“The DA?” Amy exclaimed.
Rachel nodded.
“But she’s so fucking down to earth.”
“Okay, okay,” Amy said, leaning forward over the table. “Get to the good stuff. Valentine’s Day!”
It felt weird because she and Amy never shared details about their sexual exploits. Usually it was nothing more than “I got laid last night” or “Spent the weekend having sex.” But Rachel was determined to ignore the weirdness this time and tell Amy as much as she wanted to hear.
Which apparently was everything. Rachel started off sparing no details and Amy didn’t stop her. It wasn’t lesfic detail, fine, but it was certainly more than Rachel was used to sharing with another human being about her carnal activities.
When she was done, Amy asked, “So…you liked it?”
Liked?
“Aims, I loved it! If I wasn’t sitting here with you, I’d be having sex with her right now.”
“Oh my god!” Amy squealed. “So what does this mean?”
Rachel knew what the question meant. Was she gay? Was she bi? Was she something in between or not yet invented?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. But she really wanted Amy’s insight. “On the one hand, I never thought about having sex with a woman until I met Ainsley. Now, all I want to do is have sex with Ainsley. But it’s not that simple, either.” She lowered her voice and glanced over to her left, towards the ordering counter. “I mean, all of a sudden I’m realizing that I wouldn’t turn Vanessa down.”
Amy scoffed.
“That doesn’t count.” she said. “Vanessa is not of this world. She can turn any woman.”
Amy looked around the coffeeshop.
“What about her?” she said, tilting her chin toward a table against the east wall. A pretty young woman with honey-colored hair was working on a laptop.
That Rachel found her pretty was nothing earth-shattering. Rachel had never had a problem recognizing when a woman was pretty—and had never felt gay for doing so. In her mind, that’s just the way women are—unafraid to acknowledge attractiveness within their own ranks. Unlike straight guys who wouldn’t dare call another man handsome unless you put a gun to their heads.
But now, Rachel was realizing that she was now wondering what kind of kisser the woman was and what did her lips taste like; she was feeling a frisson of excitement at the idea of lifting the woman’s t-shirt to reveal what kind of bra she was wearing beneath it; she was remembering the erotic thrill of unclasping Ainsley’s bra in the limo on Valentine’s Day and revealing her breasts for that very first time, and she was feeling a similar thrill imagining doing the same to this woman in the coffeeshop.
The woman was wearing shorts and Rachel eyes glued themselves to her tanned thighs and she bit her lip at the idea of licking both of them from her kneecaps all the way up to the prize at the apex.
She heaved a deep sigh.
Turning back to Amy, she said, “Fine; I wouldn’t turn her down either.”
“This is exciting!” Amy said, practically buzzing with some form of energy which had evidently been created by Rachel’s admission. “Can I tell Sally?” she asked.
Rachel shrugged.
“Why not? I trust her. Besides…”
“Besides?”
Rachel took a moment to compose her thoughts. Eventually, she said, “Even if things don’t work out between me and Ainsley…” She paused when a stab of pain shot through her heart at such a scenario. “I think that instead of running back to men, I might want to explore relationships with other women.”
“Oh my god, that’s awesome!” Amy gushed.
And Rachel smiled because she was thinking that, yes, it was awesome.
***
About half an hour later, Rachel got a notification on her phone.