Outing of the Heart (55 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
The sting of the water jets was enjoyable as she rinsed off the suds and thought back to that time in her apartment, how she had missed out before. Now was her chance to make Sidonie feel so good; to explore her body, learn everything about her.
Stepping out of the cubicle, a cool breeze from the window brought up goose bumps on her sensitive skin. This was such a bewitching time of day. The sun, yielding its dominance to the magical powers of the moon. The moon, every lover's friend and confidante, providing night's mystical shadows, making all things possible; giving even the most trepid of lovers the courage to pursue her course.
Sidonie had laid out her clothes on the bed in readiness, and had the toiletries for her ablutions to hand, on Tenille's return. A soft: âSee you soon,' as the door closed quietly.
Tenille had dithered between being exposed, all bare arms and shoulders or covered up. Finally the decision had been to cover up. Everything she'd picked had been plain. Plain white crop top and matching cotton briefs. Another plain white cotton dress, this time in her favorite, crinkled Indian cotton. The top half had white satin embroidery across the bosom, with little brown buttons running through, which tucked into a salmon pink sash of the same fabric. This was wrapped around her waist several times, the ends falling with the fullness of the skirt. The dress finished in a deep flounce at mid calf. Sidonie liked her hair when it was off her face, so she pulled it back into a white on white, embroidered scrunchie, giving herself a centre part, the way she wore it for dancing, only this time it curled loosely to her shoulders.
Now for the face. As she worked on her eyes, she noticed again Sidonie's clothes on the bed.
“What a contrast we'll be,”
she thought. She liked her colors, the forest green with black. She was glad now she had chosen white. She'd almost finished when Sidonie returned.
âThat's a nice shower, don't you think?'
âMm..m,' she responded as she concentrated on her eyelashes. With her back to Tenille, Sidonie dressed quickly. She'd already gotten her underwear on so it didn't take a moment to slip into the shirt and pants. When she turned around, she went over to the duchess and began to brush her hair with quick, deft strokes, leaving the front to fall across one eye and the sides to curve toward the centre at the back.
She looked into the mirror at Tenille as she finished brushing and bending her head towards her whispered: âMy, how beautiful you are.'
Tenille returned her gaze, frozen for a moment in time, holding the brush in one hand and the mascara container in the other, their eyes locking as their hearts hammered. Sidonie broke the spell as she straightened up: âI have to pop down to see the guys. I'll need them to give me a wake up call. Will you need one too?'
Tenille considered. âYes, I'd better.'
âWhat time?' her hand was already on the doorknob.
âMake it seven, please.'
âI'm on it.'
Tenille picked up her rings and two gold bracelets. They were all good legacies from her marriage, but held no sentiment; items of adornment only.
Surveying herself critically in the looking glass, she thought:
“She thinks I'm beautiful. I wonder if she sees more in me than just my looks? I hope so.”
A deep sigh. “
Only time will tell.”
With this she gave a mental shake and chided herself for her despondency when she should be happy.
“Your moods never used to fluctuate like this, Tennie. What's the matter with you?”
Heavily, she pushed herself away from the table and rose from the stool.
âI heard that,' came Sidonie's voice from the doorway: âSuch a big sigh. Is everything all right?'
âOh yes. I just sigh sometimes. It doesn't mean anything.' Keen to deflect this attention she continued: âIs it time for us to go?'
As Sidonie gave a quick glance at her watch, she noticed a pinkie ring on her left hand and stepped forward to give closer inspection. In so doing a beautiful aroma, very much to her liking, assailed her. The ring was silver, medium sized, fashioned of several intertwined bands. It suited her hand perfectly. Tenille made an observation to that effect, admiring its unusualness.
âI'm glad you like it,' she acknowledged modestly, âit's Mexican. Shall we go?' then smiled her pleasure.
It was now seven o'clock. They could take their time walking down. She pictured the evening stretching ahead of them; the soft ambiance of the restaurant, conducive to quiet intimacy, providing a field of energy for their points of attraction. Tenille gave her such a feeling of centeredness. Nothing she could define, but she was more her âessential' self with her, than at any other time.
Work was fulfilling to a degree, but that represented only one facet of the personality that made up this person called Sid. Being with the gang was good, either on the sports field or in the bar, but again, she was still fragmented into the persona which suited that particular situation; that cohort of buddies.
With Tenille, she was truly her whole self, capable and competent; cherishing and loving, her butchness appreciated and valued. Tenille enjoyed her difference, she had seen it in her eyes; had caught her looking ⦠really looking. This felt the way it should be, she knew it. Just knew it. At times, least expected, her body would flame with desire. She smiled happily to herself. Such moments were becoming more and more frequent between them, reinforcing her expectation that something exceptional was developing. She didn't want this woman to slip away. She hoped; hope against hope that Tenille would feel how special it was for them. She believed she wasn't interested in a novel experience, but didn't know for sure. This night; this first night alone together, could be the turning point in her destiny. Everything had to go right. She felt fatalistic. If they hit it off; if she could be for Tenille what she needed, wanted; then this could be the beginning of forever. She sighed at the profoundness of her musings, thinking how unlike her to be so introspective. This time it was Tenille's turn to reach across the silence and enquire if everything was all right. âYou were so quiet, then such a big sigh,' she observed.
âYes, my lovely, everything is all right, in fact ⦠it's perfect.' She placed her hand gently on the back of Tenille's neck and looked deeply into her eyes. Her senses reeled with the impact of this light caress on her skin. She couldn't understand these reactions. Sidonie was not being sexual, only showing friendliness, but her body seemed to translate everything into an erotic experience. How many times now, had she told herself to get a grip? A woman of her age shouldn't be behaving like some lovesick adolescent.
As they approached the restaurant they could hear the sound of music and merry-making. Sidonie held open the door. The place was buzzing around the bar at the front, but looking through to the interior, vacant tables were in evidence. A slight young man with a beautiful tan smiled as he approached them and enquired if they were here for dinner. Sidonie gave her name and informed him of their reservation.
âAh yes; of course,' he replied pleasantly as if he should have known all along. âYou have this table up here, in the corner. I hope it suits.'
She indicated she was well pleased and turning to Tenille, suggested she take the seat against the wall. She herself had been here many times, it would be more interesting for her to look out.
âAnyway, I'd rather look at you,' she added gallantly.
Tenille, feeling excited and full of eager anticipation, enjoyed the compliment and did not, as she would have done in the past, blush and retreat. Instead, with newfound confidence, she looked back into Sidonie's eyes and simply nodded graciously.
Once settled and drinks ordered, they spent some moments perusing the menu. A varied selection was on offer so it took time to come to a decision. Sidonie gave guidance from her previous experiences. Finally, Tenille chose the poached trout with baby carrots in a mustard and butter sauce. Sidonie opted for rack of rosemaried lamb and snow peas. They both decided on the baked potato with sour cream and chives.
Sidonie cast about for familiar faces, but it was early yet. Tenille was surprised there were as many mixed tables as of the same gender. This she had not expected, but mixing together made more sense. She could not pick out the typical stereotype from either side, everyone looking very usual and normal. Why had she expected them to be outrageous? She guessed stereotyping had a lot to answer for.
When it came time for dessert, neither had space. The evening had gone well and Sidonie was sitting back replete and content, enjoying her coffee and Tenille's anecdotes, when she felt a presence behind her. A voice was saying: âI thought it was you. We're across the way and I was so sure my eyes were not deceiving me.'
She turned and looked into the well groomed visage of Dearne Baxter, looking a million dollars tonight, although the tell-tale flush of one who has imbibed liberally and is ready to take on the world, spoiled the air of sophistication.
âHello Dearne,' Sidonie responded coolly. The last person she wanted in her life, right this minute, was a pleasure-seeking, woman-hungry, Ex. Not an Ex. really, but she had been smitten once. One weekend was all it had taken to show her the error of her ways. Dearne was a sophisticate who'd been the rounds, always hunting after that new thrill; the one butch who could make her feel more; experience the ultimate. But who knew what the ultimate was? Would Dearne know if she did achieve it? Well, she wasn't interested and here was Tenille with inquiry in her eyes.
âHope you two had a good dinner.' Dearne was looking pointedly from one to the other.
âOh Dearne ⦠this is Tenille. Her first time here.'
“Now why did I add that?”
âHello. My name's Dearne,' throwing Sidonie another pointed look. âMind if I plonk myself next to you?' Not waiting for an answer, she sat on the upholstered bench and proceeded to direct all her conversation to Sidonie, who responded reluctantly, seeing no way of stopping the flow of this woman's talk. Tenille, uncomfortable, could tell from Dearne's behavior she knew Sidonie well and being already pretty tanked, looked fair set to renewing old ties; ones she could only guess at. Her brain began to struggle against the flooding tide of corrosive possibilities, surging into her mind. The drift of the talk began to make it clear they had been of an intimate nature. She sat rigid through their exchange, her face stony, an exploding jealousy rushing through her body, leaving a shaking weakness in its wake. Her thoughts continued to churn.
At last Sidonie found the opening she needed. The dinner
was
not winding down at all how she had pictured it. âDearne, your friends will be missing you and you wouldn't want them to leave without you.' Her intonation was emphatic.
Dearne stopped in mid-reminiscence. Looking across at her former table she saw several of the party standing up.
âOh, you're right as usual, Sugar. I'd best be off. So nice to have met you er ⦠well, yes.' She looked at Tenille then away again at her friends. As she stood, the cloth dragged on her thigh which caused Tenille's glass to topple. Fortunately there was not enough wine to reach the white dress, but the ensuing concern of those around, caused Tenille's cheeks to flame bright red. No embarrassment for Dearne it seemed. Her only contribution was to say vacuously: âSilly me,' as everyone else fussed to put things right. Finally, she took herself out of the confusion and Sidonie was able to heave a sigh of relief.
âSorry about that,' she apologized, floundering in waves of guilt, but there was no warmth in Tenille's: âNot a problem.'
“Damn that woman. Why did she have to come along and spoil things?”
she groaned. What to do? By now a fresh cloth was on the table and they were alone once more.
âLet's have one nightcap and then we'll be on our way. What do you say?' She did not want to leave with Dearne's voice ringing in their ears. Delaying their exit would be a smart move. Two Irish Coffees arrived. Sidonie would only taste hers; too much alcohol made her sleepy and tonight of all nights, she wanted to be on the ball.
Their former mood of closeness was hard to regain. Perhaps an explanation would clear up any misunderstandings? She launched into an account of that one-time fling with Dearne. Tenille listened in silence, her face controlled, purged of expression. By the end of the story, but really there wasn't much to tell, Sidonie felt she had been somewhat mollified, although the face didn't show its previous radiance. She could do no more; time would have to shorten the distance between them. Tenille was over-reacting anyway. Dearne was someone way in the past; a long time over and done with, despite how she had made it look tonight.
âShall we go?' she suggested, the voice coming out short and gruff.
Tenille smiled her agreement, feeling she'd been too touchy getting so upset; wanting to be close again.
âYes. It will be good to be out in the fresh air.'
They split the bill and Sidonie took it to the front desk, by the bar. There they saw Dearne and her group, all talking noisily around one of the high drinks tables. She spotted Sidonie at the cashier's and made an unsteady beeline to her side. By this time she was really flying high. Draping her arm over Sidonie's shoulder, she stood directly in front of her, her back against the counter and delivered in slurred syllables: âYou know ⦠you were the best. I never w..wanted you to go out of my life. Come b..back, Sid. You and I could r..really go places.' She bent her head down to rest on Sidonie's other shoulder. Gently, but firmly, she lifted Dearne's head and removed her arm. She didn't let it show that she was furious, but her eyes smouldered, dark with anger and frustration. This woman was ruining everything. She felt the rage grow inside; knew she had to check its fierce fury. She could snap and she didn't want to, not here, not now. Tenille's dismay was palpable at this uninhibited display of desire. Others around them stopped to watch the unfolding of this squalid little drama, intrigued as to its outcome.
Stepping out of the cubicle, a cool breeze from the window brought up goose bumps on her sensitive skin. This was such a bewitching time of day. The sun, yielding its dominance to the magical powers of the moon. The moon, every lover's friend and confidante, providing night's mystical shadows, making all things possible; giving even the most trepid of lovers the courage to pursue her course.
Sidonie had laid out her clothes on the bed in readiness, and had the toiletries for her ablutions to hand, on Tenille's return. A soft: âSee you soon,' as the door closed quietly.
Tenille had dithered between being exposed, all bare arms and shoulders or covered up. Finally the decision had been to cover up. Everything she'd picked had been plain. Plain white crop top and matching cotton briefs. Another plain white cotton dress, this time in her favorite, crinkled Indian cotton. The top half had white satin embroidery across the bosom, with little brown buttons running through, which tucked into a salmon pink sash of the same fabric. This was wrapped around her waist several times, the ends falling with the fullness of the skirt. The dress finished in a deep flounce at mid calf. Sidonie liked her hair when it was off her face, so she pulled it back into a white on white, embroidered scrunchie, giving herself a centre part, the way she wore it for dancing, only this time it curled loosely to her shoulders.
Now for the face. As she worked on her eyes, she noticed again Sidonie's clothes on the bed.
“What a contrast we'll be,”
she thought. She liked her colors, the forest green with black. She was glad now she had chosen white. She'd almost finished when Sidonie returned.
âThat's a nice shower, don't you think?'
âMm..m,' she responded as she concentrated on her eyelashes. With her back to Tenille, Sidonie dressed quickly. She'd already gotten her underwear on so it didn't take a moment to slip into the shirt and pants. When she turned around, she went over to the duchess and began to brush her hair with quick, deft strokes, leaving the front to fall across one eye and the sides to curve toward the centre at the back.
She looked into the mirror at Tenille as she finished brushing and bending her head towards her whispered: âMy, how beautiful you are.'
Tenille returned her gaze, frozen for a moment in time, holding the brush in one hand and the mascara container in the other, their eyes locking as their hearts hammered. Sidonie broke the spell as she straightened up: âI have to pop down to see the guys. I'll need them to give me a wake up call. Will you need one too?'
Tenille considered. âYes, I'd better.'
âWhat time?' her hand was already on the doorknob.
âMake it seven, please.'
âI'm on it.'
Tenille picked up her rings and two gold bracelets. They were all good legacies from her marriage, but held no sentiment; items of adornment only.
Surveying herself critically in the looking glass, she thought:
“She thinks I'm beautiful. I wonder if she sees more in me than just my looks? I hope so.”
A deep sigh. “
Only time will tell.”
With this she gave a mental shake and chided herself for her despondency when she should be happy.
“Your moods never used to fluctuate like this, Tennie. What's the matter with you?”
Heavily, she pushed herself away from the table and rose from the stool.
âI heard that,' came Sidonie's voice from the doorway: âSuch a big sigh. Is everything all right?'
âOh yes. I just sigh sometimes. It doesn't mean anything.' Keen to deflect this attention she continued: âIs it time for us to go?'
As Sidonie gave a quick glance at her watch, she noticed a pinkie ring on her left hand and stepped forward to give closer inspection. In so doing a beautiful aroma, very much to her liking, assailed her. The ring was silver, medium sized, fashioned of several intertwined bands. It suited her hand perfectly. Tenille made an observation to that effect, admiring its unusualness.
âI'm glad you like it,' she acknowledged modestly, âit's Mexican. Shall we go?' then smiled her pleasure.
It was now seven o'clock. They could take their time walking down. She pictured the evening stretching ahead of them; the soft ambiance of the restaurant, conducive to quiet intimacy, providing a field of energy for their points of attraction. Tenille gave her such a feeling of centeredness. Nothing she could define, but she was more her âessential' self with her, than at any other time.
Work was fulfilling to a degree, but that represented only one facet of the personality that made up this person called Sid. Being with the gang was good, either on the sports field or in the bar, but again, she was still fragmented into the persona which suited that particular situation; that cohort of buddies.
With Tenille, she was truly her whole self, capable and competent; cherishing and loving, her butchness appreciated and valued. Tenille enjoyed her difference, she had seen it in her eyes; had caught her looking ⦠really looking. This felt the way it should be, she knew it. Just knew it. At times, least expected, her body would flame with desire. She smiled happily to herself. Such moments were becoming more and more frequent between them, reinforcing her expectation that something exceptional was developing. She didn't want this woman to slip away. She hoped; hope against hope that Tenille would feel how special it was for them. She believed she wasn't interested in a novel experience, but didn't know for sure. This night; this first night alone together, could be the turning point in her destiny. Everything had to go right. She felt fatalistic. If they hit it off; if she could be for Tenille what she needed, wanted; then this could be the beginning of forever. She sighed at the profoundness of her musings, thinking how unlike her to be so introspective. This time it was Tenille's turn to reach across the silence and enquire if everything was all right. âYou were so quiet, then such a big sigh,' she observed.
âYes, my lovely, everything is all right, in fact ⦠it's perfect.' She placed her hand gently on the back of Tenille's neck and looked deeply into her eyes. Her senses reeled with the impact of this light caress on her skin. She couldn't understand these reactions. Sidonie was not being sexual, only showing friendliness, but her body seemed to translate everything into an erotic experience. How many times now, had she told herself to get a grip? A woman of her age shouldn't be behaving like some lovesick adolescent.
As they approached the restaurant they could hear the sound of music and merry-making. Sidonie held open the door. The place was buzzing around the bar at the front, but looking through to the interior, vacant tables were in evidence. A slight young man with a beautiful tan smiled as he approached them and enquired if they were here for dinner. Sidonie gave her name and informed him of their reservation.
âAh yes; of course,' he replied pleasantly as if he should have known all along. âYou have this table up here, in the corner. I hope it suits.'
She indicated she was well pleased and turning to Tenille, suggested she take the seat against the wall. She herself had been here many times, it would be more interesting for her to look out.
âAnyway, I'd rather look at you,' she added gallantly.
Tenille, feeling excited and full of eager anticipation, enjoyed the compliment and did not, as she would have done in the past, blush and retreat. Instead, with newfound confidence, she looked back into Sidonie's eyes and simply nodded graciously.
Once settled and drinks ordered, they spent some moments perusing the menu. A varied selection was on offer so it took time to come to a decision. Sidonie gave guidance from her previous experiences. Finally, Tenille chose the poached trout with baby carrots in a mustard and butter sauce. Sidonie opted for rack of rosemaried lamb and snow peas. They both decided on the baked potato with sour cream and chives.
Sidonie cast about for familiar faces, but it was early yet. Tenille was surprised there were as many mixed tables as of the same gender. This she had not expected, but mixing together made more sense. She could not pick out the typical stereotype from either side, everyone looking very usual and normal. Why had she expected them to be outrageous? She guessed stereotyping had a lot to answer for.
When it came time for dessert, neither had space. The evening had gone well and Sidonie was sitting back replete and content, enjoying her coffee and Tenille's anecdotes, when she felt a presence behind her. A voice was saying: âI thought it was you. We're across the way and I was so sure my eyes were not deceiving me.'
She turned and looked into the well groomed visage of Dearne Baxter, looking a million dollars tonight, although the tell-tale flush of one who has imbibed liberally and is ready to take on the world, spoiled the air of sophistication.
âHello Dearne,' Sidonie responded coolly. The last person she wanted in her life, right this minute, was a pleasure-seeking, woman-hungry, Ex. Not an Ex. really, but she had been smitten once. One weekend was all it had taken to show her the error of her ways. Dearne was a sophisticate who'd been the rounds, always hunting after that new thrill; the one butch who could make her feel more; experience the ultimate. But who knew what the ultimate was? Would Dearne know if she did achieve it? Well, she wasn't interested and here was Tenille with inquiry in her eyes.
âHope you two had a good dinner.' Dearne was looking pointedly from one to the other.
âOh Dearne ⦠this is Tenille. Her first time here.'
“Now why did I add that?”
âHello. My name's Dearne,' throwing Sidonie another pointed look. âMind if I plonk myself next to you?' Not waiting for an answer, she sat on the upholstered bench and proceeded to direct all her conversation to Sidonie, who responded reluctantly, seeing no way of stopping the flow of this woman's talk. Tenille, uncomfortable, could tell from Dearne's behavior she knew Sidonie well and being already pretty tanked, looked fair set to renewing old ties; ones she could only guess at. Her brain began to struggle against the flooding tide of corrosive possibilities, surging into her mind. The drift of the talk began to make it clear they had been of an intimate nature. She sat rigid through their exchange, her face stony, an exploding jealousy rushing through her body, leaving a shaking weakness in its wake. Her thoughts continued to churn.
At last Sidonie found the opening she needed. The dinner
was
not winding down at all how she had pictured it. âDearne, your friends will be missing you and you wouldn't want them to leave without you.' Her intonation was emphatic.
Dearne stopped in mid-reminiscence. Looking across at her former table she saw several of the party standing up.
âOh, you're right as usual, Sugar. I'd best be off. So nice to have met you er ⦠well, yes.' She looked at Tenille then away again at her friends. As she stood, the cloth dragged on her thigh which caused Tenille's glass to topple. Fortunately there was not enough wine to reach the white dress, but the ensuing concern of those around, caused Tenille's cheeks to flame bright red. No embarrassment for Dearne it seemed. Her only contribution was to say vacuously: âSilly me,' as everyone else fussed to put things right. Finally, she took herself out of the confusion and Sidonie was able to heave a sigh of relief.
âSorry about that,' she apologized, floundering in waves of guilt, but there was no warmth in Tenille's: âNot a problem.'
“Damn that woman. Why did she have to come along and spoil things?”
she groaned. What to do? By now a fresh cloth was on the table and they were alone once more.
âLet's have one nightcap and then we'll be on our way. What do you say?' She did not want to leave with Dearne's voice ringing in their ears. Delaying their exit would be a smart move. Two Irish Coffees arrived. Sidonie would only taste hers; too much alcohol made her sleepy and tonight of all nights, she wanted to be on the ball.
Their former mood of closeness was hard to regain. Perhaps an explanation would clear up any misunderstandings? She launched into an account of that one-time fling with Dearne. Tenille listened in silence, her face controlled, purged of expression. By the end of the story, but really there wasn't much to tell, Sidonie felt she had been somewhat mollified, although the face didn't show its previous radiance. She could do no more; time would have to shorten the distance between them. Tenille was over-reacting anyway. Dearne was someone way in the past; a long time over and done with, despite how she had made it look tonight.
âShall we go?' she suggested, the voice coming out short and gruff.
Tenille smiled her agreement, feeling she'd been too touchy getting so upset; wanting to be close again.
âYes. It will be good to be out in the fresh air.'
They split the bill and Sidonie took it to the front desk, by the bar. There they saw Dearne and her group, all talking noisily around one of the high drinks tables. She spotted Sidonie at the cashier's and made an unsteady beeline to her side. By this time she was really flying high. Draping her arm over Sidonie's shoulder, she stood directly in front of her, her back against the counter and delivered in slurred syllables: âYou know ⦠you were the best. I never w..wanted you to go out of my life. Come b..back, Sid. You and I could r..really go places.' She bent her head down to rest on Sidonie's other shoulder. Gently, but firmly, she lifted Dearne's head and removed her arm. She didn't let it show that she was furious, but her eyes smouldered, dark with anger and frustration. This woman was ruining everything. She felt the rage grow inside; knew she had to check its fierce fury. She could snap and she didn't want to, not here, not now. Tenille's dismay was palpable at this uninhibited display of desire. Others around them stopped to watch the unfolding of this squalid little drama, intrigued as to its outcome.
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