Bidding War (13 page)

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," she replied. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"No. I am trying to have a nice time though. And offering what I can to help you have a nice time, too. I don't know what you like, so I don't know what to offer."

This time she led me to my door and opened it for me. I caressed her cheek before settling in. She closed the door and climbed in on her side.

Before starting the car she turned to me. "You are inviting a lot more touch than I thought I could expect."

"You're not a toucher? Am I driving you crazy?"

"You're driving me crazy all right," she said, looking me up and down.

"Go slow, but you haven't hit my limits yet," I told her. I paused. "Naked isn't in the cards, so if that's your goal, you'll be disappointed."

"I can be very good," she said. "No one has ever complained."

"Gwendolyn, you didn't pay what you did because you wanted someone who would fall into bed on command. You knew I was straight, and you paid an outrageous amount of money anyway. I believe you would be deeply disappointed if I let you take me to bed."

"Is that the only reason you're saying no?"

"Of course not. But if that's what you really
wanted, you should have bid on Bonnie."

She didn't say anything right away. "I have well-developed habits. They aren't necessarily the habits I want to have. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course," I said. "I am just deeply afraid of disappointing you. I can fend off your advances." I paused. "But is that how you want to spend the time together?"

"No, it's not. If I don't knock it off, will you please yell at me?"

"No. I'll just dance with someone else for a while."

She laughed. "Would you really?"

"Absolutely." I paused. "If it turns egregious, I'll get mad, and you won't get a goodnight kiss."

"Oh dear," she said. "I really am sorry."

"Take me dancing, Gwendolyn. You can flirt my ass off all you want, as long as you stop trying to flirt my dress off."

She laughed. "Deal."

She started the car and pulled out of the lot.

"Where are we going to go dancing?" I asked.

"Would a lesbian nightclub bother you?"

"Will I get mauled?"

"Of course not. Unless you want to be."

"I don't. Touching good. Mauling bad."

"It's a safe place."

It took us twenty minutes to reach the bar in Edina. We parked in one of the few remaining places. "Will they have a table?"

"I reserved one," she said. We climbed out, and I took her arm. She led the way to a set of downward steps at the side of the building. We reached the bottom and stepped into a very retro-looking foyer.

"Did you want to check the pashmina?"

"Yes."

Gwendolyn took it from me and gave it to the attendant then took my hand and led me through the double doors into the main room of the nightclub. I looked around. The hostess was dressed like a 1920s flapper, and I saw a waitress dressed in a similar fashion.

"It's an old speakeasy!"

Gwendolyn nodded then turned to the hostess. "Hello, Carol."

"Hello, Gwendolyn," the hostess said. "I have a table along the side, just like you asked." The woman led us to a booth along the wall opposite of the bar. If we had traveled further into the nightclub, we would have arrived at the dance floor.

I looked around. I didn't see any men, but I saw a lot of women. I turned to Gwendolyn. "This is the Underground Lipstick."

She nodded. "You've heard of it?"

"Sam and Suzanne were talking about it a while ago. They'll be amused to know we had come here."

The waitress came by. We ordered diet sodas. "Are you going to have dinner?" she asked.

"No," Gwendolyn said. "But we'll eat something later."

She nodded and disappeared.

We could ear the music clearly from our table, but it wasn't so loud I couldn't talk to Gwendolyn. She had sat across from me, which disappointed me a little, but I decided to play it cool. I looked at the dance floor.

She smiled. "You're anxious to dance."

I nodded.

"Well then, shall we?"

She walked me to the dance floor. We arrived just as the song ended. The next song came on, and I moved into Gwendolyn's arms. She was surprised and didn't know how to dance, so I led, changing grips and pulling her against me. The song was a little bluesy, so I gave her a bluesy style with my right leg between hers, hers between mine, and our pelvises pressed together. Her eyes widened.

"This is a little forward," she said.

I ignored her protests but began moving her side to side in time to the music, using my leg to lead her body movements. She was stiff at first, but once she loosened up, we began to have a nice time.

I looked around a little while we were dancing. There were four other couples dancing, two of them in a fashion similar to us. But mostly I watched Gwendolyn.

She tried to back lead, but I didn't let her. If she wanted to lead, she was going to have to learn to dance properly. The song ended, and she looked a little miffed. I pulled her ear down to my mouth.

"I know you aren't used to letting someone else lead. But I'm a better dancer than you are. Can you enjoy this? If not, we can freestyle."

"Where did the straight girl learn to lead such a passionate style?"

A new song came up. It was a slow song. I adjusted my stance, wrapping my arms around her neck and laying my head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and we swayed slowly to the music.

The previous dances had been a little stressful for me, but this was nice, and my heart began to pound while being held in Gwendolyn's arms. I could breath
e in her scent and feel her strong arms wrapped around me. She was a perfect height for me, and being held by her felt good.

I sighed against her neck.

"Is this okay?" she asked into my ear.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I'm not very good."

"Stop it," I told her. "All that matters is you try to have a nice time. Do you like holding me?"

"Yes."

"I like being held by you.
That's all that matters. Focus on that."

I felt her relax, and things felt better right away.

The song ended too soon and was followed by something very fast. Gwendolyn tried to pull away right away, but I held her for a moment, then when I did release her, I looked up into her eyes. I liked our height difference and her strength. She was strong and soft at the same time, a new experience for me.

Then I slipped to her side and cuddled against her arm, leaning my head on her shoulder again. We moved back to our booth, retreating from the loud music, and when she slid into her seat, I slid in next to her, maintaining our contact. I clutched her arm with both of my hands and kept my head on her shoulder.

"Is this what you envisioned?" I asked her.

"No. I thought you would be standoffish."

"Do you want me to be?"

"No." She laughed a little. "But I had a game plan for trying to get you to relax, and I didn't make one for this."

I looked up at her, and she looked down into my eyes. "In your past relationships, who usually leads?"

"I do."

I smiled. "So the surgeon doesn't know what to do when she doesn't have a plan prepared?"

"No. Everything I do is planned."

"Well, if you want to lead, you better make a plan quick or I'm leading all night."

She offered a half smile.

"While you're thinking about it, tell me a story."

"A story? Once upon a time?"

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Gwendolyn," I said. "She was a very precocious child, tall for her age and a little bit of a tomboy, but sweet and gentle at the same time." I paused. "I don't know the rest."

"I don't have many happy stories from growing up," she said quietly.

"How about an important story?"

"All right," she agreed. "Gwendolyn's early childhood, which she barely remembers, was happy. Her father was a busy man, big a strong, but he had hoped for a boy, and he had little time for his young daughter. Gwendolyn's mother did what she could to make up for this, and Gwendolyn knew she was loved by her mother, and even her father in his own way."

She took a sip from her soda.

"Christmas Eve, when the little girl was seven years old, that all changed. Gwendolyn, her mommy and her daddy were taking a chariot ride home from Grandmama's house when another chariot driver, driven by someone who had consumed seven too many eggnogs, crashed into Gwendolyn's father's chariot." She paused. My heart sinking, I looked up at her. She was staring into space. I thought about stopping her, but she wouldn't have picked this story if she hadn't wanted to tell me. I clutched her more firmly.

After several moments, Gwendolyn continued the story. "Gwendolyn herself was riding in the back seat and was amazingly lucky, suffering bruises from the seat belt but no other damage. Gwendolyn's parents were not so lucky. Mommy was killed immediately. Daddy was hurt badly." She paused.

"Gwendolyn began immediately screaming for her mommy, but Mommy wasn't answering. Neither was Daddy. She was old enough, and very precocious, that she understand this was very, very bad. Gwendolyn's door was jammed shut from the accident, and the window was smashed, so after trying the door several times, she climbed out through the window. Both front doors had flown open in the accident, and Gwendolyn flew to her mommy's side right away, but Mommy wasn't responsive to Gwendolyn's screams. When she look across to Daddy, he was making strange noises."

"Gwendolyn screamed, 'Daddy, Daddy', and ran around the car to his side. There was blood on his face, and he was making gurgling sounds trying to breath. Blood was pouring out of a wound in his arm. Gwendolyn knew that was bad, and she wrapped her hands tightly around the wound, trying to stop the blood, but it kept gushing out around her small hands."

By now there were tears crawling down my cheeks as I thought about this young girl facing first hand the death of both of her parents. I didn't bother hiding them, but clutched Gwendolyn more tightly. I felt her glance down and squeeze my hand.

"It took a long time for the policemen to come. Daddy had stopped making any noises before they came. A lady police officer pulled a screaming Gwendolyn away from her daddy, and Gwendolyn doesn't remember anything after that for a long time. All she remembers is thinking, if she were a doctor, she could have saved Daddy."

Gwendolyn's voice changed. "Of course, that wasn't remotely true. The injuries were far too severe, but seven-year-old Gwendolyn didn't understand that."

She paused, and her voice changed again, becoming bitter. "Gwendolyn's father's parents died before Gwendolyn was born, and her Mommy's parents were living in a nursing home. They couldn't take care of a little girl. Both Mommy and Daddy were only children, and so there was no one to take care of little Gwendolyn. And so, she spent her middle childhood years in The Foster System."

"As a foster child, Gwendolyn learned to avoid Foster Daddy, especially when he had been drinking. As she got older, she learned to avoid him entirely and grew to understand men were not nice creatures. Foster Mommy was better. She only hit Gwendolyn when Gwendolyn deserved it, such as telling lies about what Foster Daddy tried to do to her."

"Oh god," I said.

She patted my hand for a moment. "Gwendolyn was very good at avoiding Foster Daddy, though, and he was never able to do anything too bad. But when Gwendolyn turned sixteen, she applied for and was granted emancipation, declared a legal adult. The judge told her that he had never met a more adult sixteen year old in his entire years on the bench, although he was concerned about Gwendolyn's ability to keep a job while going to school. Upon hearing about Gwendolyn's desires to become a doctor, the judge called a friend of his and got Gwendolyn a job in a doctor's office, where she was paid far more than a sixteen-year-old should have been paid, even including a small room over the garage of the doctor's house."

"Doctor Travis was a kindly man, not that many years away from retirement, and his wife was equally kind. Their children had long ago moved away, and they missed having them around, so they doted on Gwendolyn, providing love and guidance as she became a young adult, earning full scholarships first to college and then medical school. It was Doctor Travis who suggested she become a vascular surgeon, and it was perhaps the best advice he ever gave Gwendolyn that she took. He also told her to take time to be happy, but she was never very good at following that advice."

Gwendolyn paused, and her voice changed once more. "And that is how Gwendolyn became the person she is, very focused, always having a plan, not always able to trust men, and perhaps emotionally reserved. But from Doctor and Mrs. Travis, she learned to be kind and gentle and to understand that not all men are like Foster Daddy.
It's why Gwendolyn is very, very good at some things and very, very bad at everything else. It's why her house is sterile and her dates never last more than a weekend. But it is also why she is a good surgeon and a good lover."