She texted me one afternoon with a date and time. I got briefly excited, thinking it might be an invite to her Thursday night new-restaurant thing. But it was a Friday.
-Next self-defense class. Doing a two-parter. Friday and Saturday. Want me to sign you up? If you were serious about it?
I had been serious. Self-defense courses seemed necessary but made me nervous. I didn’t like thinking about being in a situation where I’d have to know how to punch. Or kick. Or stab. Or whatever she did. I wouldn’t have to be nervous if she were there though. She was serious but I knew she’d make it fun. She wouldn’t yell at us or tell us we were stupid if we didn’t pay attention while walking after dark.
-Yes! I sent back
-Excellent. Pick you up at six on Friday, then?
I kicked up my heels sitting at my desk, giddy.
-Yes!
She was as good as her word, coming to pick me up a little before six on Friday. I’d rushed home to change out of work clothes. Sad that I was going to see her in workout clothes for the millionth time. Hoping I’d get to show her what I actually looked like dolled up and done right at some point.
She was playing her music loudly. Driving fast but competently. Not like me. I leaned over the wheel like an old lady and apologized into the silence of my car for the entire duration of any trip I took.
It wasn’t far, just a gym space on the north side of the city. We talked about the end of work and the class a little. She said it was small this time, just another twelve or so sign-ups, not counting me.
We got in and a lot of the women already seemed to know her– maybe eight of them. I was instantly jealous over every high-five and hug. Feeling childish and unable to stop myself from that.
We started with stretches and such. And we were going to pair up and I got nervous again. Everyone seemed looser and more ready for fun than me. And we were an odd number and most of the women had come with a friend. I didn’t want to be some third wheel. And I still wondered if I’d suddenly panic if someone else, even in play, pretended to attack me.
“Bea?” Dinah called, gesturing me up.
I walked over slowly.
“Bea’s good for proving efficacy because Bea is a pipsqueak,” Dinah said.
Everyone laughed but not meanly. I was at least the shortest woman here, if not the smallest. So I’d get to be the example.
It wasn’t bad at all. Learning how to twist out of holds, vulnerable parts of the human body. It wasn’t scary to be held in her grip. Surprised by how strong she was again though. Even just in the control she had in her hands.
The only major issue was that I was distracted. Yes, we touched a bunch now but this was practically an embrace. And she’d hold me while she was explaining something. I had my arm twisted back behind me for a few minutes while she spoke about the different options to get out of such a hold. Just kind of noticing her solid and unmoving hand on my wrist and my elbow. Relaxed but firmly on me. And when she had me up in tighter locks, cat-like, I just wanted to slither deeper into it.
The class ended but the conversation didn’t. Of course, everyone wanted one more word with her. I did too. I couldn’t fault them for that. When we finally started draining out (lights suddenly being turned off over our heads to scattered boos and laughter) I got to follow her out.
“Dinner before I drop you off? Well, late dinner?” she asked after we pulled out of the parking garage.
“Yes please!” I said, thrilled to be asked.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Um…” My brain started juggling possibilities– I knew I was less familiar with places to eat than her. I knew what she liked. We were sweaty and in leggings though so no place fancy. I didn’t like bar scenes much, not after working in one for years.
“Oh, you’re going to think it’s trashy as hell, but actually I know a place,” she said, laughing, pulling onto the highway.
We ended up at a truck stop kind of place. All chrome and neon and fryers. The music that played was on a radio on the counter, not through overhead speakers. It was quiet except for a group of possibly pre-gaming students, two truckers, and one romantic couple that seemed on the verge of a breakup.
We sat up at the counter. She ordered me hot tea before I even opened my mouth, a vanilla shake for herself.
“You can have a sip too,” she said, grinning at me.
She knew it had been years since I had ice cream.
It was one of those million-page menus. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner options all day. We both got the same disgusting and delicious-sounding breakfast sandwich and home fries to go with it.
The shake came, with the aluminum mixing cup, plus the glass with whipped cream and sprinkles. She pushed it toward me for the first sip. I was about to put my hand up and say ‘Thanks but no thanks’ but she shoved it harder.
It was so good and I said so.
“Yeah, they do ‘em good here,” she said.
We ate and talked about the class. I told her I was impressed, which I was, and that I hadn’t been made scared once, which was also true. She laughed.
“Just bite the bad guys with your pointy little teeth and book it, Pipsqueak. I’ve seen you run and you can probably outrun anyone,” she said.
Knowing that meant she’d probably seen my frenetic and flat-out sprints on the treadmill before. She yawned as we finished dinner and I knew I was keeping her up too late. We struggled over the bill, but she finally let me pay.
“Next time,” she said, play-threateningly.
“Okay,” I agreed, just happy there would be a next time.
She dropped me off and offered to pick me up again tomorrow. Part two started at one in the afternoon.
I took a shower. Still sort of feeling her on me. Her hands on my wrists, her arms on mine. Particularly the sensation when she’d socked her knee into the back of mine. To show me how to lift and drop my heel onto an attacker’s foot. The only other time I’d felt someone’s leg so in line with mine was being spooned. Trying to rinse off the tingle still present on my skin.
I woke up to a barrage of three songs from her; pump up jams she said. I laughed, listening while I ate breakfast, and jumped into another set of leggings. I had so many dumb “cute” gym outfits. Lots of leg warmers and pink and cut-off sweatshirts. Wishing I had her confidence to just wear rolled-over sweatpants, random tanks, and sweatshirts. Why did I bother always being matchy-matchy? Who was I dressing for anyway? Why was everything a performance all the time?
I was waiting on my stoop for her, a water bottle dangling from my fingers. Hopping into the passenger seat and starting to talk about the songs she sent in the morning. Both of us chattering the way we did when we were together. Discussing where we might get a late lunch afterward.
She said she’d had a bit of a rush in the morning. Sleeping in and getting a late start. I could tell because her hair was still down, in the braid she must have slept in. We managed to beat the other students, at least by a few minutes. I sat watching her unbraid and then wrapped her hair back up while I helped by setting out mats.
She used me again as her partner. But today was more about actually striking and less about touching. I was at once relieved and disappointed. Falling further into a pit of love when she patted my cheek about three-quarters of the way through the class.
“Hey, good work, you’re okay,” she said.
Maybe sensing some tension in my limbs or seeing it in my face, even when I didn’t know it was there. It instantly soothed, and I relaxed, shaking out my shoulders, and letting my neck go loose. I had been holding myself tight– maybe because I was at the front of the class. Maybe because of the fake-violence. But between her contact and her words, I was quite suddenly smoothed out.
When the class broke up someone suggested all of us going across the way to a casual bistro place. I wriggled my nose, upset that my “date” lunch was quite suddenly going to be crashed by all the other students. It wasn’t bad– I couldn’t quite recall the last time I was in a crowd of other women like this. Perhaps the last time I’d been at a baby shower. Everyone was nice, and even though they’d all mostly come in friend groups or pairs they weren’t exclusionary. We sat outside on the porch, fanned the class-sweat off and had a leisurely lunch. I wasn’t sitting next to Dinah but across from her. She had light skin that went blood-red across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose when she heated. While I poured sweat she was genuinely just a woman who glowed.
We seemed to be the only women in the group who didn’t have children. A few others were single like us, but only one was unhappy about it. I liked how content Dinah at least appeared to be. I knew she was lonely, just like she knew I was lonely. We talked in circular ways about children but didn’t seem to be pursuing it in any way, nor even making it a part of our plans.
Even outside the classroom and gym setting she did the leadership thing. Answering for the table, being the one nearly all conversation seemed to be directed at. She wore this responsibility easily. She barely had to raise her voice. I felt like every phone call I made I had to holler so much that I lost my voice. I didn’t think she’d ever have that problem.
Once lunch was over we took our time getting back to the garage. Over-full, swinging our arms, enjoying Saturday sunshine. She took me back home. My hand on the door handle I stopped.
“Hey, come upstairs,” I said. “I have some books for you to borrow and you can fill up your water and stuff before you go home.”
The offer of books wasn’t insincere; I had a few on my coffee table I was intending to bring to work for her on Monday.
“Yeah, all right,” she agreed, parking up on the curb outside.
My house wasn’t a mess but it did look as though a fourteen-year-old who was suddenly given a house without value had decorated it. But she’d see it one way or another eventually so I might as well break the seal today, I thought.
We stomped up the stairs, still talking. Unerringly she went into my kitchen first, filling up her water bottle, and glancing around a little. Refrigerator covered in magnets, walls covered in prints, and floors with cartoon rugs and pillows and socks scattered everywhere. Seemingly undeterred by it she grabbed a handful of ice out of my freezer and started crunching it. I loved how she crunched ice. I knew her favorite was the little round kind you’d find in slushies and sometimes I would get her some on Fridays on my way to work by stopping at a nearby gas station.
I handed her the books one by one, explaining as I went. Apologizing and excusing authors, saying which one to read first, and why she needed to read one at all.
Tucking them against her hip she headed back toward my front door.
“Hey,” she said. Cheeks suddenly flushed again, like they had been this morning. Then she pinched her nose in her pointer and thumb, hiding her mouth, chuckling a little. She did that when she thought she was being nosey or giving too much information. Sort of hiding her face and giving herself space to not say something.
“Yeah?” I asked, stepping through the doorway to get closer.
“So… Um… This is like so not–” she said, still not dropping her hand.
“Hey, it’s just us,” I said, heart hammering.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked. I could watch her wanting to reel back the question. Literally fell back onto her back foot, her hand swinging back behind her to grab the doorknob.
“I do!” I said, too-loud and letting the words tumble out too fast in my excitement.
“I’m not really sure how to go about this since I–” she began saying again and I cut her off again. Closing the distance between us and grabbing her free hand.
“Me neither,” I said. “I don’t care though.”
I reached up, doing what I’d been subconsciously thinking about for weeks. Fingers behind her ear, tangling into her hair, thumb resting on her ear. Tilting her face down to mine and getting up on my toes. The first one was nervous, lips sort of fluttering on each other, faces twitching, exhaling through our noses. After a breath though we went in for a second one and this lasted. Gentler, having figured it out, slid a little closer. She broke it, stepping back, barking herself on my doorknob.
“Thanks,” I said hoarsely.
“We’ll have to discuss this,” she said. But nicely, if a little breathlessly.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed. “And we will. We don’t have to now.”
“We can’t right now. I’m illegally parked,” she said. Now she smiled again. I laughed, somewhat hysterically. Once she left, closing the door softly behind her I fell to the floor. Quite literally slumping down and laying out on my back. Kicking my sneakers off eventually. Resting the pointer finger of my left hand on my bottom lip. I didn’t want to use my right because that had touched her face and I wasn’t done feeling that yet. Like she’d imparted some of her essential warmth to me.
We texted a storm late that evening. I lay in my bathtub, sloshing around until it went cold while we did. Finishing a glass of tea and a can of seltzer. Going pruney everywhere pretty much. The content of the conversation became a hazy sort of blur for me. We both agreed we had no idea what we were doing. We both agreed to total surprise at the situation we found ourselves in. We both agreed we weren’t upset by it. That we’d have to communicate. But why not see what happened?
It wasn’t weird seeing her Monday to work out. It was kind of just as it had been. And had always been. The only nod to the weekend was that she put on my ‘Horny’ playlist again. We exchanged a glance when she did, both of us looking away and giggling afterward. But the workout itself was the usual.
We’d gotten there a little early. Not that this gym was ever packed– usually it was just between five and ten of us in the morning. Lunchtime was a nightmare, as was after five PM but there weren’t many early users. Today we were the only women there.
When we went into the locker room I stripped off my sweatshirt and jokingly flexed for her. Imagined or not, I thought there had been gains from switching up the kind of exercise I was doing. Circling my upper arm she squeezed.
“So strong, Pipsqueak,” she said.
I wanted to kiss her again. I snapped my elbow closed on her hand still on my arm, trying to catch her up in a hold like she had me during the self-defense course. But she slid out easily. But then she let her fingers slide down my arm and take my hand again. I wondered when she’d stop making my heart try to leap from my chest. We both moved forward toward the changing space and showers. Going into the same changing room, her holding a finger up in a ‘shush’, giggling a little.
We got undressed together. Momentarily I thought of doing it with my back to her out of shyness but I desperately wanted to see her so I didn’t. She did so easily and confidently like she stripped in front of people all the time. I did so hesitantly, trying to be neat or sexy or something.
Patting my cheek just like she had in class. So I reached up and kissed her again. We didn’t stop for a long while this time. Not touching, just going deeper and deeper until our breath was lost. She broke again, tipping her head to the showers. Those were smaller– those were just a closet with a faucet in them. She flicked on the water. Throwing a hand out to stop me from going in, her free palm under the spray to judge temperature. She nodded and stepped in, reaching back for me. Now we pretty much had to stand right together so we did. Still kissing, finally touching. Running my hands over whatever part of her I could. I’d been so worried I’d be comparing. Her firmness or length or lovely skin against mine but I didn’t. I got to just be lost in her. I’d never had that before. Always worried about how I looked or sounded if my partner was feeling good with me. With her, it was just an utterly blank desire.
I reached around her to turn off the water, knowing we were probably both already late. Gasping when she slid her slick knee between mine.
“I should probably come over tonight, huh?” she asked, mouth against my ear.
“I think so. Definitely. Yes,” I said.
“Good,” she sighed.
I stepped out first, making a surreptitious peek around the area to make sure no one had joined us since we first got in. Seeing and hearing no one else I waved her out. Handed her a towel, watching her briskly scrub her face and hair dry.
“I’ll come grab you later… Who’s here later? You or me? I have an appointment from four until five,” she said. Suddenly businesslike again.
“Mmm… Meeting at half past… Should be done by quarter after five though,” I said, trying to match her nonchalance.
“Good,” she said briskly, stepping into her shoes. “I’ll meet you down in the garage.”
“Mmm, ahuh,” I said, still staring at her, a wand of mascara paused a foot from my face.
Work was impossible to focus on knowing I had a date tonight. Or something like a date. Or maybe that discussion we’d talked about. Wondering what I could make her for dinner, what I had in the house.
She was waiting for me as I got off the elevator. Looking pressed and perfect and at-ease. Like all her clothes were made for her and wherever she was was a domain that belonged to her. I reached out and took her hand and then helplessly laughed when she looked around nervously. She laughed too, gripping me harder.
“I know,” she said, still giggling. “It feels… It feels new.” Clearly trying and discarding other words– maybe funny or odd or dangerous and settling on ‘new’ instead.
We drove back to my house. Conversation for the first time had more of a stutter-start-end-begin-again rhythm than we’d ever had before. Not awkward, merely excitable. Finally, she turned up the radio loud and we rolled down the windows.
Getting inside we kicked off our shoes and I was about to do the ‘tea? Water? Dinner?’ thing at her when she stopped me. Locking up my shoulders, holding my back to her front. I went still and then melted into it.
“Right, that,” she said. “That’s what made me think to ask if you wanted to kiss me– that fall-into me you were doing.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I said, hooking my hips up and back into hers, reaching my fingers out behind myself, trying to touch her chin and lips. I knew I’d gotten her when she kissed the tips of my fingers.
“And I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you. Well… One morning when you were rowing,” I said. “I might not have known precisely what the urge was but I wanted to get my mouth on you.”
She shifted the hold a little– tighter, not uncomfortable, just so that my arms were more caught.
“I’m glad you came over… I never would have approached your jackrabbit self,” she said. Suddenly walking us forward, into my living space. I went willingly, breath speeding up.
“Was this what you liked best, during class?” she asked, once we were standing beside my couch.
“It was close… Was it yours?” I asked.
“I liked how you went limp, but rolled your ass into me,” she said. Not giggling anymore, very serious. “Then what was the best?”
I cleared my throat and wiggled, letting her know to let me go. She did, I dropped my arm, holding it behind my back, wrist to my opposite hip. When she’d bullied me, holding my wrist and twisting my arm behind my back. She did it again, but two-handed this time. One on my upper arm, one on my wrist. Holding me just to the point of strain, if not pain.
“I touched myself over this,” I said, trying to look over my own shoulder at her. She inhaled some little surprised sound.
“This?” she asked, pulling my wrist a little harder. It made me bend forward a bit, trying to relieve the strain in my shoulder.
“Ahuh,” I agreed.
She turned me to face her quite suddenly, catching up both my wrists, and lifting them over my head. I tipped my chin up, expecting a kiss. Marginally disappointed when I didn’t get it.
“I never would have talked to you,” she said.
“Oh?’ I asked.
“No. Women like you scare me,” she said.
I laughed. Confusingly turned on with my arms tight over my head, but also astounded by what she said.
“I scare you?” I said, still laughing breathlessly. Leaning into her and trying to get more contact.
“You’re cute. I mean… You’re beautiful too. But you always just look right and you have that little voice and everyone seems to like you and you’re so good with strangers and just walking up to people and starting conversations. You always look like you know where you’re going, your nails are always the right color, you look like you wear hundred-dollar lotion and you’re just– everything that intimidates me.”
I laughed again but kissed her neck. I didn’t really want to talk any more.
“When I think of you,” I said, kissing between each sound almost because I always wanted my mouth on her. “All I ever think is just… queen… royalty.”
Shocking me she tumbled us down onto the couch, landing on me. Still holding my hands above my head, slotting her knee between mine. Shifting my wrists into one hand she reached between us, lifting my tight skirt up my hips. Instantly aroused to be pressed into her leg like that. Wishing I could ride it like an animal. Brought right back to the level of desire I’d been feeling in the shower earlier.
With her free hand, she locked her fingers at my hip, easing me up and down on her leg.
“Like that,” she directed. I moaned and did as directed, trying to get myself off through my underwear.
She pushed up my shirt, unhooked my front closure bra, and dropped her mouth to my nipple. Moaning herself against my skin. After a few minutes of this, I knew, embarrassingly, I was going to come on her leg if she didn’t stop.
“Wait,” I panted. Curling her tongue against me briefly and then stopping everything.
“What?” she asked.
“I’d like to give you more… If you’re comfortable with more, I’d really like to,” I said.
Kissing my breastbone she nodded.
I wriggled underneath her, getting myself the rest of the way undressed. She shifted to her side, allowing me to get up. I tossed my clothes willy-nilly to the rug and started undoing her clothes. She just let me, watching me do it. Unbuttoning her shirt and getting rid of her undershirt, and eventually her pants and underwear too. Those I set aside more neatly.
I loved getting to slide back down her, resting my palms on her stomach, and feeling her skin tremble under my palms.
Slightly concerned, but mostly curious, pressing my tongue between her legs. Her hips jerked upward. I held her at the waist, waiting for her to settle and her breath to slow a little. She tasted good but even better to just have her under my hand. Listening to her enjoy herself. Liking to get to all those secret little places on her. I would have grinned fiercely if I wasn’t so focused on work when her hands went to my hair, holding me in place. Thighs suddenly crushed my head, the backs of my earrings stabbing behind the lobes of my ears as she did. Lifting herself wildly into my mouth.
I liked how she melted into me, honey pouring across my tongue. Surprised by the soft and wounded sound she made when she came. I didn’t expect it and it made me say I love you right into her skin.
I slithered back up her torso, liking our similarly slick skin as I lay down next to her. Listening to her deep breath and fell harder for her when she pressed her face into my chest, heaving a comfortable sounding sigh.
I kissed her forehead, pulling down her bun. I had my thumbs at her temples, brushing her hair back repeatedly from her face, digging and rapidly releasing my fingers at her scalp worried about hurting her in my excitement or pulling her hair. Because I’d been thinking about this. Staring at her long hair. When it was up in a bun wondering how long it was. How heavy it would be on the palm of my hand. She had none of my coarseness, none of the static wildness. Just silk and warmth and perfume.
I wanted to hold her. I wanted to give her the gentle touch she’d missed out on. Wanted to pour over her the soft words she needed. I didn’t want her to beg for it. I didn’t even want her to ask for it. I just wanted to give and give until she said “I’m full.” I wanted to love her until she said “I have enough– I feel loved.”
“Will you show me?” she asked.
“What, darling?” I asked, feeling both tender and aroused.
“How you touched yourself, Pipsqueak, after class,” she said.
That made me gasp, and shift.
“Show me how to do you,” she said.
I did, face flaming. Somehow forgetting the natural thing I’d been doing for literal decades for a moment. Finding a rhythm. When I did I felt her hand over mine. Taking over. Touching me just right. A little softer than I did. More exploratory.
“I love touching you,” she whispered. “Every part of you feels so good in my hand.”
I started keening, lifting just like she lifted almost. Seeming to sense I was on the apex but unable to go further she gently slid a finger inside of me. I grabbed her free wrist, draping her hand over my mouth. She understood, clamping down on my mouth with alacrity, her own breath getting faster still.
I came crying into her hand, shaking wildly.
She let me go, rocking my face into her chest this time. Letting our sweat mingle.
“You sound so wild when you come,” she said, laughing gently.
“And you don’t,” I said.
“I’d like to keep hearing it,” she said, quieter still after several minutes of us laying in silence, catching our breath.
“I could hear it again right now, from you,” I said.
“Oh, give me a break, Pipsqueak,” she laughed, pinching me. “But we’ll have more. Of that I’m sure.”
*****