The Sweetest Dare (11 page)

Why am I here?
She wasn’t enjoying herself without Kit. She moved to slide out of the booth but her companions emptied from the other end, with Annalise returning as Skylar and Paris straightened their miniskirts.

“It doesn’t look like they’ve made our drinks yet, so we’re going to change our order.” Skylar said this with her gaze fixed to her phone. Sid imagined she could walk the whole floor and seat herself at the other circular booth, not realizing she’d joined strangers.

Annalise scooted closer to her. A pungent whiff of beer stung her senses and she turned her head. She wanted to move away, but only a few inches of bench kept her from falling on her ass.

“You’re gonna sing, too, right?” Annalise asked. “We could do a duet, like ‘Islands in the Stream’ or something.”

“Oh, lord.” She laughed, and silently cursed her new friend for the earworm. “I can’t carry a tune to save my life. I’m content to watch other people make asses of themselves.”

“It’ll happen, but not with Paris. She’s good.” They glanced at the bar, where both young women leaned and thumb-tapped on their phones as though the Den didn’t exist around them. “I met them at FYE in Virginia Beach. She was singing along to the store headphones. I know she’ll bring down the house tonight, but damn if I’ll follow her,” Annalise added.

“You met both of them just today?” When Annalise nodded, Sid raised an eyebrow and turned as her drink arrived. Kit had intimated that her friend seldom wasted time with attractive women. She thought of her past dalliances, knowing she couldn’t judge Annalise, and felt relieved she had a wonderful person who made no move to stray.

Or not
. She itched to check her phone again, though she heard not a hint of the tone assigned to texts. Kit’s absence worried her now. She’d accept even a curt
we need to talk
over radio silence. Maybe she had an accident, slipped in the shower or wrecked her car?

She left her drink untouched, sliding it away from her. Paris or Skylar could enjoy seconds on her. “You know, I think I’m going to head out,” she began, but Annalise’s hand clamped on her wrist and held tight.

“I think you’ll want to stick around a while.” Annalise sidled too close for her comfort, and she tugged to free herself from the other woman’s grip.

“I think
you
don’t want to keep this hand.” Her voice took on a sharp edge. When Annalise didn’t give, she kicked a leg forward to pivot out of her seat. She’d drag her captor to the door if necessary, but unfortunately the heftier Annalise weighed her down. The hand around her wrist snaked to her opposite while she pointed with the other.

“Hey!” She wriggled and grimaced at the pain shooting where Annalise’s fingers dug into her skin. “Two women aren’t enough for you in one night?” Where the hell were the Lipstick Twins, anyway? Probably out on the porch to find better reception. “I didn’t come here to add to your body count.”

“Excuse me, I’m trying to
help
you. Look over there.”

Sid faced the stage as the hostess grabbed the microphone and introduced Kit.

* * * *

Oh, she is not… get your hands off her, you cow!

She had half a mind to leap from the stage and drive straight for Annalise. Her soon-to-be-former friend grabbed at Sidney like she was the last doll in stock at the toy store on Christmas Eve, whispering no doubt her latest pickup line in her ear. To her minor relief, Sidney appeared more irritated than seduced, so Kit left it alone for now.

She’d come here tonight to prove herself to Sidney. Acting like a jealous shrew and causing a scene in front of every lesbian in town wasn’t the way to properly express oneself.

The hostess nudged her toward the mic, and she scanned the remainder of the crowd. She held the attention of half the people gathered on the main floor. Such apathy might have disappointed another woman, but the dwindled attention cheered her. She didn’t feel pressured to entertain the whole bar, just win the heart back of one patron.

“This is—” Feedback screeched over her and she paused, then, “this is for you, Sidney.”

The lights directed at the small riser passing for a stage brightened, making it difficult to gauge Sidney’s reaction. She noticed the couple at the corner booth struggled less and settled in to listen. Annalise still needed to back off.

Her heart pounded in her ears, too fast for the beat of the song she’d planned. Nonetheless, she nodded behind her and the drummer tapped a one-two-three signal to begin. The first bass chord rumbled through her and the stage vibrated under her feet. The music didn’t sound as loud up here as out on the floor, probably because of how the band had positioned the speakers. No time to consider these things, though, as the song neared her cue.

The first line of “Silly Love Songs” came out ragged and weak. She inhaled on the pause and put more power into her voice. It was enough to get a girl leaning on the bar to look up from her phone, but only Sidney’s attention concerned Kit. Her confidence boosted as she finished the verse, she hoped Sidney understood her reason for singing.

Then came that long, repetitive “I…
love
yoooou” chorus. Silly, yet appropriate for the Wings hit. When Kit had registered to perform earlier, she imagined she’d direct her voice at Sidney for the three minutes she spent with the band. Once the chorus began, her arm shot forward to offer Sidney a hand.

A few patrons whooped in response. The overhead lighting softened and Kit saw Sidney beaming back at her. Annalise, to her satisfaction, slid to the middle of the booth and diverted her focus to her beer.

The duet singer crooned the second chorus as Kit continued with the “I love yous” over her. She’d liked this song as a kid, and figured it simple to remember for live karaoke, but she didn’t realize she’d be saying the same thing over and over for a while. Sidney, however, sat trance-like for a moment, taking it all in until Annalise lifted her foot and poked her shoulder.

Five steps later she stood at the lip of the riser and reached for Kit’s hand, then pulled her closer as the band segued into the instrumental break, triggered by a mohawked girl off to the side with a laptop loaded with music samplers. One click of the mouse added the strings and brass to the four-piece band playing along.

“Hold up!” Kit squealed. “The song’s not over.”

“I know. Let’s dance.”

Still clutching the wireless microphone, Kit clamped one around Sidney’s waist and led an awkward waltz around a patch of dance floor. Gradually more patrons joined them, gyrating and grasping each other until everybody bounced in unison. Kit couldn’t tell if the crowd noticed she had missed the cue to sing again, but thankfully the band played another instrumental round and she signaled the guitarist that she was ready to resume.

“How… can I tell….”

Sidney crooned along with her, and soon the entire club got in on the act with some singing different lyrics as a round. It should have come out jumbled with all the people gathered, but Kit paid no mind. One look into Sidney’s eyes, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders and standing close, cured any misgivings.

Sidney’s smile, her warmth, gave her comfort. They could stand together as partners amid all these women in this club, and she could do the same anywhere else.

As the final lyric faded with the band’s last chord, the club erupted with applause and cheers. Sidney squeezed her tightly, her lips buzzing her ear. “Kit, I do love you, too.”

Kit nodded at various congratulations and shook hands, all the while keeping her gaze locked with Sidney’s. After a few thank yous she edged them to the circular booth where Annalise had become the filling in a blonde sandwich.

“You look cozy,” Kit told her as they approached.

With a head on each shoulder, hands smoothing over arms and thighs, Annalise attempted a shrug, but the goofy grin plastered on her face confirmed Kit’s perception. “You gals want this booth? We’re heading out of here in a few.”

Kit imagined she’d learn the result of Annalise’s outing via text or Instagram. She held Sidney tighter to her. “Actually,” more to her than Annalise, “I was thinking we could bug out of here.”

Sidney’s smile fell. “You don’t want to stay? The karaoke’s just hitting its stride now. I was going to suggest a duet.”

Kit pecked her on the lips. “If you don’t mind, I have another idea.”

* * * *

This, Sid decided, beat lesbian bar karaoke up and down with a stick.

Their waitress—a bit thick around the middle, white apron over a blue uniform, sporting a dyed-orange beehive—arrived with two large plates. “Triple berry pancakes,” she announced and set the short stack in front of Kit, “and a blueberry Belgian waffle.” Service with a smile, followed by, “Let me know if y’all need anything else.”

She waited until the lady bustled out of earshot, then leaned to talk in Kit’s ear. “I still think she’s channeling Lucille Ball.”

“The outfit’s more Alice from
Brady Bunch
, though.” Kit pointed with her fork at fake Lucy’s white shoes and support hose. “Seriously, she’s been working here for years and her hair’s always been like that. Sue Briscoe’s lived here all her life, and she told me.”

Sid cut into her breakfast-for-dinner. The malted waffle had blueberries cooked inside, and warm compote brimming in most of the middle divots. The crisp edge surrendered easily to her fork and she speared a triangular bite. “This is delicious,” she said, and sipped her coffee. She loved everything about Shakey’s Diner, a twenty-four-seven greasy spoon not far from the Den. Framed black and white photos of long-gone movie idols graced the walls, and vintage neon logos illuminated the windows. The reproduction Wurlitzer jukebox by the door played vinyl 45s—not one song recorded after 1964. It was like stepping back in time, eating here.

She enjoyed the company most. Kit had the inside of the bench they shared, and ate with her left hand. This allowed them to sit closer, each stroking the other’s thigh as they talked.

“I talked to Tish earlier, and she knows,” Kit was saying, “and she’s cool with it. I wonder if she might have suspected something and didn’t tell me.”

“She’s very perceptive. I think it would’ve been clear to her eventually.” Sidney remained optimistic. She didn’t want to cool the vibe with talk of their afternoon spat.

“Of course, work time is for work. I doubt she’d like it much if she caught us in the walk-in cooler.” Kit nudged her, causing her to flick a droplet of blueberry syrup on the table.

“Hey!” she chided. “This is too good to spill everywhere.” She dabbed at the stain with a paper napkin and they resumed eating. After a beat, her free hand walked a few inches to the crease in Kit’s jeans. She rubbed her girlfriend’s crotch as they locked gazes.

“I’m going to call Mom and Dad, tomorrow,” Kit said. “Like Trish, they might have figured it out, but it’s time I made it official.”

“I’ll be there with you, if you want.”

Kit nodded and ate a few bites in silence. “Believe it or not, they make everything fresh here,” she then said. “The blueberries come from Pungo. It’s all farm to table.”

“I make an awesome blueberry sauce, you know.” Sid noticed Kit’s lower lip shining with maple and raspberry and she nipped her quickly for a taste. “If you don’t mind getting a bit sticky, you might want to sample some.”

She smiled at Kit’s deep blush. No heads turned at the innuendo, but with a girl group crooning from the jukebox and the waitresses barking orders to the cook they had enough distractions. She twined Kit’s free hand in hers and rested them on the table between their meals. Kit made no move to hide their affection.
Not so bad, is it?
They weren’t marching in a parade, or making out like horny teenagers, but being themselves.

Two women living their lives, enjoying each other’s company. If anybody here had a problem with it, they didn’t have to look.

“Wanna get some to-go boxes?” she asked. Kit smiled at her and her pussy gave a squeeze. She wanted to get her home. Forget the syrup, the whipped cream, the toys. She craved a long night of slow lovemaking on her futon. Tangled limbs, mating tongues, hands caressing skin without a thought to time or the world around them.

Kit’s eyes darted side to side, as though assessing their options. “You sure?” she asked. “I know you want to go out tonight, and I’m totally fine with it. We could even go back to the Den, if you want, for a drink—”

“Kit, I’m happy for this. I love hanging out with you anywhere,” Sid said. “I like to believe we have many years of this to come.”

“Yeah.” Kit didn’t look away with embarrassment. She met Sid’s lips in a brief, exploring kiss that lasted until a shadow caught the corner of her eye.

Fake Lucy hovered over them, thankfully not scowling. The older woman set the check face down by the syrup dispenser. That was when Sid spotted the rainbow flag button among the other flair lining the straps of her apron.

“Get a room, you two,” the waitress said with a wink, then sauntered back to the counter.

“Don’t worry, we will.” Kit dropped a twenty on the table.

They left the booth and the diner, still holding hands.

Leigh Ellwood
writes erotica and romance, particularly M/M and F/F pairings. She is a two-time finalist for the Gold Crown Literary Society Award and an EPIC Award finalist and winner.

When Leigh isn't writing, she reads. She enjoys all genres, especially historical fiction.

For more information on other books by Leigh, please visit her official website:
LeighEllwood.com
.

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