Slices of Life (4 page)

“Sure is. You have yourself a great evening, Sarah.”

“You too, MJ.”

The UPS van coughed to a start and MJ gave a wave and a short horn toot to Sarah as she pulled away. Yes, that Mr. Holt was one lucky guy. Somehow that brought her thoughts back around to Jenna Buckner at Davis and Fichter. What would it hurt to ask her out? Just something neutral, like coffee, just to see what they might have in common. It could be a little awkward, but what attempt at asking for a date wasn’t? Awkward was just part of the deal, right? MJ was a big girl; she could handle it. Life was too short to sit around wondering if you should have tried something, said something, done something.

She wasn’t one for sitting around.

Tomorrow, she would do it. She’d ask Jenna to coffee.

Tomorrow.

The nameless tune came back to her lips and she whistled away the rest of her route.

“Do you think she wishes she was a guy?” Rebecca asked as Sarah closed the front door.

“Who? MJ? Why would she wish that?”

Rebecca lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, she’s got to be a lesbian, right?”

“Why do you say that?”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow. “Really? Just look at her. She walks like a guy. She’s got a guy’s haircut. And that’s men’s cologne she wears.”

“So?”

“So nothing. I’m just wondering.”

“Just because a woman is gay doesn’t mean she wants to be a man.”

“I know that.” Rebecca’s expression turned into a wicked grin. “She’s got a really nice ass, did you notice?”

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh as they returned to the dining room table and their nearly-empty wine glasses. Sheepishly, she said, “Yes, I’ve noticed.” Not a lie. She’d also noticed MJ’s strong hands, the sinewy forearms, the thick shoulders good for holding onto… Sarah shook herself back to the conversation. “She’s so nice too. Always pleasant. Always smiling. I like her.”

“Me too. Can you imagine dating her? I wonder what that would be like.”

“I think she’d be charming. You know? Like, she’d bring flowers and open doors. Pull out your chair. That kind of thing.”

“I bet she’s good in bed.” Rebecca’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They say lesbians are better lovers than men because they focus on their partner and not themselves.”

“
They
say that? Who exactly is
they
?”

“I don’t know.” Rebecca laughed. “
They. Them
. The ones that know all that stuff.”

This was Sarah’s favorite pastime, the thing she loved most to do in the whole world. At least twice a week, sometimes more if their schedules permitted, Rebecca would come over and just spend time with her. They’d talk, they’d watch a movie, they’d take Jessie for a walk, they’d lie in lounge chairs in the back yard and just be together. Sarah had no idea if Rebecca was aware of how much these times meant to her. Frankly, she wasn’t sure
she
understood why they meant so much. The only thing she was certain of was that she felt best, most relaxed, most like herself, when she was with Rebecca. And while she tried hard not to dwell on it, sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

And dwelling on it scared the crap out of her.

“Well, I suppose I’d better get my butt home,” Rebecca said eventually, stretching her arms over her head and groaning loudly.

Sarah averted her gaze and pretended to play with Jessie’s sock. “Aw, do you have to?” she whined in a perfect imitation of her nine-year-old son.

Rebecca laughed and stood. “Believe me, I’d much rather stay here and drink wine with you.” She gestured with her eyes at their empty glasses. “Unfortunately, dinner won’t make itself.” She playfully tugged Sarah’s pony tail on her way into the living room.

“Somebody needs to invent that.”

“What?”

“Dinner that makes itself.”

Rebecca laughed as she gathered her bag and slipped into her shoes. “It would be revolutionary, that’s for sure.”

Sarah walked her to the door. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

Rebecca nuzzled the dozing toddler still on Sarah’s hip. “Bye-bye, Jessie. Be a good girl.” She kissed the baby’s head. “You need to put that child to bed.” She placed a quick, chaste kiss on Sarah’s lips and said, “Have fun at the teacher conference tonight. Bye.” And she was off.

“Wave to Aunt Rebecca,” Sarah said softly to her daughter, who could barely keep her eyes open as they stood on the stoop and watched their neighbor saunter down the street. Sarah tried not to look at Rebecca’s ass, but it was a losing battle. It was always a losing battle. To Sarah, watching Rebecca was like watching living, breathing art. Her long limbs, her wavy brown hair, her graceful hands, her bow-shaped mouth, her warm hazel eyes…

Rebecca waved back at them once she reached her own front door, then went inside. Sarah sighed and followed suit, Jessie’s now-sleeping form heavy in her arms. A glance at the clock told her she had roughly a half hour before the babysitter arrived to sit with Jessie while Sarah went to her teacher’s conference. She made her way to the baby’s room to deposit her in her crib. With Jeremy having dinner at his friend Eddie’s house and Jessie down for the count, Sarah found herself with some unusual—and much desired—alone time.

Not wanting to waste one second, she headed straight for box number three of the packages MJ dropped off.

“Just some books” wasn’t exactly the truth about the box’s contents. There was a book, yes. There were also a few DVDs. She didn’t like lying to Rebecca, but she just didn’t think there was any way she’d understand. Or, she’d understand way too well. Sarah wasn’t sure which would be worse.

Simply having the thin packages in her hand sent a thrilling shiver up her spine.
The Girl Sessions. Lesbian Love Volume 1. Afternoon Delight.
The book was
The Lesbian Sex Book
. Looking down at her new treasure trove, the thrill shifted immediately to guilt and then to fear. She glanced around, paranoid that somebody would see, that anybody walking by the house would feel the negative energy of her shame emanating right through the walls.

Inhale deeply.

Exhale slowly
.

Sarah closed her eyes and talked herself back into calm. So what if somebody saw? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Was she? She was curious. She was exploring. So what? Whose business was it?

The fourth bedroom currently served as a home office—though if Skip had his way, it would harbor another baby in the near future—so Sarah grabbed the baby monitor and took her handful of contraband to the computer desk where she spread it out and just stared. The covers were racy.
Which makes sense since they’re porn
, she thought, shaking her head at herself. Women of all shapes, sizes, and colors adorned the plastic cases in various states of undress. She had no idea where to start.

“What the hell am I doing?” she said quietly, though deep inside, she knew exactly what she was doing and why. She’d been struggling with—what? Curiosity? Unhappiness? Dissatisfaction? Feeling lost? Missing something? All of those clichés applied, and she’d tried for so long to compartmentalize, to put into a box the fact that she felt an overall restlessness in her life…tried to forget about it. She had so much. So, so much. Any woman would kill to have what she had: a handsome husband, beautiful children, a big house in an affluent section of the suburbs. She shopped when she wanted, bought what she wanted, went where she felt like going. To anybody looking in from the outside, her life was picture perfect.

But—and there was that cliché again—something
was
missing. Something she couldn’t define. No, that wasn’t quite true. Something she
didn’t want
to define. The only time she felt whole, felt like herself, was when she was with Rebecca.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it scared the bejesus out of her. Still did, but not in the panicked, terrifying way it did in the beginning. It somehow settled in, simply became…fact. When she was with Rebecca, whether they were taking the kids someplace, at a social gathering, or alone in one of their houses like today, Sarah felt like she could breathe, like the world made sense, like she didn’t need to question who she was or where she was in her life. Like everything was going to be okay.

She didn’t examine it. She didn’t roll it around. She simply accepted it. Which, if she was honest with herself, was the same as complete avoidance of the subject. Just accept it without discussion or thought or wonder. Simple acceptance was the easiest, least disturbing route.

Until about a month ago. She’d been watching a drama on television, one she watched weekly, despite the fact that it didn’t always hold her interest. Skip snored on the couch next to her, the kids were in bed. Sarah alternated between the flat screen of the TV and the
Better Homes
magazine in her hand, flipping pages and then glimpsing up. Finishing an article on choosing the right color for your kitchen, she glanced up at the television just in time to see the very attractive Hispanic actress kiss the equally attractive blonde actress full on the mouth.

Sarah’s own mouth went dry and it felt like her heart completely stopped. Not to mention the rush of wetness that hit her panties in a flash. In that moment, simultaneously, things became crystal clear, and Sarah felt like the stupidest woman on the planet. How could she not have seen it? How could she possibly not realize her now obvious attraction to women, to Rebecca? No wonder she counted the hours, the minutes, until they were in the same room together. Sarah was a smart woman, a college-educated, American female. How could she be such an idiot?

And what the hell was she going to do about it?

What
could
she do about it?

She’d looked over at her sleeping husband, his tousled sandy hair, the rough stubble on his face. He was a good man. He was a terrific father and a gentle, loving partner. They had a nice life together. The thought of disrupting all of it made her stomach roil, especially since she still didn’t quite understand the implications.

Was she a lesbian? Was that possible?

Maybe she was bisexual. Could be. She liked that idea a little bit better. It seemed safer.

Maybe it was only Rebecca. Maybe she had some weird vibe that sang only to Sarah. That was possible, wasn’t it? It was certainly the safest of all the choices. Yeah, she liked that one. It was only Rebecca. Somehow.

Sarah had picked up the remote and used the nifty rewind button the cable company so thoughtfully added to their features. Then she watched the kiss over again.

And over.

And over.

And over, sending surreptitious glances Skip’s way to make sure he remained asleep.

Since that day, Sarah’s every waking thought was filled with women. She looked at every female she encountered throughout the day and wondered about her. Did MJ think the way Sarah did? Was the cashier at the grocery store curious too? Could her yoga instructor feel Sarah looking at her neck, her mouth, her hands, her cleavage? Did Rebecca know? Did she ever think about the things Sarah thought of? Did she ever think of Sarah that way? If she did, she would have said something, wouldn’t she? Unless, of course, she was as freaked out as Sarah. Then she’d be suffering in silence too. Just like Sarah. And suffering was exactly what she was doing.

Sarah roughly scrubbed a hand over her face. She could go around and around for hours, for days, like this. Hell, she
did
. It was no fun. With a groan borne of frustration, she slit the plastic wrap on
Afternoon Delight
. She decided to start there because, of the three covers, the women on this one were the most attractive to her. She popped the DVD into the computer, clicked the appropriate buttons, and waited for the action to begin.

It didn’t take long, and Sarah thought her head might explode.

The acting was subpar and the plot was as bare bones as it could get, but the two leads were very attractive, very feminine, one blonde, one brunette, playing—of all things—
neighbors
.

“Jesus Christ. It figures,” Sarah said aloud, quietly.

They were in a dining room and the blonde made a comment about how the baby was finally down for his nap. The brunette wasted no time making her move and six minutes into the film, they were kissing deeply. Fleetingly, Sarah thought they seemed much more genuine than the women on her TV show, less like two straight actresses kissing and much more like two lesbians who really wanted each other, who were very focused on one another, and who knew how to kiss a woman. By eleven minutes in, the blonde was naked and on her back on the dining room table, her shapely legs spread wide, her fingers buried in dark hair as the brunette drank from her center like she was dying of thirst.

“Oh, dear god…” Sarah whispered as she watched, a rush of heat flooding her entire body.

Almost as arousing as the sight of the two women were the sounds. The moans and groans, the whispered pleas and assurances, and the whimpers of pleasure did nothing but make Sarah painfully cognizant of the fact that she would need to change her underwear. And when the blonde finally came, so did Sarah, only vaguely aware that she’d slipped her hand into her own shorts. She gripped the arm of the office chair until her knuckles went white, leg muscles twitching, gaze riveted to the screen.

There was more and Sarah would have stayed in her chair for hours had the doorbell not rung.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, pulling her wet hand out of her shorts and attempting to button things up. She popped out the DVD, put it in its case, scooped up her treasures and ran into her bedroom. The his and hers closets pretty much ensured that Skip wouldn’t accidentally find her stash, but just to be safe, she put it all in her sewing basket up on a shelf. The last time she’d sewed anything was when Jeremy was a baby. Nobody would think to look in there for anything valuable.

The doorbell rang again and Sarah swore.

A quick change from shorts to jeans, a stop in the bathroom to wash her hands, and Sarah was headed down the stairs just as the doorbell rang a third time and a voice from outside said with uncertainty, “Mrs. Holt?”