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sleeping space. The space underneath her bedroom was her office/computer space. Her bedroom was completely open and included a large, walk-in closet and a small bathroom. The shower and other bathroom were downstairs on the main level. In the farthest corner from her main entry door sat a hot tub on a small riser platform, the corners being windows, floor to ceiling with drawable drapery now pulled to the sides, letting daylight into the room. She had plenty of floor to ceiling windows and her place was flooded with what sunlight there was on this cold, wintery day.
"What can I do to help with dinner," I asked as I followed into her kitchen area. "You can open and pour us some wine, if youd like," she said, "Ive prepared everything already and all I have to do is let the oven do the work." And so I did as asked, while she busied herself doing her thing with dinner. Both of our chores done, she toasted me with a clink of our glasses, and we headed for the conversation pit/living room/TV room area of her loft.
She stopped at a curio cabinet and opening a bottom drawer, she brought out a handsomely carved wooden box, bringing it with her to join me on the couch. As we chatted, comfortably by this point I might add, she nimbly cleaned and rolled a fat joint. Finished with that one, she began a smaller joint explaining that the big boy was for after dinner, the small one she said, lighting it and taking a hit, was for now, handing it to me.
Savoring its pungy taste and odor as I drew it deep into my lungs, all I could say as I handed it back to her was "Wow!" She smiled, and nodded her acceptance of my compliment of her herb.
We sipped wine, finished the wee boy, the combination of wine and herb, mellowing us very nicely, thank you very fucking much. The oven dinged, we set the table and enjoyed a leisurely dinner, filling but not too much so. I ignored her protests and helped her clean away our dishes and such, and in a half-hour or so, we were done, the dishwasher turned on and put to work now.
Night had fallen and from her top-floor loft we looked upon the city lights, bright and numerous below us. There were taller buildings in the city, of course, but not near her loft; her building was the tallest around for several blocks by a couple of stories. The view was spectacular and mesmerizing and I told her so.
"Thanks, it wasnt cheap, but Im worth it," mockingly, and leaning into me for support. I leaned back, finding the feel of her breast against my arm, I dont know, comforting?
Her arm came around my shoulder, holding me to her. I stiffened for a millisecond but her breast pressing hard against my arm helped me relax. I dont know why. Right about then, my head was so full
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of conflicting signals, that Im not sure I could have told anyone my name.
It was a womans breast that was exciting you.
But, Im not queer.
You masturbated thinking of her freckled cleavage.
But, Ive masturbated thinking about Ken and Barbie fucking.
You masturbated thinking of her freckled cleavage, for fucking sake!
I did, didnt I?
"Brie, Id better go while I still can," I said, but did not feel.
"Oh no missy," Brie said, "you have to help me finish that fat boy I rolled."
"Brie, if I smoke anymore, on top of the wine, I definitely wont be in shape to drive," I said, wishing it werent so.
"You dont have to go, you know, you can spend the night," She said to me, still hugging me softly to her, our breathing suddenly in synch. "I frequently entertain overnight guests. We can make accommodations," She said, softly.
My stomach was doing flip-flops.
Why?
You know why.
No, why?
Because your sister thinks youre a fucking lesbo.
It was one fucking time and we were fucking drunk and my sister doesnt know about it anyway!
"Are you sure?"
"Im very sure, Lynn" Brie said, "Now lets relax and fire up Mr. Big."
"Definitely not my last beau," laughing, which caused Brie to laugh with me, her other arm wrapping around me, holding me, so I wouldnt fall to the floor.
And then she kissed me. I didnt move back. I didnt close my eyes. And when she pulled back to gauge my reaction, I smiled. I fucking smiled like an idiot. Walking away from me towards the couch, she said, "Youve got soft lips, very soft lips, Lynn."
"Thanks? I think?" I said a bit confused by my own feelings. She laughed good-naturedly and patted a spot on the couch next to her as she picked up the fat joint, lighting it and passing it to me. I handed it back and before she took her turn, she asked if Id like for her to shotgun me.
Sure.
She took a hit, putting the doob in the ashtray, and placed her hands on the side of my head, drawing me to her. Her lips were on mine, my mouth opening enough for her to slowly blow the smoke into my mouth. Still holding my face in her hands, the shotgun evolved into a kiss, what little smoke there was left, drifted from our lips as the kiss intensified. My mouth was enjoying what it was feeling, a familiar warmth growing in my crotch.
It took only the slightest pressure from her for me to lean into the back of the couch, the soft leather sinking slowly beneath our weight. I felt her hand lightly on my breast over my sweater, my nipples beginning to stir.
Pulling away, her fingers moved my hair from my eyes, she said, "Mmmm, but that felt nice, at least to me."
"Me too," I responded, "but you need to know that Im in uncharted waters here. Ive never made love with a woman before and unless I miss my guess,
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