Never Say Never (7 page)

“Oh, come on. Twenty-two isn’t that young. How old are you?”

I grimaced and shook my head, envying her all the more. No wonder she seemed so carefree. “I’ll be thirty-four before the year’s over.”

“Ooh, an older woman.” She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

I was appalled. “I am hardly an older woman.”

“And I am hardly a baby.”

I sat back for a moment and grinned, completely enamored.

“Touche,” I retorted, and was rewarded with her throaty laughter.

We sat talking over coffee far longer than either of us realized.

It was just after ten-thirty when she grimaced. “I can’t believe it’s this late.”

“We talked for hours.”

She smiled, resting her chin on the knuckles of her left hand.

Her dark eyes stared into mine.

“You’re easy to talk to.”

“You are too.” I felt the nervousness from earlier returning.

She sighed heavily, sounding tired. “I hate to say this, but I have a golf lesson at six, and I need to get some sleep.”

“We should go then.”

She nodded and paid the bill before escorting me to the door.

We were relatively quiet on the short drive back to Buckhead.

When we arrived at my hotel, she stopped the car at the end of the circular driveway and cut the engine, turning to me as she shut off the headlights.

My stomach began to flutter.
Uh-oh.

Without meeting my eyes, she reached over and picked up my left hand and held it in hers. She traced my palm for a few moments before lifting her eyes to mine. I noticed how much darker they looked from just minutes ago.

“I don’t want to say good night.”

Uh-oh. Stay calm.
“I had a nice time. Thank you
.
” She looked at me quietly, then wrinkled her nose. “I don’t suppose you want to invite me up?” she asked hopefully, almost shyly.

“You have a golf lesson at six,” I reminded her, surprised at the calm in my voice.

She looked a bit disappointed, but recovered quickly. “Hey, we could play golf tomorrow afternoon. Maybe go dancing tomorrow night? What do you say?”

“Yes.” I didn’t even have to think about it.

She seemed relieved. “Good. How’s two o’clock? I have to work until noon.”

“Perfect.”

“Good.” Awkwardly, she hesitated before leaning over and pressing her lips against my cheek. Then she leaned back just enough so that she could look up at me through her lashes. I watched as she closed her eyes and leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine. It was a slow, soft kiss, tasting of garlic and wine.

Reluctantly, she pulled away, her eyelids heavy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Again she sighed.

“Okay.” I let myself out of the car, shut the door firmly behind me, and leaned down to look through the open window. “Thanks again. Good night.”

“Good night,” she smiled as the engine turned over, and she slid the car into gear, waving briefly before heading out into traffic.

Michelle was right on time again the next day, this time looking adorable in her golfing duds. It took us just over a half-hour to get to the country club, where she outfitted me with clubs and shoes.

“How long do you think you’ll be working down here?” she asked.

“Initially I thought about three months. Now I think it will be more like four altogether.”

We laced our shoes and journeyed out to the first tee. She offered to get us a cart, but I said I’d rather walk. I enjoy the sound of golf cleats on pavement, and I grinned at the sound as we crunched across a little bridge that ran from the clubhouse to the course itself. It was after three o’clock, and the course was relatively empty.

I was shy at first, knowing that I hadn’t held a club in over a year. Michelle was patient, though, encouraging me and giving me pointers throughout the day. She had a beautiful stroke, and I respected her talent immediately.

“Wow. How did you ever learn to hit the ball like that?” I asked after a particularly spectacular drive.

She waited until the ball landed on the fairway some two hundred plus yards away before she replied. “When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to the driving range just about every day.” She bagged her wood and heaved the bag over one shoulder as we strolled toward our balls. “He used to say there was nothing sweeter than the thwack of a well-hit ball.” I chuckled. “Are you and your dad close?” We reached my ball, and I held out my bag. “Which club?” She looked out toward the green and shook her head. “You’ll need your three iron.” I probably wouldn’t get near the green even with a three.

She stood back and waited quietly for me to swing. I was surprised when the ball fell within a couple feet of the target.

I turned to Michelle and smiled. “Not exactly a thwack,” I said.

“But not exactly a kerplunk either.”

She laughed and we began walking forward again. “So, are you close to your dad?” I asked, continuing our conversation.

She let a few moments pass before replying. “Not anymore.” Her voice was flat. “He’s a politician. Local stuff. City councilman, that sort of thing,” she explained. “He wasn’t too wild about his daughter being a dyke. He sent me down here to school, and I haven’t been back since. We have an understanding. He sends me a big fat check every month, and I don’t go home.” She shrugged.

“I figure I won’t see my folks again until after he retires.” My heart sank a little. “I’m sorry,” I told her.

“Don’t be,” she said as she steadied an iron beside her ball as it lay in the rough. The ball popped into the air and ran onto the green, stopping jut two inches shy of the hole. She grimaced as she looked at me. “Close,” she sighed, then stepped over and tapped the ball into the hole.

I watched her as she retrieved her ball, and she stepped when she caught me watching. She straightened up and looked at me steadily. “It really doesn’t bother me much anymore. Besides, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t get to do this every day.” Her arms swept out as she indicated the golf course around her.

I let the subject drop as I focused on my next shot. The ball skidded and bounced, running far beyond and to the right of its intended destination. It was hopeless. Two putts later, I finally put the ball where it belonged.

After eighteen holes of golf, I was discouraged by my score. It was nearly twice what Michelle had shot.

“Perhaps you should consider professional lessons.” She grinned broadly as I unlaced my shoes in the empty clubhouse.

I laughed. “Perhaps I should.”

“I make house calls,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her, caught off guard by her sudden flirtation. My mouth hung slightly open as I eyed her. She grinned again, and bent over to cover my mouth with hers in a brief, thorough kiss. I looked around quickly to make sure no one had heard the loud smack, which brought another chuckle to her lips. “Don’t worry. Everybody here knows about me.”

I went back to changing my shoes, thinking hard about her comment. In my best southern drawl, I asked her, “You bring a whole lotta gals here, do ya ma’am?”

“Why, never a one before you, I swear.” She batted her eyelashes in southern belle imitation.

I eyed her speculatively, and my voice returned to normal.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

After a brief dinner at a local deli, we drove back across town to the gay club. I tried to convince Michelle that I should go back to my hotel to change, but she insisted that I not bother. “Besides, if we go back to your room, then its likely that I won’t want to leave,” she told me sweetly before reaching over and slipping her hand into mine. I continued to be surprised by her innuendos, even as they became more frequent.

It was early when we arrived, only nine o’clock. The place was quiet. No music was playing, so all I could hear were conversations, laughter, and clinking glasses.

We settled on a table beside the unlit dance floor, and I soon found out that everyone, it seemed, was a friend of Michelle’s. She was even more popular than Billy had been the other night, and I found myself surrounded by both men and women. Michelle introduced me to each and every one as the jokes and laughter and alcohol flowed.

Over the next two hours, the place began to fill up, becoming even more crowded than it had been that previous Thursday night. At precisely eleven o’clock, the dance floor was lit, the speakers thumped into life, and the drag queens began their show. I enjoyed myself immensely. By midnight, the show was over and the dancing began. Michelle and I danced nonstop for a solid hour before falling back into our seats, tired and sweaty.

Michelle ordered another round of drinks for our table, and I finished mine easily. “I’m exhausted,” I called above the music.

She placed her hand on my thigh and leaned her head close to mine so that she could hear me.

“Me too.” She smiled and sipped her drink, leaving her hand on my thigh.

“Do you work here a lot?”

She shook her head. “Usually three or four nights a week. I have to work tomorrow night.”

Another glass of wine was placed in front of me, courtesy of one of her friends. I took a sip, feeling reckless and knowing that I’d already had enough to drink. I turned to Michelle and told her as much.

“Is that good or bad?” she asked coyly.

“Bad, I think. I’m not very good at drinking.”

“Is that because you get sick or because you lose control?” I was astonished by her straightforwardness, and I laughed.

“What do you think?”

She tipped her head to one side and smiled at me. Her eyes looked so dark again. My eyes dropped to her mouth, and I watched her sip her drink slowly while she assessed me. She licked her lips quickly, and I decided that I wanted that mouth. It had been too long.

She leaned in closer until her face was inches away, her eyes looking directly into mine. “I think,” she began, “that it’s because you’re afraid that you’ll lose control. And you don’t trust yourself when that happens.”

I stared into her eyes, mesmerized. I could feel the effect of the alcohol washing over me. She was right, of course, but I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t answer her. I was completely focused on her eyes, her mouth, her eyes again. Her mouth.

“Do you ever lose control, Leslie?” I could barely hear her voice, but I knew exactly what she had asked. My eyes flew to hers, searching. I knew she was sucking me in, teasing me. But I didn’t care.

Before I realized what I was doing, my hand was at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer until my mouth covered hers. No softness this time as our mouths opened, our tongues meeting hungrily. My fingers slipped and twisted into the thickness of her hair as I urged her closer.

Our kiss broke as quickly as it had started, and we stared at each other before she smiled sardonically. “I guess you do,” was all she said.

Back to my senses, I blushed and looked quickly around, knowing that at least a dozen of her friends had seen the kiss.

We left soon after that, and I stumbled out to the parking lot, feeling tipsy, knowing I would reprimand myself in the morning.

She had her arm around me as we made our way, and I leaned into her just a bit. We reached her VW, and she carefully swung me around to face her, grabbing both my hands and placing them on her hips. She held me, gently pushing me back until I was leaning against the car door.

My mind swam as she began to kiss me, the full length of her body pressing into mine, straining to get closer. Our mouths were open, sucking, searching until I could focus on nothing else.

Then her hand was on my breast, teasing through my shirt. My entire body was suddenly alive as electrical currents coursed over me, through me.
Oh god!
My knees grew weak, but she caught me, held me up with one arm, slipping a leg between mine, creating more pressure.

My breathing was heavy as she continued to tease me. Her mouth was on my neck now. Biting, nibbling. Causing tingles to slide up and down my spine.
Oh my, my, my!

“Michelle?”

A familiar male voice fell on my ears, causing me to stiffen instinctively. I ducked down a little so that Michelle was standing in front of me, one arm still around me as she turned toward the voice.

“I thought that was you.” I knew the voice. It was Billy. “Gee, I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t realize...”

“Your timing is awful,” Michelle told him, her voice husky.

I peeked over Michelle’s shoulder and cringed a little when I saw his bearded jaw drop.

“Leslie?”

“Hi, Billy.” I waved sheepishly.

“Oops, sorry.” He raised both hands apologetically. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He stepped backwards. “Just pretend I wasn’t here.” He smiled, embarrassed, and turned away.

We watched him walk away before Michelle turned back to me.“We should probably go now,” I said, and she nodded in agreement.

“I’m really sorry about Billy,” she told me when we were back at the hotel, parked at the end of the horseshoe driveway.

“It wasn’t your fault. Don’t worry about it.” My head was clear now, the mood of the moment definitely gone. I knew that she was disappointed, but I couldn’t help it. She didn’t ask to come inside. Instead she told me that she wished she could see me tomorrow, but she had to work. “What about Monday?” I shook my head regretfully. “Work night. I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

“Friday?”

“If I don’t go home for the weekend,” I laughed. “You certainly are persistent.”

“Only when it’s worth it,” she replied.

I kissed her softly and thanked her before saying good night.

I spent most of Sunday swimming and lounging by the pool. I stretched out in the hot sun and let my mind wander. Last night had left me with a severe case of sexual frustration. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. But it was there with me all day, that dull ache that just wouldn’t go away. I allowed myself the luxury of replaying the events of the last night, relishing the memory of Michelle’s mouth and the thrill of her practiced hands.

She certainly knew exactly what she was doing, I chuckled to myself, speculating that Michelle was no stranger to sexual encounters. I imagined she had probably had more than her share of women in her young life. I, on the other hand, had never quite been able to let go and appreciate sex with someone unless I believed that I was in love with her. While part of me was proud of that fact, another side of me occasionally wanted to break out and discover what it would be like to be carefree.