In My Skin

Torquere Press
www.torquerepress.com

Copyright ©2009 by Cassidy Ryan

First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2009

For Zoe, who makes me laugh, and Emily, who makes me blush.

It was like a compulsion. Since that day two weeks before when I had dropped into Goddess for a quick coffee on my way to a client meeting and seen her, I couldn't walk past the place without feeling like some kind of magnet was drawing me in.

That day was no different. I parked my car in its usual place and started walking toward the office a block away. The walk took me past the narrow, cobbled lane with its little jewelry and gift stores and its general Bohemian air that reminded me of the London I'd seen on my last visit to England. My steps faltered in a way that was becoming familiar, and my eyes were drawn to the coffee shop half way down the lane. It was still early—before eight in the morning—but it already had a steady flow of traffic as my fellow office workers jacked up on caffeine to get them through the morning.

I didn't even realize the direction my steps had taken until I heard the click of my heels change as I moved from the street to the cobbles. The uneven surface of the lane hadn't been designed for high heeled shoes, but I kept walking until I reached the door of Goddess. I stopped there for a moment, gnawed on my lower lip and felt how I imagined a teenage boy would feel going into the drug store for his first pack of condoms.

But I wasn't a teenage boy. I was a twenty-eight-year-old woman; a successful lawyer, widely traveled, wearing the best pair of Jimmy Choo's my bank account would allow. With the confidence that only a really great pair of shoes could provide, I mentally squared my shoulders and pushed open the door. I stepped to the side to let another customer pass on his way out before moving to a table in the corner. I sat in a big, overstuffed chair and crossed my legs. My eyes roamed around the room in a way that I hoped looked nonchalant while my stomach twisted and my fingers drummed on the arm of the chair.

I caught the eye of the waitress. She smiled brightly and wandered over. “Well, hi there. You're becoming quite the regular. The usual?"

I felt my face warm with embarrassment. “Uh, yes, yes. Thank you."

"How about something to eat this morning? Our blueberry muffins are to die for.” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet. Either this girl, whose name tag read Sophie, was really a morning person or they were paying her in espresso.

"No, thank you. Just coffee.” My fingers were still tapping out a nervous beat on the arm of the chair, my eyes flicking beyond the waitress.

"Watching your figure, huh?” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “If you ask me, you have nothing to worry about there.” She winked playfully, and I felt myself blush. Without waiting for a reply—that I probably wouldn't have been able to supply, she turned on her heel and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

To give myself something to do I took out my laptop, placed it on the low table and started it up. I was going over my calendar for the day when I felt a presence beside me. Expecting to find the waitress with my coffee, I smiled and turned. But the smile froze when I saw not the energetic red-head, but
her.

That very first time I had seen her, standing by the counter, her long, dark blonde hair shining under the overhead light, long, slender limbs encased in tight jeans that rested on gently rounded hips, my body's reaction to her had been almost frightening. Never in my life had I experienced a physical attraction so intense that it actually took the breath from my lungs. I had wanted to run then, to get as far away as I could as quickly as I could. But I couldn't seem to make my feet move. I just stood there and stared open-mouthed. When she turned and saw me, she smiled, and I'd actually felt dizzy.

I looked up at her now, standing beside me, and felt that same warm, shivery sensation run through my body and heat pooled between my legs.

"Good morning.” She smiled in that way that lit up her smoky gray eyes and made my stomach clench, and proffered a tall cup. “How are you today?"

I took the cup in fingers that trembled. “I'm fine, thank you ... and you?” I cringed inwardly—I sounded like a tongue-tied fourteen year old.

"It's Friday, the sun is shining. Life is good.” She really had a beautiful smile. And skin that looked as soft and smooth as...

I took a quick drink of coffee to cut the thought off and immediately regretted it as the hot liquid scorched my tongue and throat. I gasped, the cup tilted and coffee splashed over my hand. “
Fuck!
” I put the cup on the table and shook the coffee off my hand. When I looked at her again, I knew that embarrassment had stained my cheeks a deep red. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I'm such a klutz.” Which, actually, was not true at all.

"Don't worry about it, here; let me see your hand.” Without waiting, she took my hand in hers and gently ran her thumb over the pinkened skin. I sucked in an involuntary breath, and her eyes met mine.

"Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. “No, no really, it's fine.” I felt a lame smile turn up my mouth and had to look away.

"I'll be right back.” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a small ice pack. “Here, this will cool the skin down.” I sat dumbly as she once again took my hand in hers and laid the ice pack on it. I was unable to suppress the shiver that ran through me, but I knew that it had more to do with the touch of her hand on mine than the temperature of the ice pack.

"You're not going to sue me, are you?” I looked up from our joined hands and found her watching me with a little smile on her wide, full lips.

I felt an answering smile tug at my own mouth. “No, I won't sue—where else could I get such service?” Wait, was that flirting? Did I just flirt with another woman? Well, that was new.

While she held the ice pack on my hand, her thumb made absent little circles over my knuckles. The movement did nothing to cool me down.

"Well, that's good then. I've gotten used to seeing you in here every morning. It would be a shame if you had to start your day with someone else.” Was it my imagination or did her pupils just get larger?

I suddenly found that I had difficulty swallowing. I had even greater difficulty tearing my gaze away from hers. “I should ... I should get to work.” My voice was low and rough-sounding when it emerged.

She nodded and removed the ice pack, then dabbed at the damp area of skin with a napkin. “There you go, no permanent damage. I could kiss it better if you like? My mom always swore that a kiss was the best cure for all ails.” A mischievous light entered her eye.

I think I might actually have made a gurgling sound, and my lips tingled inexplicably. “Your mom sounds like a smart woman.” Okay, that was definitely flirting.

"The smartest.” She still hadn't let go of my hand, and I found that I was in no hurry to retrieve it. “Are you busy tonight?"

The question caught me off guard. “Busy? Well, no, not really.” Oh God, was she going to ask me out on a date? I felt ready to start hyperventilating.

"Why don't you come on by here around seven then? A friend of mine will be reading from her new book. There should be a good crowd in, and you can even have a coffee on the house.” She grinned, and I felt like an idiot. I sent up a prayer of thanks that I hadn't said anything about a date.

I finally took back my hand. “That sounds great. I'll drop by if I can. But right now I should get to work. Thank you for...” I waved my scalded hand, quickly packed up the laptop and stood.

"No problem. I hope you can make it tonight.” Was I imagining an intensity in the words that was not there? I hadn't felt this confused since I actually was a teenager.

"I'll try.” Even as the words passed my lips I knew that nothing short of a natural disaster would keep me away. “Thank you for everything ... I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"Chaise. I'll look forward to seeing you.” She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and it had the effect of pushing her breasts forward. I really tried not to look, but I think my eyes might have slipped.

"My name's Anna.” Again with the gurgling.

Chaise smiled. “I know."

I was unbelievably, pathetically pleased that she knew my name. Not trusting my voice I just nodded and left, thankful that I didn't trip over my own feet on the way.

It was an odd thing to discover at the age of twenty-eight that I wasn't quite as straight as I had always assumed myself to be. Odder still that I wasn't freaking out over the discovery. I'd lain awake at night for more hours than I cared to remember analyzing this, waiting for the panic to rise. But it never did. Was it going to be some kind of delayed reaction thing? Was I going to be sitting in a meeting one day and have the reality suddenly hit me, causing me to grab the nearest guy and fuck his brains out just to prove to myself that I was still all woman?

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, trying to decide what to wear, and laughed. The guy who usually sat nearest to me in meetings was Oliver Driscoll, the senior partner in my law firm, a wizened old geezer who was pushing eighty and refusing steadfastly to retire. If I put the moves on him he'd probably keel over from a heart attack.

I'd decided to just go with it. When I was in college I had a friend who developed a drinking problem and ended up going to AA. After that her mantra was
"Let go and let God"
. That seemed like a pretty sound philosophy to apply to any part of life.

That's not to say that I was all ready to go out and start marching in Pride parades, but I would keep my mind open and just let it happen, if indeed
it
was going to happen.

I finally settled on a pair of black slacks and a skinny, red sweater with a V-neck that showed off a nice amount of cleavage. I added a touch of my favorite Dolce and Gabbana perfume, finger mussed my short hair and checked my make up. When I was satisfied that I looked casual but smart, I collected my bag and headed out.

I arrived at Goddess at just after seven. It looked different in the evening—candles flickered on the tables, little fairy lights that I had never noticed before twinkled around the bar and on the topiary trees dotted around the place, and soft music played in the background. It was also pretty crowded—mostly with women. It had, of course, occurred to me that
Goddess
was a lesbian hangout, but that evening just confirmed it.

I was aware of eyes on me as I wove my way through the tables in search of an empty seat and caught a couple of very interested looks. I waited for the panic to kick in, but still nothing.

"Anna.” I turned at the sound of my name and saw Chaise waving to me from a table near the back. She beckoned me forward. “Why don't you join us?” she asked when I reached the table.

I looked at the other women gathered—five including Chaise and the red-headed waitress. “I don't want to intrude."

Chaise pulled out the chair beside her. “I invited you, didn't I?"

I nodded my thanks, sat down and hung my bag on the back of the chair.

"Let me introduce you to the ladies.” Chaise turned to the other women at the table. “Sophie you know, of course. Sophie's my partner."

That threw me. My heart sank to my toes with disappointment.

"Business partner,” Chaise added. “We co-own Goddess."

My heart did such a speedy 180 that I felt positively queasy. I don't think my relief showed in the smile I gave Sophie. The smile Sophie gave me, however, was so knowing that it made me flush.

Chaise gave no indication that she had sensed my feelings, but continued with her introductions. “This is Claire and Jo—they're partner partners.” She smiled. “And the one at the end there is Max—she's been trying to get into Sophie's pants for nearly a year, but Sophie's playing hard to get.” Laughter ran around the table.

"I'm wearing her down.” Max gave Sophie a theatrically lascivious look, and Sophie responded by fluttering her lashes like a Victorian virgin.

They were a fun group and quickly put me at my ease. At eight o'clock Max got up on the small stage in the corner, sat on a tall stool and picked up the paperback book on the table beside the stool. I instantly thought of the beatnik poets of the sixties and half expected Max to start snapping her fingers.

I'm ashamed to say that my attention drifted after she had read no more than a paragraph. It wasn't that the story wasn't gripping—I didn't hear enough to decide one way or the other. But I was intensely aware of Chaise's presence beside me. She was watching Max with a small smile on her lips and she smelled really nice.

She turned suddenly and caught me looking. I blushed—realized that I did this a lot in her presence—but just smiled. Chaise returned the smile and reached out to push a lock of hair behind my ear. It was an incredibly intimate gesture and made me a little breathless.