Authors: Julia P. Lynde
She looked down at me, then reached with her finger and wiped the tears from my cheeks.
"I'm not sure why I told you that story," she said. "I've never told it to anyone ever before."
"I'm glad you did," I told her. "Thank you." I burrowed into her side just a little tighter, and she moved her arm around my shoulder, meaning I could burrow even deeper into her side.
We sat quietly like that for several minutes before Gwendolyn said, "I have a plan."
I looked up. "Going to share?"
"Yes. My plan is to ask you to lead."
I smiled at her. "All right." I thought for a moment. "Is my makeup smudged?"
"Yes, but that's all right."
"No, it's not. I am going to go fix my makeup. While I am gone, you are going to order something light for us to eat, whatever you want, but nothing heavy or deep fried. When I get back, you are going to flirt my ass off. We are going to dance to some of the songs, and you are going to feed me when we're not dancing.
" I paused. "I want to feel your sweet, gentle, surgeon's hands on my skin. I want to melt into your arms." I paused again. "Is that a good plan?"
"That's an excellent plan," she said. "Where may I touch you?"
"Any bare skin is fair game." I thought about it. "Except lips. You don't get to touch those until later. And no cheating!"
She laughed. "No cheating."
I slid out from under her arm, collecting my purse and looking for the bathrooms. Once I got there, I cleaned up then took a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Her story had left me shocked, but it offered perspective that perhaps no one else knew. But I knew now why she'd bid on me, and what she wanted from me. She wanted more healing. A part of her was missing, and she wanted me to help her find it.
I realized something else. If I wasn't careful, I could fall in love with her. I wasn't at all sure I was ready to go down that path. And if I were going to fall in love with a woman, I wasn't sure whether it should be Gwendolyn or Moira.
With my appearance fixed, I took one more deep breath and headed back to our table. When I arrived, Gwendolyn was messing with her phone. I slipped into the booth and told her, "Unless it's a medical emergency, put it away and don't take it out again tonight."
"Just a minute," she said, still fiddling with her phone.
I reached over and took it away from her.
"Hey!" she said, reaching for it. I held it out of her reach.
"Is there a medical reason why you are paying attention to your phone instead of your date?"
"I'm checking on two of my patients."
"If there was a need for your attention, would the hospital call you?"
She looked away.
"That's what I thought. If there is a real, medical reason you need to check on them, you can have your phone back. Otherwise put it in your purse and leave it there. I'm serious, Gwendolyn."
She looked back at me. "You're bossy."
"I am telling you clearly how I want to be treated." I handed her the phone. "I guess it's up to you if you're going to listen to me."
She glanced at the phone and I clenched my teeth, but she simply pushed one button to make the screen go dark, then slipped it back in her purse.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For the record, if there is ever a real need to check on your patients, of course you should do so. But if you hide behind your phone and become reserved from me, I will be deeply hurt."
"Is that what I was doing?" she asked.
"Yes. You just shared a very intimate story with me, and now you're afraid, so you're retreating. I won't have it." But I smiled when I said it, then I snuggled back under her arm, physically lifting it in place around my shoulders.
She was a little stiff at first, but then the hand draped over my shoulders moved to the back of my neck. She began playing with my hair and caressing the skin on my neck and ear. I looked up at her and smiled.
"I like that," I told her.
She smiled.
Over the next several minutes, she relaxed, and her touches grew slightly bolder. I was sitting to her right, so it was her right hand caressing my neck. She reached over with her left and cheated a little. I was wearing nylons, so my legs weren't bare, but I didn't complain when she began tracing patterns with a finger on my leg. But when she tried nudging my hemline a little higher, I told her that was cheating, and if she did it again, there would be a penalty.
"What sort of penalty?" she asked. "Maybe I'm willing to pay it."
"I'll move to the other side of the table."
"Oh hell," she said. "You don't fool around."
"Not on the first date," I said.
She sputtered at that.
"Maybe on the second."
"Tease."
I'd been listening to the music. There had been a set of music I didn't care to listen to, but then a slow song came on. I'd been paying attention to the pattern. The DJ would play several songs of a particular style and tempo, then a slow song. The next set would be different from the previous one, and then another slow song.
"Time to dance," I told her. "You will lead."
I slipped out of the booth, pulling her after me, but then let her lead the way to the dance floor, holding hands. She found an open space for us, and I immediately moved into her arms.
She was warm and strong and soft, and I loved how she smelled. My head was on her shoulder with my face buried in her neck. She wasn't wearing any perfume, so the scent coming from her was a combination of her own unique scent, a subtle scent from the soap she used, and a slightly less subtle scent from her shampoo.
The combination was soft and lovely.
My arms were wrapped around her, underneath her arms. Hers were wrapped around me. I felt one hand slide down to rest right at the top of my ass; if it had gone any further, I would have had to stop her, but she stopped at the lowest point I was willing to allow. The other hand lifted up to play with the skin at the back of my neck.
"You like living dangerously," I told her.
"Dangerous would have been three inches lower," she replied.
"More like a half inch, Gwendolyn." I kept my tone light.
She squeezed me a little. "I am very precise," she said.
I laughed into her neck.
We swayed to the music, one hand of hers playing with the back of my neck, the other resting, a half inch from danger. When the song ended, we clutched each other for a moment while listening to what would come next.
It was another bluesy piece.
"Do you remember how to dance to this?" I asked her.
"Yes, but I don't know how."
I shifted us into position then told her, "You're leading. Think about trying to seduce me, but you know if you go too far or too fast, I'll run away."
She grinned at me. "I can do that." And then something changed in her, and she gave me three amazing dances, raising my heart rate dramatically, and I wondered if she could feel that she'd made me damp between my legs. Then the set ended, and she pulled me into her arms for the slow song.
"I need to sit after that," I told her. "Wow."
"Nice?"
"Oh yes. I'm not going to tell you how nice."
She squeezed me more tightly for a moment. And when her hand slid down an inch lower than it had during the last slow song, I didn't stop her. She did it tentatively, perhaps to judge my reaction, then I felt her relax a little more.
Her fingers played with the top of my ass. It felt good. I didn't stop that, either.
The song ended, and I kissed her neck and said, "Feed me." She took my hand and led me from the dance floor. When we got to our booth, I saw an appetizer platter was there with a variety of foods, all of them light and nummy-looking. We sat down, and I immediately plastered myself to her side.
She was forced to serve us one handed, as her right was draped over my shoulders. She set a plate in front of each of us, but I took my plate and slid it to the side, well out of her reach.
"I thought you wanted me to feed you."
"I do. Is there some reason we need two plates?"
She slid her plate so it was centered between us on the table and piled a few things on it. Then she picked one up and ate it.
I was serious about her feeding me, but I wanted to
see if she would figure it out. She finished the little appetizer. I wasn't sure what it was. Then she picked up a carrot and ate that.
"You're not eating," she observed.
"They taste better from your fingers," I replied.
"Oh. Ohhh." I looked up and caught her grinning at me. She picked up a grape and offered it to me. I opened my mouth and waited for her to slip it between my lips. Her fingers brushed my lips when she did it.
"Oh oh," she said. "You said your lips were off limits."
"Rules can temporarily change," I said. "What's that one?" I said, gesturing at the plate with my nose.
"That's a carrot."
"No, silly, the other one."
"Mushroom."
I sighed. "The other, other one."
"Cheese. Cheddar, I believe."
"The other, other, other one."
"Celery?"
"Last chance," I told her. "Or I'll feed myself."
She laughed. "This one?" She picked up something that looked like a miniature tart. I nodded. "Crab dip tarts, I believe they're called."
"Yes, please," I told her. The tart was too big to slide into my mouth whole, so when she offered it, I took a bite from it then watched when she took the second half.
I let her feed me a few more appetizers, then another slow song came on, and I immediately pulled her from the booth to dance. We danced the slow song, and then there was a set of swing music.
"Do you swing dance?" I asked her.
"Do I what?"
So I took over the lead and taught her the basic swing six-count step with a couple of turns. I don't like leading swing with someone significantly taller than I am, and she got her head bumped a couple of times when I couldn't reach high enough over her head, but we had a nice three songs, then stepped together for another slow song.
"That was fun," she said. "Except when you hit my head."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"If we start dating, would you go to dance lessons with me? I would rather you could lead."
She didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry," I said. "That was a silly question."
"Was it a serious question?" she asked.
"I don't know. Maybe."
She squeezed me very tightly.
"I thought you were straight," she said.
"How would you feel about dating a straight girl? All the dating and none of the sex?"
She thought about it for a while. "Pamela," she said eventually. "I think I might like that. And in that case, dance lessons sound like fun."
"If you get all competitive with me, I won't go with you," I told her. "It's supposed to be fun."
"People dance competitively," she said.
"Yes, but I don't. Not remotely interested."
The song ended, and she led us back to our table.
That was how we spent the rest of the evening. She fed me more appetizers while we cuddled in the booth. We danced every slow song and some of the sets. And by the end of the evening, her hand was resting firmly on my ass during the slow dances. She didn't take any other liberties, however, and the attention felt nice.
Eventually it was time to go. Gwendolyn paid our bill, settled my pashmina in place, and led the way to her car. We stepped to my door, and she turned me to face her, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me close against her. I buried my head in her shoulder, but she used a hand to lift my chin towards her, and I knew she wanted to kiss me.
What was it with my dates asking for kisses in parking lots? I raised my fingers and set them against her lips before she could kiss me.
"I want to kiss you, too," I told her. "But not here. Please take me home, Gwendolyn."
She nodded, releasing me, then opening my door so I could climb into her car.
On the way home, she asked me about past boyfriends. I was telling her a story about a college boyfriend I'd dated briefly. I finished the story and realized I didn't have a clue where we were.
"Um. Where are we going?"
"You told me to take you home."
"Gwen
dolyn. A kiss. Not sex. My home, not yours."
"Oh hell," she said. "I'm sorry. I reverted to habits."
"It's okay," I told her. "But now I can't let you use tongue."
She laughed. "Like you were going to."
We continued to share stories. I asked her about medical school. She asked me about finance. I asked her about her favorite girlfriend.
"None of them measure up to you," she said.
"Oh that is such a line!"