Outing of the Heart (19 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
Devon returned and, noticing the empty glass picked it up for a refill, her own included. She sat in silence through all this and Devon had just replaced their drinks when Justin knocked. She let him in and Tenille knew they had embraced and kissed. She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.
âHello, Tenille.' His voice was hearty and loud. She could only manage a weak smile. âSurprise, surprise. Didn't expect to see you here. Dev and I are going to take in that new bar. Care to come with us?'
âNo. No ⦠thanks. I have to be getting along.'
He didn't seem to be annoyed by her presence. Perhaps there was nothing between them.
âYou don't have to go yet,' Devon said. âWe can all enjoy a drink together, then we'll drop you off.' She smiled at her: âI can understand why you don't feel like joining us tonight, but perhaps another time?'
Devon was still like her old self, maybe the roof hadn't collapsed on her world after all. The conversation was mostly carried by the others. She just couldn't make herself good company, despite assistance from the liquor.
They set off just after ten o'clock. Mrs. Sandrelli had said she didn't want Tenille riding the TTC late at night, having promised to keep an eye on her. This was exactly what she aimed to do and therefore was another reason why she'd been so upset over Furio. Justin drove, Devon beside him. Tenille had the back to herself. Outside the house Devon confirmed their arrangement for tomorrow. âYou do still want to go, don't you?'
âYes, for sure. I wouldn't miss it,' she responded, trying to keep her voice bright. If she still wanted her, she would be there. Letting herself out, she waved goodbye as she walked up the path to the front steps, key in hand. No-one had come to shovel. It would be impassable by morning. Her day off, she could do it for them. Something to occupy her.
It would be a hot and soapy bath tonight. She needed to cleanse herself; afterwards to bed with a book. But she couldn't concentrate. She kept seeing Devon's face and her thoughts would stray to snippets of conversation. She couldn't figure her out. She had given her some comfort, but the heart had not been there. Nor had she been disturbed by her confession. Or was that because Justin had arrived and there wasn't the freedom to say what she really wanted? Wednesday she had been very forward. Had she read this wrong? Her thoughts swirled about in an effort to make sense of it. Devon was going out with Justin. Where did this put them? Nowhere ⦠as far as she could determine.
Unbidden, a feeling of jealousy engulfed her. The two had kissed, but was he the love in her life? Such musings should be repressed. She had no business being jealous. No right to be possessive, if it came to that. She pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. Her mind was too fatigued. Out with the light.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
By the time she awoke, morning was well advanced. The night had been a restless one, fighting with her pillow; with her thoughts and fighting Furio. She was far from refreshed. The front steps. Probably done by now. As so often happens after a heavy snowfall, the following day would be crisply cold and fresh, the bad weather all blown away.
While she made toast, she remembered back to when she was little and had loved to get dressed for games in the fresh snow. In those days dad would take her out with her friend, Solveig. They would haul their plastic scoot up to the top of the slope, perch themselves on the edge, then spin merrily away. Daddy used to run down then help them carry it up. It came to her now, just how much running up and down he must have done. What patience. They'd loved getting covered in the white powder. He had shown them how to make angels; lying flat on their back, sweeping their arms and legs in a wide arc. So clever of them. At home mom would have dinner ready. They used to eat dinner at midday in those days. She sighed. So many recollections; images she'd not brought to mind in a long time. She should phone the folks.
After breakfast, the chores attended to, it was time to shop. Shopping, then a dance practise. She hoped she wouldn't run into Furio, on her way out or in. Everything had been spoiled by yesterday.
It was all right on both counts. After unpacking she dragged out her practise board, moved the coffee table into the kitchen and gave herself a good solid hour of steps. The mirror worked well. Looking into it stopped her looking down at her feet. Two thirds of the way through she had the impression she was mastering it; by the end she felt hopeless. So many mistakes. Was it fatigue? It was to be hoped tomorrow would be better.
She moved on to dubbin her boots. She was looking forward to seeing Devon ⦠but in a way, she wasn't. After last night everything seemed so inconclusive, leaving her unsure of herself.
She decided to dress down this time. She wouldn't get there so early either. Black pants tucked into her boots, with a black sweater; surely that wouldn't attract attention. She tied her hair back with her black velvet bow and then made up her eyes. She still did want her face to look its best.
At the Sancho Panza she asked right off to speak to Diego. His greeting was warm, the incidents from last time must be but a dim memory, she surmised. She asked for the Los Flamencos table, explaining she had been invited to join them.
âCertainly. You are Tenille.' He flashed his dark, Spanish eyes at her. âI remember. Follow me.'
“Oh dear,”
she said under her breath.
In fact many people noticed her being led to the large table where she sat alone. Others even remembered her from before. There was no doubt that such a striking face could not easily be forgotten. The show was about to start, quickly the lights dimmed and everyone's attention was directed where the spotlight indicated; the small stage.
She was transported as much this time as the last, but now she was more discerning. Especially the skill of the ensemble in putting it all together. She paid special attention to Raoul; his accomplishments were impressive. Last time, she realized, her eyes had been for Devon, tonight she was more appreciative.
When the performers joined her at the table, she was elated. Her heart could have burst from her chest. That these talented people were taking her into their group. She had so much to thank Devon for. She looked across at her, a grateful smile playing about her lips. Devon had just lit up and observed Tenille's devotion.
Amaia urged a glass of Sangria on Tenille. She poured it from the large carafe, allowing the pieces of fruit to flow freely. She savored the slightly sweet, fruity drink, still with a little bite to it.
Contrary to her expectations, the meeting with Devon was not the least strained. She was her natural, ebullient self, the smile soft on her; she looked contented. This made Tenille happy too.
âCan you stay for the second?'
âDev, I'd like to but ⦠well you know how Mrs. Sandrelli is. I don't want problems, especially not just now.' She was apologetic, but these were her circumstances. She didn't have the same autonomy.
âListen, stay for the second. I'll drive you home.' Devon snapped her head up. âBetter yet; call her and tell her you're at the restaurant, that you'll be coming home with me and â¦' she waved her hand with a flourish, â â¦you'll see her in the morning.' She leaned forward and took Tenille's hand in hers. âYou would like that, wouldn't you?' She never took her eyes from the face before her.
If this were to be the time, was she ready? Was she getting an attack of cold feet? Devon observed the hesitation.
âWhy not?' she asked sharply, the vivid eyes narrowing as she dropped the hand that only a moment ago, had been held so intimately. She knew this to be the right time. Tonight was the night. They had waited long enough. Not pleased at this resistance she reiterated firmly: âCall her. If you don't try, you'll never know how she feels about your staying over. Tell her you're with me. She knows who I am.'
She wanted to stay. Devon had made her feelings plain at last. Tonight they'd be together, all night. Tonight her forbidden dreams could come true.
Devon knew as soon as she saw her face, from across the room and her own broke into a corresponding grin. After the second show Raoul joined the table, choosing to sit next to Devon. Stavros and Amaia sat together on the other side and she was on the end. Raoul's eyes raked her. Now he knew she danced, he took in every detail. He liked what he saw.
They went through a post mortem on the evening's performances and were very interested in her opinion, especially as the feedback she gave was positive.
âNext week we will try out a new singer, Raoul informed them. âA relative of Diego's. He's young, but he's been singing in a small way for some time. Diego is sponsoring him in Canada.'
âThis is very good,' Stavros observed. âNo Flamenco troupe is really complete without a singer.'
Tenille could contribute little to this conversation, but she enjoyed just being there. She asked if anyone had seen CARMEN, the movie.
âSi si.'
They had all seen it ⦠several times.
Leaving the others enjoying their evening, they took off about one o'clock. Last time Tenille had been out so late had been New Year's. It was a quiet journey to the apartment. Devon fixed them drinks, again giving Tenille a liqueur on the rocks. This time it was Galliano. She eyed it askance.
âI've already had quite a lot. Will you add lemonade to that, please?'
âYou worry too much. You're not going anywhere.'
âAll the same â¦' she persisted.
âOkay. If it will keep you happy.'
She was beginning to feel comfortable here; two days in a row. Under these circumstances, however, there was a little apprehension; a thrill of excitement too.
âLook, I've got some really good quality dope. Would you like a joint?' Devon brought over the makings to the coffee table and set about rolling one to share. Tenille had never used marijuana; never been tempted. This time, with Devon offering, she'd give it a try. She was intrigued.
âI've not smoked before,' she warned.
Devon was confident. âYou'll like it.' She took a big gulp of her drink in preparation, watching Devon light up and suck deeply, inhaling the smoke all the way down. She pinched the joint and handed it over. âEasy. Just take a big breath in.'
Being a non-smoker, of course she choked and began to splutter, her eyes watering. She gasped and handed it back. Devon laughed, then took another deep pull.
âTry again. You'll get the hang of it.'
She shook her head, but she urged her on. Another drink first. This time was better and she did seem to get a sort of light-headed feeling. Devon dragged again. She didn't want any more, but she kept going for her sake. Eventually it was done. Devon didn't seem to be affected one way or the other, but she wasn't sure she liked how she felt.
âCome on. Time to get ready for bed.' Devon left her drink, but she finished hers off before heading to the bedroom.
âDo you want PJ's?' She nodded. Devon rummaged through a drawer and found a navy blue, satin top, which buttoned down the front. There were no bottoms. She gave her the ensuite while she slipped out to the cloakroom. She was the first into bed. When Tenille appeared, she drew back the covers and patted the mattress. Tenille's heart was in her mouth, her head pounding. Here she was climbing into Devon's bed. Her first experience with a woman. She had dreamed of this moment and at the same time dreaded it. She had wanted to be physically close so desperately and now, suddenly, she wasn't sure. But there was no turning back. They both knew this was to be their night, although nothing had been openly stated. Was Devon experienced? Could this be her first time too? Nerves were getting to her. She wished her head felt better.
âCome here. I know this is what you want.' Devon's voice was husky. Then she whispered: âIt's what I want too.'
She climbed in beside her. She wasn't wearing anything. Devon turned off the light, then took Tenille in her arms. Their first embrace. Their first kiss. She wanted to be lost in it, but her stomach was beginning to churn.
Please don't let me be sick.
She would ignore it.
âYou have too much on. Let's take it off.' She began unbuttoning the top.
Tenille's excitement mounted, as did her nervousness. She stopped Devon's hands. âDev ⦠I've never done this before. You will ⦠will you guide me?'
âRelax, Ten. I know what to do, follow my lead.' Not Devon's first time then.
With both of them naked, they pressed their bodies together in a long kiss. Devon pulled away and said: âGive me your hand.' She guided it towards her vulva. Tenille experienced her wetness. It was so much. She felt herself become hot and swollen. Devon began to move her body, rhythmically backward and forward on Tenille's hand. She felt Devon slide inside her too, but it was rather hard and awfully fast. She continued her movements, making little moaning noises, kissing Tenille so hard on the mouth, she felt almost devoured by the fierceness. In time with her rhythm, Devon was moving inside her. She could feel her excitement, but she was going too fast. Then Devon exploded in her climax and clung to Tenille. She stayed inside Tenille, but gradually her movement subsided and then she took Tenille's hand away. She had a great climax when she smoked up before sex.
âOh man, Ten. You don't know how long I've waited for that. Wonderful woman. How was it for you?'
âDev ⦠I need more,' voice hesitant, feelings unsure.
âNo problem. Catch this.' She moved down and slid inside Tenille again. She began to move slowly, then to quicken her pace. Tenille could not feel excitement, only the movement. She feared it wasn't going to happen for her ⦠wanting it too much, perhaps? In the end she did climax ⦠fleetingly; but still dissatisfied and now sore. Devon was obviously tired and almost dropping off where she sat. She collapsed down beside her and kissed her good night.
âHello, Tenille.' His voice was hearty and loud. She could only manage a weak smile. âSurprise, surprise. Didn't expect to see you here. Dev and I are going to take in that new bar. Care to come with us?'
âNo. No ⦠thanks. I have to be getting along.'
He didn't seem to be annoyed by her presence. Perhaps there was nothing between them.
âYou don't have to go yet,' Devon said. âWe can all enjoy a drink together, then we'll drop you off.' She smiled at her: âI can understand why you don't feel like joining us tonight, but perhaps another time?'
Devon was still like her old self, maybe the roof hadn't collapsed on her world after all. The conversation was mostly carried by the others. She just couldn't make herself good company, despite assistance from the liquor.
They set off just after ten o'clock. Mrs. Sandrelli had said she didn't want Tenille riding the TTC late at night, having promised to keep an eye on her. This was exactly what she aimed to do and therefore was another reason why she'd been so upset over Furio. Justin drove, Devon beside him. Tenille had the back to herself. Outside the house Devon confirmed their arrangement for tomorrow. âYou do still want to go, don't you?'
âYes, for sure. I wouldn't miss it,' she responded, trying to keep her voice bright. If she still wanted her, she would be there. Letting herself out, she waved goodbye as she walked up the path to the front steps, key in hand. No-one had come to shovel. It would be impassable by morning. Her day off, she could do it for them. Something to occupy her.
It would be a hot and soapy bath tonight. She needed to cleanse herself; afterwards to bed with a book. But she couldn't concentrate. She kept seeing Devon's face and her thoughts would stray to snippets of conversation. She couldn't figure her out. She had given her some comfort, but the heart had not been there. Nor had she been disturbed by her confession. Or was that because Justin had arrived and there wasn't the freedom to say what she really wanted? Wednesday she had been very forward. Had she read this wrong? Her thoughts swirled about in an effort to make sense of it. Devon was going out with Justin. Where did this put them? Nowhere ⦠as far as she could determine.
Unbidden, a feeling of jealousy engulfed her. The two had kissed, but was he the love in her life? Such musings should be repressed. She had no business being jealous. No right to be possessive, if it came to that. She pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. Her mind was too fatigued. Out with the light.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
By the time she awoke, morning was well advanced. The night had been a restless one, fighting with her pillow; with her thoughts and fighting Furio. She was far from refreshed. The front steps. Probably done by now. As so often happens after a heavy snowfall, the following day would be crisply cold and fresh, the bad weather all blown away.
While she made toast, she remembered back to when she was little and had loved to get dressed for games in the fresh snow. In those days dad would take her out with her friend, Solveig. They would haul their plastic scoot up to the top of the slope, perch themselves on the edge, then spin merrily away. Daddy used to run down then help them carry it up. It came to her now, just how much running up and down he must have done. What patience. They'd loved getting covered in the white powder. He had shown them how to make angels; lying flat on their back, sweeping their arms and legs in a wide arc. So clever of them. At home mom would have dinner ready. They used to eat dinner at midday in those days. She sighed. So many recollections; images she'd not brought to mind in a long time. She should phone the folks.
After breakfast, the chores attended to, it was time to shop. Shopping, then a dance practise. She hoped she wouldn't run into Furio, on her way out or in. Everything had been spoiled by yesterday.
It was all right on both counts. After unpacking she dragged out her practise board, moved the coffee table into the kitchen and gave herself a good solid hour of steps. The mirror worked well. Looking into it stopped her looking down at her feet. Two thirds of the way through she had the impression she was mastering it; by the end she felt hopeless. So many mistakes. Was it fatigue? It was to be hoped tomorrow would be better.
She moved on to dubbin her boots. She was looking forward to seeing Devon ⦠but in a way, she wasn't. After last night everything seemed so inconclusive, leaving her unsure of herself.
She decided to dress down this time. She wouldn't get there so early either. Black pants tucked into her boots, with a black sweater; surely that wouldn't attract attention. She tied her hair back with her black velvet bow and then made up her eyes. She still did want her face to look its best.
At the Sancho Panza she asked right off to speak to Diego. His greeting was warm, the incidents from last time must be but a dim memory, she surmised. She asked for the Los Flamencos table, explaining she had been invited to join them.
âCertainly. You are Tenille.' He flashed his dark, Spanish eyes at her. âI remember. Follow me.'
“Oh dear,”
she said under her breath.
In fact many people noticed her being led to the large table where she sat alone. Others even remembered her from before. There was no doubt that such a striking face could not easily be forgotten. The show was about to start, quickly the lights dimmed and everyone's attention was directed where the spotlight indicated; the small stage.
She was transported as much this time as the last, but now she was more discerning. Especially the skill of the ensemble in putting it all together. She paid special attention to Raoul; his accomplishments were impressive. Last time, she realized, her eyes had been for Devon, tonight she was more appreciative.
When the performers joined her at the table, she was elated. Her heart could have burst from her chest. That these talented people were taking her into their group. She had so much to thank Devon for. She looked across at her, a grateful smile playing about her lips. Devon had just lit up and observed Tenille's devotion.
Amaia urged a glass of Sangria on Tenille. She poured it from the large carafe, allowing the pieces of fruit to flow freely. She savored the slightly sweet, fruity drink, still with a little bite to it.
Contrary to her expectations, the meeting with Devon was not the least strained. She was her natural, ebullient self, the smile soft on her; she looked contented. This made Tenille happy too.
âCan you stay for the second?'
âDev, I'd like to but ⦠well you know how Mrs. Sandrelli is. I don't want problems, especially not just now.' She was apologetic, but these were her circumstances. She didn't have the same autonomy.
âListen, stay for the second. I'll drive you home.' Devon snapped her head up. âBetter yet; call her and tell her you're at the restaurant, that you'll be coming home with me and â¦' she waved her hand with a flourish, â â¦you'll see her in the morning.' She leaned forward and took Tenille's hand in hers. âYou would like that, wouldn't you?' She never took her eyes from the face before her.
If this were to be the time, was she ready? Was she getting an attack of cold feet? Devon observed the hesitation.
âWhy not?' she asked sharply, the vivid eyes narrowing as she dropped the hand that only a moment ago, had been held so intimately. She knew this to be the right time. Tonight was the night. They had waited long enough. Not pleased at this resistance she reiterated firmly: âCall her. If you don't try, you'll never know how she feels about your staying over. Tell her you're with me. She knows who I am.'
She wanted to stay. Devon had made her feelings plain at last. Tonight they'd be together, all night. Tonight her forbidden dreams could come true.
Devon knew as soon as she saw her face, from across the room and her own broke into a corresponding grin. After the second show Raoul joined the table, choosing to sit next to Devon. Stavros and Amaia sat together on the other side and she was on the end. Raoul's eyes raked her. Now he knew she danced, he took in every detail. He liked what he saw.
They went through a post mortem on the evening's performances and were very interested in her opinion, especially as the feedback she gave was positive.
âNext week we will try out a new singer, Raoul informed them. âA relative of Diego's. He's young, but he's been singing in a small way for some time. Diego is sponsoring him in Canada.'
âThis is very good,' Stavros observed. âNo Flamenco troupe is really complete without a singer.'
Tenille could contribute little to this conversation, but she enjoyed just being there. She asked if anyone had seen CARMEN, the movie.
âSi si.'
They had all seen it ⦠several times.
Leaving the others enjoying their evening, they took off about one o'clock. Last time Tenille had been out so late had been New Year's. It was a quiet journey to the apartment. Devon fixed them drinks, again giving Tenille a liqueur on the rocks. This time it was Galliano. She eyed it askance.
âI've already had quite a lot. Will you add lemonade to that, please?'
âYou worry too much. You're not going anywhere.'
âAll the same â¦' she persisted.
âOkay. If it will keep you happy.'
She was beginning to feel comfortable here; two days in a row. Under these circumstances, however, there was a little apprehension; a thrill of excitement too.
âLook, I've got some really good quality dope. Would you like a joint?' Devon brought over the makings to the coffee table and set about rolling one to share. Tenille had never used marijuana; never been tempted. This time, with Devon offering, she'd give it a try. She was intrigued.
âI've not smoked before,' she warned.
Devon was confident. âYou'll like it.' She took a big gulp of her drink in preparation, watching Devon light up and suck deeply, inhaling the smoke all the way down. She pinched the joint and handed it over. âEasy. Just take a big breath in.'
Being a non-smoker, of course she choked and began to splutter, her eyes watering. She gasped and handed it back. Devon laughed, then took another deep pull.
âTry again. You'll get the hang of it.'
She shook her head, but she urged her on. Another drink first. This time was better and she did seem to get a sort of light-headed feeling. Devon dragged again. She didn't want any more, but she kept going for her sake. Eventually it was done. Devon didn't seem to be affected one way or the other, but she wasn't sure she liked how she felt.
âCome on. Time to get ready for bed.' Devon left her drink, but she finished hers off before heading to the bedroom.
âDo you want PJ's?' She nodded. Devon rummaged through a drawer and found a navy blue, satin top, which buttoned down the front. There were no bottoms. She gave her the ensuite while she slipped out to the cloakroom. She was the first into bed. When Tenille appeared, she drew back the covers and patted the mattress. Tenille's heart was in her mouth, her head pounding. Here she was climbing into Devon's bed. Her first experience with a woman. She had dreamed of this moment and at the same time dreaded it. She had wanted to be physically close so desperately and now, suddenly, she wasn't sure. But there was no turning back. They both knew this was to be their night, although nothing had been openly stated. Was Devon experienced? Could this be her first time too? Nerves were getting to her. She wished her head felt better.
âCome here. I know this is what you want.' Devon's voice was husky. Then she whispered: âIt's what I want too.'
She climbed in beside her. She wasn't wearing anything. Devon turned off the light, then took Tenille in her arms. Their first embrace. Their first kiss. She wanted to be lost in it, but her stomach was beginning to churn.
Please don't let me be sick.
She would ignore it.
âYou have too much on. Let's take it off.' She began unbuttoning the top.
Tenille's excitement mounted, as did her nervousness. She stopped Devon's hands. âDev ⦠I've never done this before. You will ⦠will you guide me?'
âRelax, Ten. I know what to do, follow my lead.' Not Devon's first time then.
With both of them naked, they pressed their bodies together in a long kiss. Devon pulled away and said: âGive me your hand.' She guided it towards her vulva. Tenille experienced her wetness. It was so much. She felt herself become hot and swollen. Devon began to move her body, rhythmically backward and forward on Tenille's hand. She felt Devon slide inside her too, but it was rather hard and awfully fast. She continued her movements, making little moaning noises, kissing Tenille so hard on the mouth, she felt almost devoured by the fierceness. In time with her rhythm, Devon was moving inside her. She could feel her excitement, but she was going too fast. Then Devon exploded in her climax and clung to Tenille. She stayed inside Tenille, but gradually her movement subsided and then she took Tenille's hand away. She had a great climax when she smoked up before sex.
âOh man, Ten. You don't know how long I've waited for that. Wonderful woman. How was it for you?'
âDev ⦠I need more,' voice hesitant, feelings unsure.
âNo problem. Catch this.' She moved down and slid inside Tenille again. She began to move slowly, then to quicken her pace. Tenille could not feel excitement, only the movement. She feared it wasn't going to happen for her ⦠wanting it too much, perhaps? In the end she did climax ⦠fleetingly; but still dissatisfied and now sore. Devon was obviously tired and almost dropping off where she sat. She collapsed down beside her and kissed her good night.
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