Part 3

Elena

It took me several days to find the perfect venue for our little outing, there were a number of ‘do it yourself’ pottery places in town, but so many seemed like a bunch of amateurs trying to kill a few hours. I wanted something homey, quaint even, where Tamara could really tap back into something she loved, and with someone actually skilled in the art. I found what was essentially a studio, in a very small building several miles outside the city limits, a place called very simply ‘Sadie’s Studio.’ I arranged a private session in the late afternoon on a Friday that was scheduled for a couple of hours. I messaged Tamara with the details, including that we could catch a casual dinner after if she felt up to it.

Since an ‘art session’ is casual by nature, I opted for jeans and a yellow, conservative, off-the-shoulder top that hugged my body but not obscenely so. As long as I didn’t ruin my clothes with clay or paint, I would consider the evening a success. I really didn’t have any romantic illusions about Tamara at that point, I just enjoyed her company.

I pulled up to the tiny cottage, which was down a gravel driveway, which kicked a fair amount of dust as I arrived, the sound of pebbles also bouncing off the underside of my car. Tamara hadn’t arrived yet, making me a bit concerned that she had gotten cold feet and wouldn’t show up at all. Pushing the doubts from my mind, I stepped out of the car and felt the crunching of the ground beneath my feet as I came up to the door. The building was unimpressive, the screen door at the front was almost falling off the hinges, and there was peeling paint all around the exterior, making me regret choosing the spot. I opened the screen door and knocked loudly.

The wooden door jerked open, and a woman in her forties, whom I presumed was Sadie, appeared in my view. She was dressed in jeans as well, and a printed floral top, and already wearing a paint-stained smock. She smiled at me. “Elena is it?” she asked, in a soft tone.

I smiled and nodded. “Yes, plus a guest. She should be arriving any minute,” I replied, hoping it was still true.

“Come inside!” Sadie said in a delighted tone, pulling the door wide to allow me to enter.

“Wow!” I exclaimed as I got a better look at the place. It was immaculate, well-organized, and smelled fresh and clean. Supplies were located on the far wall, including pre-made pieces, and on the opposite wall were finished ceramics, in a dazzling array of sizes and colors. There were several tables that had been pushed against the far wall, with two pottery wheels and tables located in the center. It made me smile.

“Since I wasn’t totally sure what you girls had in mind to do, I set you up with the basics. You can ask me for anything else you need, especially since it’s just the two of you,” Sadie said with a smile. “Date night?”

I giggled loudly, maybe too loudly. “Nope, just friends,” I answered.

Sadie’s eyebrow went up and she smiled. “Well that’s how it all starts, you know,” she said with a wink.

In that second, my gaydar went off like a loud klaxon, which only surprised me because it hadn’t happened right away. I cleared my throat, feeling self-conscious. “Well, she is married and quite straight,” I said softly. I felt my face going a bit red.

Sadie laughed heartily. “Well, better tell your heart that then, I can see a glint in your eye. But you never know, right?”

As I nodded, I heard another car pulling up the gravel road and I breathed a sigh of relief, first because it ended the awkward conversation with Sadie, and second because it meant Tamara had decided not to chicken out. Sadie just smiled and went to the door to greet her.

Tamara made eye contact with me briefly before getting distracted by the trimmings of the studio itself. She let out an ecstatic giggle, hands up by her lips and doing an excited dance. To say she was enthralled would have been an understatement. I could feel the energy from her filling the room and it thrilled me that I was able to play some small part in helping her rediscover herself. Without warning, she threw her arms around me and pulled me into a bear hug, almost crushing me, planting a wet kiss on my cheek that I presumed was her way of saying thank you.

“Oof,” I said as she hugged me.

Tamara jumped back. “Sorry, got carried away,” she said, still giggling. “How did you find this place? It’s perfect!”

“Just got lucky, I guess,” I replied.

“C’mon over here, girls!” Sadie said cheerfully. “Let’s get you started!”

Tamara pulled a paint-laden smock over her head and sat down at the pottery wheel, rubbing her hands together like a child in a candy shop. She reached her right hand down into the five-gallon bucket and scooped a large clump of clay and formed it into a rough circle before turning on the motor. She moistened her hands in the water of the same bucket and began molding the wet clay with her fingers.

I was mesmerized as I watched her work the clay, flattening it, shaping it, bending it to her will, making it transform every couple of seconds, as if it was a living thing. The clay danced as she made it change once more, sliding a finger into the center, creating an opening, widening it. Tamara’s eyes never left the object she was creating, as if putting herself into it, injecting her own soul somehow. There was nothing sexual about watching her form the clay into a lonely vase, but it was intimate, personal, and private. And she was sharing it with me, gladly willingly. After a few minutes, she had shaped a lovely long vase with a wide mouth and ridges all up and down from the top to the base.

“There ya go, I made that for you,” Tamara said, reaching up to scratch her nose and leaving a glob of clay there.

I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed off the clay, almost unable to speak. “Thank you,” I murmured, adding a few seconds later, “that was absolutely incredible.”

Tamara smiled brightly, and drew in what I could tell was a happy breath. Her face was beaming, and I could tell she felt more alive than she had in a very, very long time. I thought I had been doing her a favor of some sort by reconnecting her with one of her passions, but in truth, she was doing me an even bigger favor. Even as a comparative stranger, she had willingly invited me into a deeply personal place and we both felt comfortable with that.

She nagged at me for a while to try something, but I was very self-conscious now that I had seen what she could do with ease. Eventually, I relented by starting with a smaller lump of clay, thinking I would be lucky if I could even manage to create a lopsided ashtray. I started the wheel, trying to make the clay into a circle the way I had seen her do, but I pushed too hard and the clump flew off the wheel and hit the floor. “Shit!” I exclaimed, face turning bright red.

“Now, now,” Tamara said maternally, pulling some more clay out of her bucket. She formed it a bit with the wheel off, presumably to make it even enough to stay in one spot. She looked me in the eyes. “Now don’t get any ideas, just trying to get you started here.”

I felt her gentle hands slide over the back of mine from behind, as she brought her stool directly to the rear of me. She kicked the switch on my own pottery wheel and guided my hands over the surface of the rotating clay. “Stop trying to force it, just let it all… flow… let your fingers…” she said, putting my fingers in the right position, working the clay, feeling it bend to my will, or Tamara’s will through me. “That’s it, see? You’re a natural,” she whispered. It was even more intimate now, but I guessed that she had no clue how much, nor how sexual this was feeling, fingers moving, bodies touching. Just about the time I thought I would lose my sanity, she pulled back and turned off the wheel. When I looked up, I saw a cute coffee mug with a wide brim.

“Wow,” I managed to say, my mind spinning and my heart beating out of my chest. After standing and taking a few deep breaths, I had managed to calm down enough to think clearly.

I didn’t attempt to make anything else but watched as Tamara made about six pieces, each more elaborate than the other. She had been right, this was her passion and she was crazy talented. Time flew by and before I knew it, our time there was done. Tamara said she would meet me at the restaurant, and I stayed behind to pay Sadie for the session. As I handed her my credit card she chuckled and shook her head.

“What?” I said, in an irritated tone.

“You know what,” Sadie said, in a singsong voice.

“We are just friends. And she is hella straight!”

“Not saying any of that isn’t true, love. But there is more at play here, I know with you for sure, but something with her, too. Just be careful. Could be a big heartache,” she said maternally.

Sadie’s words were echoing in my mind as I made the short drive to the Italian restaurant I had made reservations at. Honestly, it did worry me a bit. I tend to go all-in and it often resulted in some pretty deep hurt for me. But there was just something about Tamara that just captivated me, she had a genuineness about her that was compelling, plus I knew there was a lot more to her than what people saw on the surface. I resolved in that moment to protect my heart, and tread lightly. It was fun flirting with her, mostly just to see her reaction, but I couldn’t risk things crashing and burning.

Tamara was already at the table and looking at her makeup in a compact, the sight just made me want to smile. So I did. I stood several feet away just watching her, and then reminded myself to keep my emotional distance. Just then, she caught sight of me and smiled and waved at me, prompting me to come over and sit across from her. “Hey, girl!” I chirped.

“Hey there. Thank you again sooo much for arranging that studio time,” Tamara said, her voice still filled with excitement. “I haven’t felt so...alive...for as long as I can remember.”

I smiled as I placed the red cloth napkin in my lap and reached for the glass of water to take a quick sip. “Oh, the pleasure was mine, you are incredibly talented. I was pretty intimidated,” I said in a soft tone.

Tamara’s eyes widened, as if it was a shocking revelation of some sort. “No way!’ she exclaimed. “You are fearless, I can’t imagine you being intimidated by anything.”

“Hey, you want a glass of wine?” I asked, craving a good glass of red myself.

“Absolutely! I fancy a Malbec if that suits you,” she responded.

Shit, she picked out one of my favorites, this just was not fair. I waved the server over, a nice-looking twenty-something young man. “A bottle of a good Malbec, please?” I asked. He nodded, and within a few moments returned with a red-labeled bottle of a vineyard that I recognized and enjoyed. He removed the cork and then poured a glass for each of us before leaving to wait on someone else.

I raised my glass and said, “To rediscovering what we love!”

“Amen, sister!” she responded, clinking her glass eagerly, and taking a sip.

Our dinner conversation was as good as any other that we had had previously, I found out more about her family and background, only child, catholic girl, and a strict upbringing. Her maiden name was Edmonds, which I recognized as the family name of a prominent financial firm in the city. I knew her father’s reputation as aggressive and controlling, so I could see why she reacted to certain things the way that she did. Even her marriage to Alan Reynolds had been his design, which just cemented my viewpoint that the men in her life treated her more like an object than a person.

As the wine took effect, Tamara relaxed and started talking more freely than she ever had up to that point. “You know, your impression of Alan is spot on,” she confessed at one point, “he is a first-class asshole. My best days are the ones when he is off on some business trip.”

“Well, you deserve better than that. I...” I started to say, but stopped myself, knowing my next question would be far more invasive than anything I said at the coffee shop.

“What?” she asked, taking a sip of her second glass of Malbec. “Ask, I have already told you more than I have pretty much told anyone.”

I sighed, still hesitant. “It’s really not my place.”

Tamara got a mischievous look on her face, and then in a low whisper said, “Bullshit.” Then she giggled so much I thought it might upset the couple at the table opposite ours.

I found myself giggling now, though not quite as raucously as her. “Using my own words against me huh? Clever girl, but ooooh you are trouble!”

I watched the smile on her face fade and a soulful expression take its place. Damn, this was going to get serious. Tamara leaned forward so I could hear her without the ‘neighbors’ hearing. “Pretty sure you were going to ask if he hits me. Yeah, not like constantly, but enough,” she said in a low tone.

I already had strong suspicions about his abusiveness, given his macho personality and her reactions to things so far. “Once is more than enough. Too much. Far too much,” I said, fighting the conflicting emotions of anger at her husband and anger at her for tolerating it. I also knew Alan was a womanizer and had cheated on his wife long before I had ever met Tamara, but something told me she already knew that as well.

“Fair enough,” Tamara responded, “But something you may not know is that he’s been falsifying his sales records.”

Okay, that I did not know, but it sure as hell explained a lot of things, including the company-wide audit that was underway now. The rumors about financial misconduct had been circulating for some time, but old man Bessmer decided it was time to settle that once and for all. I was in shock. “Oh… wow,” I gasped, unable to say much of anything else.

Tamara sat her wine glass down slowly. “Yeah, I came across some notes in his desk, and since I know what the super-secret combination to his safe is, it was easy to figure out the rest. Reporting one already overblown number, and pocketing the rest. And smug about it too.”

I was speechless, The first thing I wanted to say was for her to report it for her own safety and well-being, but I choked on the words because my emotions were all over the place. Personally, I wanted to ask her to hand me over the proof and I would make sure the bastard got what he deserved, but she was afraid of him as it was. I managed to say, “Uh-huh,” but nothing else.

Just as I worried I had run out of words our dinner arrived and the conversation steered away from the heavy topics a few moments prior. We shared more conversations about likes and dislikes, and surprisingly enough, sex. Looking back, it was my fault, our server went off shift and was replaced by a sultry-looking young Latina girl and, after she walked off, I said, “Oh damn she is gorgeous, I would love to find out how she kisses.”

Tamara giggled, her cheeks pink. “Oh my, sounds like someone is a bit wound up. Been a while?” she said with a teasing tone.

“You have no idea, and I am pretty passionate, so that makes it even more frustrating,” I said, knowing my own inhibitions were lower than usual. I rationalized that it was just girl talk, but fascinated with how comfortable she seemed about the topic.

Tamara chewed a piece of the steak she had just taken a bite of and reached for her glass to sip a bit more wine. “I can relate. Being married doesn’t mean constant sex or even good sex,” she commented.

Well, now she had left the proverbial door wide open. I smiled, trying to filter my words so as not to embarrass her too badly. I cleared my throat a bit, lowered my voice, and asked, “And what does good sex look like to you, Tamara?”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, and then leaned forward a bit. “A soft touch… a kiss, great kisses even, unrushed, unhurried, soft well-placed caresses…”

I involuntarily licked my lips. “Oh, kissing is a must. Soft, deep sensual, long making out sessions with nothing but that… lips… making… love,” I said, studying her expression, watching her also lick her lips. It surprised me how she was reacting because I knew words were powerful, but I also assumed she was picturing a guy in her mind’s eye.

“Um. Yes,” Tamara rasped, her face flushed.

“Bodies touching… warmth of their skin on yours… just… lost in the sensations… in the moment… no rush…” I cooed, caught up in the dynamic but worried I might be pushing the envelope too much.

“Mmmhmmm,” she whispered.

“Making love… to… her body… and mind,” I added, knowing that would cross the line a little bit, forcing a different image in her mind even if for a second.

Tamara didn’t react either verbally or otherwise so I had no idea what she was actually thinking, but as fun as it was teasing her a bit, I thought better of saying anything else. “But anyway, let’s not get arrested tonight,” I added after a moment. Tamara laughed in response.

We parted ways about an hour after, but I was hopelessly aroused, in a way that toys or fingers would never satisfy. I am a hopeless romantic, but every now and then my own passions would get the best of me and in those moments I would rely on ex-girlfriends of friends with benefits to scratch that particular itch. Tonight, that friend was Lily, a petite blonde with a great body, who was more than happy to oblige my desires.

There was virtually no conversation once Lily came through the door. I pinned her to the wall, closed my eyes, and touched my lips to hers. Many of the times we had slept together had been intense and wild, but tonight I wanted something else, or rather someone else, though I would never admit that out loud.

My first kiss on her lips was soft and tentative, and in that moment Lily read my signals and what I wanted, and responded in kind. In that moment, she was a surrogate, my mind was elsewhere, on Tamara, on giving her the kind of pleasure she needed and deserved. I felt her lips respond to mine, like a dance, lips caressing lips, no tongue, just a slow deep sensual kiss. She deserved this. She needed this. And I was the one giving it to her.

I pressed my breasts into hers, and while still fully clothed, there was no way she could mistake the fact that the one kissing her was another woman, our bodies together, molding as if designed to fit together. I could feel Tamara’s nipples hardening, and I slipped my hand up to her face to stroke it gently as our lips continued their sexual massage. I wanted to savor her, for as long as it took. I could feel her trembling in my arms, surrendering more of herself with each passing moment, knowing that the point of no return for her had long since passed.

After a seeming eternity, I broke the kiss, nuzzling her cheek and then kissing down to her neck, that supple neck I had longed to taste since that first night we met. Tamara moaned as my lips touched her neck, and I nipped at the skin before making love to that spot in earnest. Yes, she was mine now, and nothing would stop what was to come. I purposely sucked on her skin, leaving red marks that would declare to the world that she belonged to me, switching spots frequently so that there were many red circles on the skin.

Unzipping her dress, I kissed my way down to the valley between her ample breasts, desperate to taste them, kiss them, and do the same thing I had done to her neck. She attempted to slip her bra off, but I pinned her hands behind her so the moment would not be rushed. I have a particular fondness for breasts, they are so uniquely feminine, and a favorite spot to touch, lick and kiss.

Once Tamara’s breasts were glistening with the moisture from my tongue, I unhooked her bra, playing with her nipples with my fingers, causing her to arch her back and gasp in a heavenly fashion. I heard her whisper, “Please.” In response, I began softly sucking on her breasts, letting my hand slide down her lace panties to find her bare and wet folds aching for my touch. My fingers began exploring her womanhood, eventually sliding a finger inside her, slowly moving in and out of her. I felt her body starting to shake from an impending orgasm, and stopped to prolong the moment, after which I stood up and led her to my bed.

This was the moment I had wanted most, that I had been longing for, her in my bed, me parting her legs and burying my face between them. I grasped her underneath her ass and began licking and sucking on her pussy, knowing that because of my earlier teasing that she would have her first climax very quickly. I felt her spasm and shudder, a powerful orgasm crashed into her, and I increased my oral attentions to make it last longer and better than any previous ones. I made her cum twice more before she begged me to stop, and I began grinding on her hip to bring my own climax to fruition. I pulled her body to mine in a beautiful post-sexual snuggle and eventually fell asleep with her.

Tamara

I felt both excitement and anxiety as I turned on the unpaved driveway to the address of the pottery place that Elena had arranged for me to meet her at. My concerns were not helped by the run-down appearance of the shack masquerading as a studio, and the discarded items littered about made me think of it as a redneck version of heaven. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. My stomach was doing flip-flops, and I considered driving off immediately but did not want to disappoint her. She had gone through the trouble of setting this whole thing up, and I owed it to her to at least check it out. I took a deep breath and pushed the door to enter the shop.

I glanced at the older woman that I assumed was the owner before looking at Elena and smiling at her as a sort of thank you. I held her gaze for a second before noticing the studio itself. To my utter amazement, It was glorious! Granted, it had been years since I had been in a room like that one, but it reminded me of the studios in my university days, containing just about every option imaginable to me.

I found myself overwhelmed with a flood of emotions that I had a hard time sorting out: joy, anxiety, euphoria, gratefulness, and several others. Letting the moment get the better of me and let out enthusiastic laughter, doing my “happy dance” and jumping up and down a bit. I threw my arms around Elena and almost knocked her over with the intensity. I felt her stiffen, bringing me to my senses, and making me let her go.

“Oops, sorry, got a bit carried away,” I said, the joy still evident in my voice.

“No worries,” Elena said with a smile.

“How did you find this place? It’s amazing!” I exclaimed, trying to calm down a bit.

Elena chuckled. “Just lucky, I guess,” she replied, smiling broadly.

At that point, the older lady, dressed in a paint-stained smock, stepped closer to me. “Hi sweetie, I’m Sadie! Come have a seat. I’ve set up everything for you.”

I looked over at the pottery wheels that Sadie had set up for the two of us, rubbing my hands together and sliding over the stool in front of the one I had chosen. I stood back up for a moment to adjust the stool a bit higher, and then sat back down again. Reaching into the red bucket next to me, I scooped up a big handful of clay and slapped it down on the steel, causing a slight splatter that landed on my smock. Right now, all that mattered was doing something I truly loved.

Taking a deep breath, I started up the wheel and brought a bit of the water from the bucket to further moisten the lump spinning on the plate-like surface. I felt a stupid grin spreading over my face as I let my fingers touch the slick surface of the clay, thrilled at the once-familiar sensation flooding my senses again.

I held my fingers on the sides of the wet clay, bending it to my will, making it become what I wanted, shaping it as I saw fit. For the first time in ages, I felt like the one in control, not a puppet with others pulling all my strings every hour of the day. It was exhilarating and liberating and made me feel like I had escaped all of the things that I detested. My clay was dancing with me, with my hands, with my intentions and I loved how that felt. I was oblivious to anything and anyone else in that moment, as I was shaping the raw material into something beautiful, a literal work of art. I also knew this was only the first part, because after being fired in the kiln, I would need to paint and glaze it.

I switched off the pottery wheel and looked up to see Elena with a look of wonder and amazement on her face. Feeling an itch on my nose, I reached up to scratch it, feeling the wetness of wet clay in response. I chuckled at my own clumsiness. “Ta-da!” I said, “There you are. I made this for you. One of a kind.”

Elena just stared for a moment. “Thank you. That… well that was absolutely incredible to watch,” she said, reaching up with a napkin to wipe off my nose.

“Of course!” I said, “but now it’s your turn.”

“No, no, I would rather watch, you are so gifted at that,” Elena said, standing with her arms crossed and shaking her head.

“Stubborn huh? That’s an argument I swear you will lose. C’mon, this is an experience I want to share not do all by myself. It’s like dancing, way more fun with someone else than all by your lonesome,” I said, a firm tone in my voice.

Elena sat down slowly, and pulled a small handful of clay in her hand, and set it down. It looked like a scoop of chocolate ice cream. “Well here goes,” she muttered.

The second I switched the pottery wheel on, the lump of clay launched off the platter like a rocket and splattered on the floor a few feet away. I watched Elena’s face go bright red. “Shit!” she scowled, instantly shutting the damned thing off.

I giggled so hard I almost snorted, but came over and stood next to Elena, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Then I reached down into her bucket the same way I had a short time ago, placed the clod on the pottery wheel, and kicked the switch to turn it on. “Now I am just helping you start out on this, don’t get any ideas,” I said with a laugh, standing behind her and reaching my arms around to cover her hands with mine. It felt like she was trembling, but I chalked it up to nerves on her part.

I guided her fingers on the sides of the clay, making it take shape slowly and almost rise up from the spinning platter. “See Elena? You are a complete natural at this!” I said softly, helping her maneuver the clay like I had earlier. It felt like a dance, and I was leading, though I wanted her to enjoy the experience too. It was endearing to see her so vulnerable, so much the opposite of the woman who confronted me days before. After a few more simple shaping moves, I placed her fingers in the middle of the pillar-shape to open up the inside of the clay, hearing Elena gasp as she watched it open up like a flower. Once done, I shut off the wheel and backed up, ignoring the strange things I felt at that moment.

“See? Once you get used to it, it’s pretty simple.” I said with a smile.

“Once again, wow,” Elena said. “Thank you!”

I could tell by her reaction that one piece of pottery was all I could get out of her, short of pissing her off. Content at that point to let her watch me, I created several more pieces, each more elaborate than the previous one, a long stem vase, a plate, a decorative bowl, and a few other items that I felt calling out from the clay, begging to be given form.

Elena was grinning at me as I got up, clapping as if I had given some impressive piano recital. “Well done!” she praised.

“Thank you, looks like our session is just about up, don’t wanna be late for dinner,” I said, washing my hands off in the sink and removing the soiled apron. “Meet you there?” I asked. Elena smiled and nodded as I dried off my hands and headed for the door.

I drew a deep breath as I started the car and pulled off the gravel road towards civilization, feeling invigorated. It was clear to me at that point just how much of myself I had given up to make other people happy - an abusive husband, an overbearing father, and impossible-to-please mother, and the toll it had taken on me. I felt an inner strength that had been dormant for a long time, and an inner voice that was telling, if not demanding, that things had to change.

There was a cool breeze blowing as I pushed the glass door open at the entrance of the Mi Amore restaurant, one I had never been to before, even though a long-time resident of the area. Fortunately, I was seated almost as quickly as I came through the door. I had to admit it was strange feeling so connected and close to a stranger, let alone a lesbian, but cherished it nonetheless. Wanting to look my best, I pulled out some light makeup and began freshening up, and then caught sight of Elena several feet away, smiling at me.

“Hey there, girly!” she said in a cheerful tone.

“Back at ya!” I said as she slid into the chair directly across from me. The table wasn’t huge, so I felt her leg graze mine as she settled in. I leaned in slightly, saying, “Thank you so much for arranging that whole ceramics session. Made me feel more alive than I can ever remember.”

Elena took a drink from the glass of ice water in front of her before saying anything else. “Oh trust me, it was delightful for me, you are incredibly talented. I was pretty intimidated by it all,” she said as if commenting on the weather or some matter-of-fact event.

Honestly, that statement shocked me, I had never once been described as intimidating by anyone, even on my bravest day! Surely she had to be kidding. I shook my head. “No way, you aren’t afraid of anything! I can’t imagine anything or anyone intimidating you!” I shot back.

Rather than respond to my statement, Elena diverted by switching the topic. “Hey, you want to split a bottle of wine?” she asked with a smile.

Damn, she was clever! “You bet! How about a Malbec?” I proposed, being one of my favorites.

Elena snapped her fingers to catch our server’s attention, and a nice-looking young man scurried over to her side. Leaning in, she said, “A bottle of this Malbec for us, please?”

A few minutes later, he was filling up both of our glasses, and I took a sip of it preemptively. A moment later, Elena raised her glass, which made me raise mine in response. Smiling, she toasted, “To rediscovering what we love!”

“Amen sister!” I said, clinking my glass to hers.

Our conversation went on from there, and Elena was so easy to talk to, I let my guard down, and revealed myself to her, my likes, dislikes, upbringing, and even embarrassing stories. The tougher part of the conversation was about my father and his need to control everything and my mother who just went along with anything he wanted, even in regards to me. I had never fancied Alan, but he was a young hotshot and came from money so he was the favorite in my father’s eyes. He had been sweet and romantic during our dating life, but that changed almost instantly after saying, ‘I do.’

The wine was having a nice effect on me and I felt even more comfortable opening up to her. I knew she disliked Alan, hell a lot of people flat out despised him. “You know, “ I began in a mellow tone, “Your impression of him is right… spot-on in fact. I tell myself he is the king of assholes. The best times of my life are when he is away on business, or whatever.”

Elena seemed to be studying me, her facial expression was relaxed but pensive. She waited a few seconds, as if thinking something through, and finally said, “Well, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that, hun.”

Elena could hide her emotions to some degree, but I saw a disapproving glance, probably not directed at me but at my not-so-loving husband. I was well into my second glass of wine and while not truly tipsy, I was quite relaxed. “I can see on your face that you want to ask. Go ahead, I have pretty much bared my soul to you already.”

She pursed her lips and paused a moment, and then shook her head. “Not getting into that, it’s not my place to say anything, really,” she said, with a tone that didn’t convince me.

I grinned. Now it was my turn to call her bluff! I leaned in a bit and softly replied, bullshit.” I burst into laughter, unable to keep any restraint on my joy at that moment. I just hoped I didn’t get us kicked out of the restaurant!

Elena’s face lit and she let out a hearty laugh in response. I could tell my response tickled her. “Using my words against me? Very clever, hun. You are trouble for sure!” she shot back.

There was something about her that really set me at ease, that made it so effortless to let her into my private world without feeling like I had to hide anything. I am sure the wine helped with that feeling of trust, but it was so much more than that. This was someone I could truly be good friends with, and I felt the need to answer a question I knew was on her mind. I steeled myself a bit and leaned forward so I could keep my dark admission private. “I bet you were going to ask me if he has ever hit me,” I said, then adding, “Yes, often. Not all the time… but… enough.” As comfortable as I felt telling her that, I resolved not to say anything about the scar from the vase and the incident that surrounded it.

Elena was unfazed, confirming that she had pretty much figured that out anyway. Was I really that transparent? Still, there was a fierceness in her expression, a quiet outrage that reassured me that the blame didn’t lie with me. “One time is once too many. Way, way too many. No excuse for that,” she answered, in a very firm tone of voice.

In that moment I felt not only vindicated, but like I had permission to be legitimately pissed off about it. I knew Elena worked with Alan, and right then all I wanted to do was hurt him. If there was any benefit to playing the role of wallflower wife, it was that I had a treasure trove of dirt on him that he had no idea I knew. “Good point… however, what you probably don’t know is that he forged just about all of those so-called amazing sales records,” I said dryly.

Elena’s eyes went wide in an instant. Wow, so I finally said something that surprised her. I must be getting better at this. I simply nodded to verify what I had just said.

“Oh… damn… wow,” she said.

“Yep,” I affirmed, adding, “I came across notes and a ledger in the safe that he thinks is super secure. But I am smarter than he is.”

I figured my last confession was a bit over the top, and we both went quiet for a minute or two, trying to figure out what to say next. We talked more after the awkwardness wore off, and lost track of time. Around then, a very pretty young girl came over to the table, she looked Hispanic, with long dark hair and eyes and a great smile.

“Hi, I’m Carmella,” she said, impressively rolling the r in her name.

“Hi!” Elena and I amusingly said almost in unison.

Carmella flashed a bright smile in response. “Jeremy, your server, just clocked out for the night, so I’ll be taking over for him. Can I get you anything? More wine?”

I laughed. “Would be nice, but I have to be able to walk out of here, plus drive home,” I said.

“Well just let me know if you need anything,” Carmella said, turning and walking away.

Elena got a devilish grin on her face as she watched the girl walk away to another table. “Wow, she is fucking sexy. Would love to know what those lips taste like,” she said, loud enough for me to hear but not anyone else.

The remark surprised me and I blushed openly. It was the first thing she had said to me that was openly sexual and I tried to think up something clever to say to hide my embarrassment. “Wow, someone is pretty wound up. Sounds like maybe it’s been a while… since… ya know?” I stammered.

Elena’s eyes flashed and she smiled at me, reaching out and patting my hand for a moment before pulling back. “Oh, you have no idea, sweetie. I am very passionate so that just makes matters a whole lot worse.”

Ah, so single life was no picnic either. I finished a bit of the food I had been eating and washed it down with a bit of the red wine still in my half-full glass. “I can relate,” I answered, adding, “being married doesn’t guarantee regular sex, or even good sex.”

Elena’s eyes brightened, as if I had just given her a prize that she won in a raffle. “Ohhh, and what does good sex look like to you, Tamara? Hmmm?” she said, quietly but with a delighted tone in her voice.

While I had left myself open to such a question, I had to think for a second, because I had seldom been asked about anything I liked, let alone something so deeply personal. I cleared my throat and forced the words out, almost in a whisper. “A… gentle touch, a kiss, no wait, a great kiss, more than one, of course, caresses the right way in the right spots…”

Elena chimed in as my voice trailed off. “Oh yes, kissing absolutely essential,” she said softly.

I nodded, my eyes drawn to her lips, her earlier words echoing in my mind. ‘I wonder what those lips taste like.’ For a second, it was like they were my words as I watched her lips move, and then I pushed the thoughts and feelings as deep as I could.

Elena continued her sensual commentary, adding, “Soft and sensual, deep making out sessions, like… lips making love.”

I licked my lips, letting my mind wander to a good-looking guy friend from years past, feeling his lips on mine. I felt my body reacting, but it was all in my private world so I didn’t care. The sensation was electric and so right. “Yes,” I replied softly, smiling.

“Mmm bodies together… skin touching, lost in the feeling… unhurried.” she said, clearly enjoying the teasing.

My lips were dry and slightly parted. I was turned on by her words, but I didn’t care, it made me feel so alive. I was able to at least make the sound, “Mmmhmmm, yes,” in response. I could feel intense heat between my legs and the wetness accompanying it. It felt nice.

“Making love… to her body and mind,” she said, her eyes locked with mine.

The female pronoun didn’t register immediately, but my subconscious grasped it before my conscious mind did. The mental image changed, the guy was gone, and my lips were locked with another woman, it wasn’t clear to me who, but the implication was clear, the other person was female, making out in my mind. For a moment, I let the image remain, strangely finding the picture beautiful and innately sensual. I broke my concentration and pushed the image from my mind, and for another brief second the image of Elena in my dream pushed into my mind. I felt a little confused for a moment but then came back to my senses, making no response to her.

Elena giggled and then glanced around, aware that some of the conversation wasn’t exactly appropriate for the setting. “Buuut, I don't want to get us arrested tonight.”

I laughed nervously in response. “All in good fun, right?”

A little while later, we hugged goodbye and I drove home in the dark, some rain pelting the windshield as I went along the highway. My thoughts were all over the place, as were my feelings about it all. I blamed the wine and how long it had been since I had any decent intimate contact. Elena liked women and that was just fine, she could flirt with the waitress and anyone else she fancied and even sleep with them if she wanted. But that wasn’t me. I had never felt any attraction to women in my life, and that wasn’t going to change now.