Wherever the Dandelion Falls (34 page)

We found a parking spot and Faye sprung out of her seat as soon as she put the car in park. I could feel her excitement as she darted over to me before I'd even gotten out. She laced her hand with mine and pulled me toward the entrance.

Inside was a predictable visitor center, with souvenirs and snacks and displays of maps and nearby tourist attractions.

"Pick any one you want," she said, gesturing to the five options we had for touring what must have been an enormous castle. "We should start with this one," she said, pointing to the starter tour before her hand drifted over the rest, "but after that we can do as many as we have energy for. We could do all five if you want."

I studied the tour options, seeing the photographs of the castle grounds and great halls and art and pools. I didn't know where to start, other than the starter tour. Finally I looked at Faye and said, "Which one is your favorite?"

"All of them," she said. "But I love this one," she said, pointing.

"That's the one I want," I said, not even bothering to look where she was pointing. She loved this place so much and I wanted to see her happy.

She grew bouncy again and squeezed my hand. "Okay."

Reveling in her unhindered excitement, I let Faye lead me to the ticket counter and then the bus; up the winding hill where we strolled through lush gardens, crystal clear pools with fountains, and gold-plated statues; and walked through halls lined with priceless art, stately furniture, and the most stylish architecture of the castle's era. It was a treasure to behold. Almost as precious as the expression on Faye's face when she watched me experience it for the first time.

After going on three tours, our legs were aching, our stomachs were growling, and we decided to call it a day. Faye suggested we not take the coast road home. It was getting dark, so I nodded and gripped her hand as we walked back to the car.

As we wove back through the trees and boulders and cliffs on our way back to the highway, a new calm washed over us. We talked, remarking on the things we'd seen that day, but the playful spark that had been in our conversation on the drive down was now a soft glow. I took Faye's hand and held it as we drove through the twilight back to San Francisco in silence. It wasn't awkward. It was as wonderful as eating cupcakes with her.

"Can we stop for cupcakes?" I asked.

Faye looked at me with an amused smile. "I was thinking dinner first, but of course." She nodded to my phone where it rested in a cup holder. "Find a place."

I grinned and picked up my phone, not letting go of her hand as I found first a nearby pizza parlor and then a cupcake shop that was still open.

An hour later we were full of pizza and sitting on a bench outside a local bakery with a plate of cupcakes on a table in front us. I realized that the cupcake I was holding had pink frosting, and given the right tongue technique, could easily be moulded into a vagina. I was surprised my brain had turned a dessert into something sexual. Maybe it was a result of all our pent-up sexual energy. As I briefly contemplated using the cupcake to tease her, I felt my face grow warm.

Faye picked up a cupcake and studied my face. "You're blushing," she said.

“No, I'm not," I grumbled, busying myself licking the frosting off the
edge
of my cupcake. I felt myself getting warmer, and I knew Faye was right.

Faye hooked her finger under my chin, tearing my attention away from my dessert before twisting her torso enough to kiss me, soft with only a little tongue against my lips. Then she broke away and murmured, "I'm happy to have you as my girlfriend. Even if you blush easily."

I felt a relieved giggle bubble up through me. She'd said it.

But I loved playing with her. "Girlfriend, huh?" I said.

"Girlfriend," she said, winking. "Unless you have other offers."

I dropped the game and smiled. "No, I want to be your girlfriend."

"Good." She kissed me again, brief and soft before she lifted her cupcake to her lips and licked some of the frosting off.

I sat looking at her, not feeling the need to speak. We had reached that level of intimacy; we could enjoy each other's company without getting anxious about what silence meant. We adored each other and would rather be together than alone.

I thought about my decision to wait to have sex with her. It had been about making myself feel safe under the guise of creating intimacy, right? Now I felt safe
and
intimate.

I was pretty sure I was ready to have sex with her. She had been patient and kind and had taken me on heartfelt adventures. She's bared herself in precisely the manner I'd intended for us to get to know each other. And while the pressure to have sex would always be there, it didn't feel so awful anymore. The idea of being naked and talking about our bodies and kinks and histories didn't feel threatening or scary.

But I didn't know how to tell her that. Usually I just started kissing someone until clothes started peeling off, but that wasn't how I wanted it to be with us. I wanted it to be intentional. I also didn't want to experience crippling anxiety afterwards, which meant I wanted her to get tested first, which meant we had to talk about it.

But instead of saying something, I started kissing her. There weren't many people on the street, and kissing in public was okay with me as long as it didn't get too steamy.

But I must have underestimated my kissing because soon Faye pulled away. She kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath to calm herself. Every time she pulled away like that, I felt a twinge of guilt and flattery. By just kissing her, I aroused her.

I was just about to whisper that I was ready when she tapped my nose and said. "Tell me something about freckles."

I smiled, loving that we had made this our game now. "I have lots of them," I said. "Do you have any?" I joked. From her pristine skin, anyone could tell she didn't have freckles.

"Actually," she said, growing coy. "I do. Well, not freckles, but beauty marks. One here," she said, pointing to the familiar mole on her shoulder. "And two more somewhere else," she said, glancing away coquettishly.

"Somewhere else..." I echoed, intrigued.

She gave a smug nod, then looked down in her lap. "Twinsies. One on each side," she said, tapping a few inches in from each hip bone. "But only special ladies get to meet them."

I loved the fine line of sexy and safe she was walking. She wasn't pushing me to have sex, but she was keeping up the intrigue and making me feel desired.

"Could I be one of those special ladies?" I said, playing up the adorable personification of her beauty marks.

She grinned and nodded. "My freckles would love to meet you."

I leaned forward, nuzzling her nose and giving her a peck on the lips.

"But only when you're ready," she added. "They'll be patient."

I decided the best thing would be to be honest with her. So I bit the bullet and brought it up with her.

"We should get tested soon."

Faye's face fell from its playfulness into surprised eagerness. "Yeah," she said. "We should do that."

Relieved and excited that we were talking about something sexual besides how we
weren't
doing it, I smiled. "Okay."

There was a quiet silence as Faye looked at me to gauge whether or not I was in with both feet. Wanting to assure her, I picked up another cupcake.

"Actually I got tested about two months ago. Everything came back negative. I haven't been with anyone since," I said.

"Great. I'll do it this week," Faye said.

There was a tense moment of silence as we licked the frosting off our cupcakes in what suddenly seemed like a lewd fashion.

Wanting to assure her I was feeling good about my decision, I gave her a playful smile.

She set down her cupcake and looked at me with a serious expression. "Are you
sure
?" she asked. "I don't want to pressure you."

"You're not." I gave her another coy smile as I stuck out my tongue to run it down the center of the cupcake, intentionally teasing her.

Faye watched me with her teeth pressing into her lower lip.

Suddenly saddled with a sense of urgency to get back to the car, we devoured the rest of our cupcakes and threw away the wrappers. We walked back to the car holding hands and slid inside. She didn't even bother putting her keys in the ignition, letting them lie in her lap as she turned to me with a sexy smile and cupped my face. I smiled back, leaning toward her, giving her the kiss I knew she wanted: a kiss that was too juicy for a cupcake shop.

Soon our faces were sticky with frosting residue, and our bodies were twisted around the confines of the center console.

I came into work the next day to find a cupcake in my locker that Callie had decorated with frosting to look like a breast, complete with a pink M&M for a nipple. I laughed and ate it, glad for the sugar boost before my shift.

After what had happened with Dr. Turner, I was relieved to find nothing had changed in the Box. The only thing that was different was I found myself doing more choreography, walking through routines between customers in preparation for the classes I was now teaching.

So far the students at Swivel liked me, and students promised to bring friends to my classes to fill up the few vacant poles. I wasn't making the kind of money I'd made with Turner, but it was enough to justify permanently modifying my schedule at Jez so I could teach three days a week. I'd been at Jez long enough to have a good relationship with the show manager, so my request was put into effect immediately. I had to work more morning shifts, but I still got my Friday night Private Pleasures Booth shift. I still hadn't decided what to do with my car, but I figured that was a decision for another day.

When Thursday came, I woke up with a strange combination of excitement and dread. Faye and I were having lunch before I took her to get a gift certificate for Isaiah. Any normal friend would have relished the opportunity to be helpful, but I liked Faye as so much more than a friend. She arrived a few minutes late, hair perfect as always as it draped over the shoulders of her red wool coat. I loved that coat on her. It made her skin and lips and hair glow.

She seemed to be in a good mood as we walked to a café down the street. She was talkative, which was a relief. My work in the Private Pleasures Booth had taught me how to find things to talk about with any idiot, but talking to a beautiful girl I cared about while keeping appropriate boundaries was more exhausting than catering to the sexual fantasies of my customers.

Faye chattered away about her plans for her upcoming February Break, saying she had thought about going home to Texas, but was going to save her money to go to a writing workshop in Oregon later in the year.

"What kind of workshop?" I asked, blowing on my tomato soup.

"It's a journalism retreat," she shrugged.

"What about your book?" I asked.

Faye gave me a sad smile. "I don't think now is a good time to focus on that..." she said.

I had to wonder if I'd pushed something she wasn't interested in or if she was selling herself short.

"Are you ever going to do it?" I asked, making sure I didn't sound too invested or judgmental.

"Yeah," Faye said. "Just not right now."

I nodded and looked down into my soup, wondering what to talk about next. Luckily Faye asked about how things were going at Swivel, and I was all too eager to fill her in.

"It's fabulous," I said.

Faye grinned. “Is Anya happy?"

I shrugged. "She's happy she doesn't have to teach on weekend mornings after working late."

"What about you? Aren't you be tired?"

"Yeah," I said with a dismissive shrug. "But her job is harder."

Faye's brow crinkled. "How?"

"She has direct contact with her customers on the floor. I just stay in my little terrarium and dance."

Faye nodded. "Your job still sounds impossible to me," she mumbled. "How do you get through the week? I'd always be exhausted or grossed out all the time." Then her eyes widened, realizing she could have offended me. "I mean, not that it's gross. I just, I imagine your customers aren't all attractive and they're probably rude sometimes."