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was torn. A part of me wanted to pull McKayla inside with me and never let her go. But another, possibly more rational, part wanted to put the breaks on whatever it was that I felt and take things a little slower.
"Ill . . . ah . . . see you later." McKayla gave me a look that promised great things for our next outing, then turned and walked back to her car. I watched her, hypnotised by her bouncing pony tail and magnificent backside.
She got in her car and backed out. I went inside and closed the door. My hands still smelled of her lotion. I could taste her on my lips.
It only took a few seconds to throw my purse down and rush to the back of my apartment. Falling onto the bed, I imagined McKayla laying on top of me, her weight pressing down.
I masturbated violently, fantasising about being with a woman for the very first time.
My orgasm didnt satisfy me.
So I did it again. And again. And again, until I finally fell asleep, exhausted.
***********************
She called me at work the next morning. We had to postpone our second date; she ended up having a meeting that night. We compared schedules and found that the only time we could go out by ourselves was the next Friday. She was busy with meetings and dinners with clients; I was free most nights but we had also promised to go out with Allyson and Bretlynn some after work.
The four of us girls went out on Wednesday and Thursday. It was awkward. At least it was for me. I tried not to hover too much around McKayla and she avoided staring at me. It was like our date was something to hide.
Of course they knew we had gone out; Allyson told me as much later. They also knew we had gone out as more than "just friends", but neither of them said anything; I think they enjoyed watching McKayla and I sweat as if we had some deep, dark secret.
Each night I went to sleep wondering what I was getting myself in to. Was this infatuation or puppy love? Was I just experimenting? Was I really a lesbian? Or did I just find myself attracted to someone who was irresistible?
The memory of our kiss made me long for the next Friday night. That was the slowest week of my life, but it finally passed.
McKayla was coming over after work. I made reservations at Chez Pierre, a local French cuisine restaurant, and wanted things to be perfect for us. I was still nervous, but not as bad as the weekend before.
She showed up right on time.
"Hungry?" I asked as she stepped into my apartment.
"Im starved, actually," she said.
After I went to retrieve my purse and keys, I turned to head for the door and found McKayla right behind me.
I jumped slightly. My body tensed as I felt her arms around me. She pulled me close and, before I
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could react, gave me a deep, passionate kiss.
Slowly, I relaxed as her tongue entered my mouth. Her hands framed my face.
My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Her kiss was both hard and gentle at the same time. I could feel the desire radiating from her, yet her touch wasnt rough or overpowering like a mans.
McKayla was all woman. She was very feminine but at the same time not girly.
She pulled back enough to let me breathe, then nibbled softly on my lower lip.
Her hands brushed the hair out of my face.
"Ive been waiting all week for that," she whispered.
"Me, too." My voice was barely audible.
No matter what I told my arms or feet or hands to do, I couldnt move. All I could do was stand there in her arms, trying to remember to breathe.
We gazed into each others eyes for an eternity. Her big brown orbs were hypnotic and smoldered with lust and passion.
Finally, she let me go. I tried not to let out a disappointed sigh.
I took her hand and led her out to my car.
We made some small talk on the way to the restaurant. She had just landed a couple of new accounts at work and was very excited. I was just happy that my boss hadnt chewed on me the day before when a whole pallet of liquor had turned up missing (no one at work had actually stolen anything—this time—the new inventory system screwed up all on its own).
We were seated at a private corner table. The lights were low and the food was excellent. McKayla ordered a braised chicken and I had the stuffed duck in a white wine sauce. We talked for a while about little things.
"Amberle," she said right after we were done with our salads, her voice nervous. "Are you . . . I mean . . . do I . . . aw, shit, Im going to fuck this up, too . . ."
"Fuck what up?" I asked after a moment.
She took a deep breath. "Do I have a shot at being more than just a friend?"
I looked into her eyes. "Ive been wondering that myself. . . . Listen . . . This is all very new for me . . ."
Her hand reached across the table. I took it.
"Im not good at relationships," McKayla said quietly. "All the ones Im in usually end badly."
For a second, I was tempted to say something, but I could see that she was searching for just the right words.
After a false start or two, she began to speak, her voice hushed. "I dont like commitment. I dont like feeling like Im tied down. Maybe its because I spent so much time . . . wondering if I was normal . . . worrying about rejection or people not accepting me because of who I am . . . I wish I could explain it."
Very gently, I took her hand in both of mine and gave her
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