The Lonely Hearts Club (9 page)

“No. Why should she?”

“If you’re thinking of dating—”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. But maybe you should let her know that.”

“Don’t worry. I will, if I need to,” Liz said irritably. “Sometimes, two lesbians can just be friends, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” Candace linked her arm through Liz’s. “Then I guess we should go join our
friends
.”

“You know, sometimes you’re a real pain in the ass.”

Candace laughed. “I know, but you still love me.”

Liz watched Reilly shoulder her equipment bag and tried not to think about friends and lovers and the shifting boundaries that divided them.

Reilly leaned back in her chair across the rickety scarred wood tabletop from Liz and watched her laugh at something Candace was telling her. Parker had squeezed onto the bench seat next to Candace and Liz, and all the adjoining tables were filled with players, from their teams and others. The baseline noise level in the crowded, dimly lit sports bar was so loud that ordinary conversation was a challenge, and Reilly couldn’t hear the joke. She didn’t mind, though, because being on the edge of the action gave her the opportunity to observe Liz without being obvious about it.

Ordinarily, she didn’t stay for more than one beer—just long enough to keep Sean and her other teammates from bugging her about never going out. Work and softball and her nights at the dojang were plenty to fill up her time. She didn’t go to parties. Being single was pretty much like having a blinking sign on her back saying “hit on me,” and she got tired of saying no. She got tired of asking herself why she was still saying no, too. Tonight was unusual. Getting a win off the Hammers was always a high, but that wasn’t the only reason she was feeling so good. Liz tilted her head back and laughed again, emphasizing the long, smooth column of her neck, and Reilly was reminded of how deceptively fragile a woman’s body could appear. She imagined if she skimmed her fingertips along the angle of Liz’s jaw and over her throat she’d discover the steely strength of tight muscles beneath satin skin. Her gaze drifted lower to the swell of Liz’s breasts and her hands trembled. Quickly, she lifted her gaze and found Liz staring at her with a half-smile.

Nonplussed, Reilly drained her beer and only then remembered she had come right from the hospital after spending the entire afternoon reconstructing an open shoulder from a gunshot wound. She hadn’t had time for dinner, and now she had a bit of a buzz on. That probably explained why she felt flushed and just a little bit shaky. Her pulse was racing, too. She looked at the empty bottle clenched in her fist. It was only her second, at least, that’s what she thought. Or had Parker bought another round for the table a while ago? Jesus, it wasn’t like her not to pay attention to what was going on around her.

“You okay?” Liz asked, leaning across the table. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”

“Just winding down,” Reilly said as she edged forward to close the distance between them. At least Liz hadn’t said she’d looked like she was undressing Liz in her mind, which she hadn’t been. Not exactly. Although she could still almost feel the hot pebbling of hard nipples against her palms. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“It was great.” Liz chuckled. “Just what I need, a little more competition during my off hours because I don’t get enough during the day.”

“Didn’t you say you play squash? Now
that’s
a tough game.”

“Oh sure. And from the looks of the scrapes on your leg and the gash on Parker’s elbow, you play softball just for the social interaction.”

Reilly grinned, and although her head might be a little fuzzy, she noticed that Liz had very neatly diverted the subject away from herself. “Playing it safe never gets you anywhere. Nothing to lose, nothing to win.”

For a second, Liz’s smile faltered and Reilly wondered what it was she had said. She replayed the conversation in her mind, and other than realizing that she very rarely had any kind of conversation with a woman, she couldn’t put her finger on anything amiss. Nevertheless, Liz seemed upset. Reilly slid her hand across the table and rested her fingers on Liz’s. “Are you okay? You’re not still feeling sick, are you?”

“No,” Liz said quickly. “I feel great. It’s just been a long week. I think I’ll call it a night.”

Ignoring the surge of disappointment that came out of nowhere, Reilly said, “I’ll walk out with you.”

“Just give me a minute to make sure Candace has a way home.”

Reilly signaled good night to Sean, who sat at a nearby table with Drew, and stood as Liz half-crawled over Candace and Parker to squeeze out between their table and the one next to it.

“All set?” Liz asked.

“Yes. Candace taken care of?”

“Parker is giving her a ride.”

Reilly didn’t comment as she wended her way single-file behind Liz through the boisterous crowd. Once outside, she breathed deeply and tried to decide if her head was clear enough to drive. At just after nine p.m., the sky was dark but the air still warm. A night breeze carried the lingering scent of cut grass and hot earth. The smell of summer always made her think of being a kid, and how damned easy it had all seemed then. Endless summer—if she’d only known it would end someday. But then, life was like that—you couldn’t go back when you were finally smart enough to appreciate what you had.

“Where did you park?” Reilly asked, pushing aside the familiar melancholy.

“Around the corner on Lincoln Drive.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” Liz said. “Isn’t that your car across the street?”

“Yes, but I’m going to take the train. One beer too many.”

Liz shook her head. “You most certainly are not. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Will your car be all right here tonight?”

“It should be. This is a residential area. But you don’t need to—”

“And who was it who gave me a ride home not so long ago when I was a little off my game?” Liz grabbed Reilly’s hand. “Don’t argue. We’re practically neighbors, so you know it’s not out of my way.”

Reilly tensed as Liz’s fingers curled around hers. It was a friendly gesture, nothing more. She tried to remember the last time anyone had touched her and couldn’t.

Liz looked down at their joined hands and let go. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m just jumpy.”

“Come on, my car’s over here,” Liz replied, looking as if she didn’t believe Reilly’s explanation.

Reilly couldn’t think of a reason to refuse, and she didn’t really want to. She’d enjoyed Liz’s attention while she was playing earlier. Every time she’d looked across the field, their eyes had met. The connection was probably only in her mind, but it felt good in a way she??d forgotten. Her enjoyment in fielding a ball or getting a hit had been heightened because Liz was watching. Foolish, maybe, but pleasurable, just the same.

“I appreciate it, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Liz walked around the driver’s side of her car and regarded Reilly with a smile. “Besides, I owe you for introducing me to the guilty pleasure of softball voyeurism.”

“Hell, if you think tonight was good, you’ll have to come to the Tournament Ball at the end of the season.”

Liz quirked an eyebrow. “You mean ball as in dance?”

Reilly nodded.

“You’re not kidding?”

Reilly shook her head.

“Candace is not going to believe this.”

*

“I guess this isn’t your usual Friday night fare,” Parker said, sliding back into the booth next to Candace and placing a martini in front of her.

“Thanks,” Candace said, taking a sip. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find that the bartender did a nice job with the mixed drinks, even though almost everyone was drinking beer. “What do you think I’m usually doing on Friday night?”

“Dinner, the theater, drinks after at the Chelsea Lounge.”

Candace smiled at the reference to the city’s newest watering hole, where the in-crowd went to see and be seen. And Parker was right, it was one of her favorite places to end the evening if she hadn’t already found a companion for the night. The mix was refreshingly metro, and she never had any difficulty finding a female partner. She didn’t worry about marital status or even primary sexual identity, because she wasn’t in the market for a relationship. She was pleased that Parker seemed to be on the same wavelength. “Correct on all counts.”

“So I should consider myself lucky you ended up here,” Parker replied.

“Are you feeling lucky?” Candace teased.

“I usually am.”

Parker pulled on her beer bottle and stretched one toned and slightly dust-smudged arm out along the back of the bench behind Candace’s shoulder, looking nothing like the high powered attorney Candace surmised her to be. What she did look like was a very confident and sexy woman. About Candace’s height, putting her several inches above average, Parker had a rangy build with long lean legs, small breasts, and nicely developed shoulders and arms. Her medium length chestnut hair was in disarray but managed to look stylishly attractive nevertheless. Expensive haircuts would do that for you.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have a cheering squad tonight,” Candace probed. Interest had been signaled, now it was time to set down the ground rules.

“I don’t tend to cultivate the kind of relationships that generate fans.”

“How about a wife who prefers staying home with a good book?”

“Nope.”

“No steady girlfriends?”

“Not a one.”

Candace laughed. “But a few not so steady ones?”

Parker grinned. “It’s been my experience that repeat performances usually carry strings, and I’m more of a woodwind type myself.”

“As in you blow hard and fast and then you’re gone?”

“Something like that,” Parker acknowledged. “How about yourself?”

Candace reached under the table and smoothed her palm up and down the inside of Parker’s bare thigh. She let her fingertips stop just beneath the edge of her shorts. “What would you say?”

“Snare drum,” Parker said immediately, covering Candace’s hand and easing it a little higher until Candace felt the heat pouring from her skin. “A blast beat that takes your breath away.”

“I’d say we’re well-attuned.” Candace considered sliding her fingers just an inch or so higher and investigating how much hotter, and wetter, Parker was. She hadn’t made a woman come in a public place in a long time.

“I have very good control,” Parker said, as if reading Candace’s mind. Her voice had dropped what seemed like an octave at the same time as her hand had drifted from the back of the bench to Candace’s shoulder. She stroked Candace’s arm and brushed her lips over the rim of Candace’s ear. “In case you were thinking of taking advantage of me.”

Candace turned her head just enough to whisper against Parker’s mouth, “I intend to take everything you have to offer.”

Parker’s thigh twitched beneath Candace’s fingers. “Are you ready to leave?”

“I’ve been ready since the minute I saw you tonight.”

*

“Lick me there. That’s right,” the blonde murmured.

Jae caught the distended clit between her lips and swept her tongue back and forth against the sensitive spot underneath, the spot that made the standing woman bite back a whimper every time she touched it. She thought she heard the staccato click of heels against the marble floor of the casino lounge, but didn’t slow her pace, sensing the orgasm gathering in the hot pulsing flesh against her mouth. The tile was cool beneath her knees and her tuxedo pants were a vise against her throbbing crotch.

“Ahhh,” the blonde sighed, her thighs trembling. “She has a talented tongue. She’s going to make me come.”

“I know,” Jae heard someone whisper. Not alone then. Eyes closed, she sucked and teased until the fingers gripping her hair shook violently. Above her, the blonde panted for breath while her hips writhed restlessly. Yes, she would come soon. Very soon.

“You can masturbate, if you must,” the blonde gasped, and Jae wasn’t certain to whom she was speaking—her or the unknown observer—but she didn’t care. Permission had been given, and she needed it. Needed it so much. She fumbled with her trousers and finally got the button open. Jae shoved a hand into her gaping fly and gripped her clit, hard and slippery and aching. Groaning, she vibrated it between her fingers and sucked harder. She would come, had to come, because her flesh was burning, bursting, but it wasn’t coming she cared about. She felt her mistress harden even more, filling her mouth, and she devoted herself to only one thing, delivering the pleasure she had been entrusted to give.

“Oh yes,” the blonde keened, her voice a thin high wail. “Yes. I’m coming.”

With the cry of pleasure enveloping her, Jae squeezed and twisted until her swollen flesh released her. Drained, she sagged forward, her cheek against the smooth thigh. Warm fingertips briefly caressed her face. Then the blonde shifted and Jae was alone on her knees in the empty stall.

Bren leaned back from the keyboard, sipped her wine, and slowly reread the passage. The entire time she’d been writing, she’d held the image of the dark-haired woman from the bathroom in her mind. At some point, the Jae she knew almost as well as she knew herself and the flesh and blood rendition she’d seen earlier became one, and the scene unfolded with perfect clarity. The mistress was blond, large breasted and luscious, commanding and so sensuous. Everything Bren was not. But the blonde’s orgasm, her sweet surrender to Jae’s talented mouth, had been Bren’s.