frankie's trip to Washington, but Alison seems disinterested. She looks at her hands, at her long fingers. Frankie talks, but as she talks she schemes about how to get Alison into bed this afternoon. She wants Alison in her arms. She imagines herself kissing Alison, petting her, yielding to the penchant Alison has to have Frankie's tongue everywhere. Frankie's tongue and nose. A memory of Alison's scent is suddenly so vivid, Frankie shudders with delight. Scintillating.

Then Alison says: "We need to talk about something."

"What?"

"Something important."

"I'm listening."

Frankie tells herself Alison's ass is so perfect, so breathtaking. And her belly. And the way she comes.

Alison says: "I've decided I can't go on with this. I really can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm talking about us. I'm sorry."

Frankie remembers Alison moaning as she hunches up to get more of Frankie's fingers.

"Just like that?"

Alison looks away. "Don't you think it's better to be more direct? I think it's much better."

For a moment Frankie thinks there might be some way to pacify Alison, something Alison wants, anything. But of course it's a mirage.

Frankie says: "Why?"

Alison shrugs. "I've decided I don't want the circumstances."

"You don't want a gay life?"

Nervous, Alison looks around to see if anyone heard. "Yes, that's it."

"Oh shit," Frankie says.

Alison blushes. "I was hoping we'd stay friends."

Frankie looks at her. She says nothing. And then she puts her napkin on the table and she rises. "I'll take care of the check on the way out. Goodby, Alison."

* * *

In her office in the afternoon, Frankie's mood alternates between rage and sadness and frustration. Sexual frustration. She understands that with Alison it was more sex than anything else. Even thinking about Alison now causes her juices to flow. She wanted to be with Alison this afternoon, and now instead it's over, Alison gone from her life, the affair ended. How can I be so stupid? Frankie thinks. The only bedrock in her life is Valerie. Loyal Valerie. Oh yes.

Frankie leaves the office early and she goes to Bloomingdale's. Inside the store, she passes a mirror and she stops to stare at herself. Well-groomed young female attorney who might be a dyke but who might not. What's her niche? She brushes a fleck of lint off her thigh. Then she finds the lingerie department and she buys a black negligee and she has it gift wrapped. Is the salesgirl wondering who the gift is for?

"Would you like a card?"

"No, that's not necessary."

The girl gives Frankie a smug smile. Frankie thinks of something to say, but rather than prolong the farce she takes her package and she leaves. Some women are such rotten bitches, so bitchy they can't be answered.

* * *

In the evening, Frankie kisses Valerie. "Have a nice day?"

Valerie shrugs. "Not much of anything."

"I missed you."

Valerie whimpers. "You did?"

Frankie kisses her again, her tongue sliding over Valerie's mouth. "I bought you a present."

"You did?"

Frankie brings her the Bloomingdale's box, and she sits and she watches Valerie as Valerie giggles and hurries to open the box.

She's beautiful, Frankie thinks. She's more beautiful than Alison.

Valerie moans with joy as she pulls out the black negligee.

"Oh Frankie!"

"Do you like it?"

"I love it! I'll try it on, okay?"

"Sure."

While Valerie is gone, Frankie turns on some music and she pours out two glasses of white wine. Pity she hadn't thought of champagne. She closes the blinds and she turns down some of the lights in the living room. She's eager now, all the anger and pain of the afternoon washed away, the only thought in her mind the next few hours with Valerie.

My only love, Frankie thinks.

Valerie comes into the room wearing the black negligee and high heels, blushing, her dark triangle visible through the sheer folds.

"I love you," Valerie says.

And Frankie says: "Come over here and kiss me."

End