LipstickLeslee (8 page)

“What
¼
” She darted a
look at me that could have killed. Her eyes were full of unshed moisture though
they were narrowed with resentment and ambushed surprise. She uncrossed her
legs, re-crossed them, squirmed in her seat and panted. I feared she’d
hyperventilate if she didn’t calm down.

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” I said, longing to reach over and take
her in my arms, but she looked away, presenting me with her striking profile.
The stab of rejection hurt like hell, but I managed to continue. “I swear I
didn’t know. I just found out myself. I’m assuming it was Charles’ idea to pull
in more customers. I was told it would be announced on the radio only, and with
no names. The bastard lied as usual.”

She finally snapped her gaze back to mine. Resentment
darkened the brown of her eyes. Her voice came out squeaky through clenched teeth
as if she struggled to keep from exploding. “You’re
assuming
? You mean
you haven’t choked that son of bitch yet? Well screw it. I will. I’m going to
kill that motherf—”

“Melanie,” Henry shouted.

“What?”

“That’ll be enough.”

Melanie ignored him and twisted in her seat to face me. She
gripped the arm of the chair so tightly her knuckles whitened. “How could you
have
ever
married such an ass? It sickens me. And it pisses me off that
you allowed that arrogant idiot to even—”

“You’re fired. Both of you.” Henry slapped a piece of paper
down in front of each of us. I glanced at it, but Melanie’s words hung in my
head, overpowering Henry’s sneering statements.

I swung my knees around so I could face Melanie. She looked
gorgeous with her cheeks flaming red and her eyes shooting daggers at me. Her
mouth was drawn in a snarl, although it still drew my attention and had my own
mouth watering to cover my lips with hers and devour her.

“I married him before I came out. In fact, the ‘arrogant
idiot’ was instrumental in helping me to face who and what I really am. Maybe
in a roundabout way, his actions will be key in helping you to do the same
thing
¼
”

She leaned closer and narrowed her gaze so much that I could
barely see the brilliant color of them. “I. Am. Not. A. Lesbian.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Henry said under his breath. He’d since
leaned back in his chair, hands laced behind his head, and now propped his
fancy shoes on the desk. “The way you two got it on on stage,” he said with a
whistle, “looked to me like you’re both lesbians and
way
into each
other.”

Melanie gasped. “Shut the hell up, Henry.”

He nodded and grinned. “I suppose now that you’re no longer
an employee, you have every right to say what you want to me. Well, let me
clarify…you’ll technically no longer be an employee after Monday, so
that’s
when you can say what you want to me.”

“What?” Melanie croaked.

“What?” I repeated.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you two listening? I
said you’re fired—well, after you complete the Ronson-Monroe wedding reception
this weekend and the Link Electronics conference the following Monday.” He
gestured toward the papers he’d slid in front of us. “These’re your walking
papers, which detail the timeline and what to expect. Beyond Monday, we’ve
provided you with a generous one-month severance package including salary and
benefits. When December is up, you’re cut off.”

I snapped up the paper and scanned it. “You call one month
‘generous’?”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe this,” Melanie groaned
and slumped in her seat. But she didn’t slump long. Instead, she sat up ramrod
straight and pointed a finger in my face. “This is all your fault, Leslee. All
your fault. You’ve ruined my career. This’ll follow me from city to city,
reference to reference and all across the damn internet. I’ll never achieve my
GM aspirations now, and all because I agreed to help a supposed
friend
pull off a stupid lesbian contest.”

“Didn’t look to me like you thought it was ‘stupid’,” Henry
said with a sardonic sneer. He jiggled his eyebrows and rewound the DVR so it
would play the contest over again. “See there? Looks more like you were
both
totally into each other. I’d say you’re either an excellent actress, or you’re
gay but still in the closet.”

I slapped my hand on the paper, wadded it up and shot to my
feet. “Fuck you, Henry. I’m already out. Have been since my divorce. Where the
hell have you been? Holed up in this posh office here with your head up your
ass or your hand down your pants?”

Henry’s thin nostrils flared. “You have no right to speak to
me that way.”

“I’d say she does.” Melanie stood next to me and folded her
arms under her chest in a huff. “I mean, who are you to her anymore? You’re not
her boss. You’re not her friend. So I say lay it on him, Leslee.”

He frowned and thumbed through his desktop calendar. “Um,
no. I’m delaying your being fired for now. Monday, remember? Yeah, I’m both of
your bosses until Monday.
Then
you can feel free to lay all you want on
me.”

Although Melanie’s earlier anger had hurt like a stab in the
gut, her current alliance soothed that pain and gave me hope and a growing
sense of power against this egotistical ex-boss.

“Screw Monday, screw the Ronson-Monroe wedding reception,
screw the Link Electronics conference and screw
you
, Henry.” I ripped up
the paper and sprinkled the pieces across his desk.

Melanie followed my lead and did the same with her walking
papers. “Yeah, what she said.”

Henry shot to his feet, his big leather chair clunking
against the fancy credenza behind his desk. He was so short he had to look up
at us both. “You goddamn disgusting lesbian bitches. If I’d have known you were
gay, I’d never have hired you.” He pointed to the door. “Get out of my sight.
Now! And don’t either of you
ever
step foot in my hotel again, you got
that?”

A vague knot of dread tightened in my belly. Pussycat’s
teetered on possible bankruptcy, so I’d cut my salary there to help prevent or
at best delay the process and pay off some creditors. With the exception of my
savings, my salary from the hotel was all I really had to pay my own rent and
expenses.

What would I do now?

Well, it was too late. I could’ve used that severance, but
I’d already let my temper get the best of me and backed myself into a corner. I
had a fleeting moment of considering apologizing and begging for my job back,
or at least the severance, but Melanie stopped me from groveling.

“Fine by me. Good riddance. And oh, by the way, Henry, good
luck on that wedding and conference.” She lifted her pert nose, sniffed with a
haughty air and marched in quick, clicky steps to the door. “On those days, be
sure and leave that expensive suit at home and wear your waiter’s apron
instead. Come on, Leslee, let’s get the hell out of this dweeb’s precious
hotel.”

I shot one last look at Henry. He had his hands on his hips
and that “aw, shit, I hadn’t thought of that” look on his face.

I said a few parting words. “Thank you for the opportunity
to work for Starling. But I’ll have to agree with her. Good riddance.”

I spun on my heels and followed her down the corridor. She
looked damn good in that tight skirt, hips swaying, long hair bouncing with her
quick steps. I did my best to catch up with her, stumbling a time or two on the
stupid heels.

“Melanie. Wait,” I called out to her.

She didn’t stop, turn or make any indication that she heard
me. She just kept barreling right on to the employee door and shoved it open.

I finally caught up to her in the parking lot just when she
reached her car. I closed my hand around her arm and tugged until she faced me.

“What?” she growled, avoiding my gaze.

“I’m sorry, Mel. Real sorry. I never meant for any of this
to happen.” Emotions bombarded me, regret, sorrow, anger, panic that I was
losing her before I’d even had her. And oddly enough, elation that I got this
opportunity to stand this close to her, to smell her perfume, to see her one
last time and etch her beautiful face in my mind.

She readjusted her briefcase strap on her shoulder and
cleared her throat. Her breath came out in a white cloud of fury and disgust.
“Yeah, well me too, I guess.”

Flakes of snow fell on her eyelashes and with the
streetlamps slanting over her eyes, it softened her irises so they glittered
like gold ornaments on a Christmas tree. Her cheeks and lips were pink, though
I didn’t know if it was from anger, the cold or makeup. I thought back on that
intimate moment when she’d painted my face before the contest. It brought a
flood of desire to my lower belly, but I could tell by her aloofness that she
wasn’t experiencing the same thing. No, it wasn’t exactly the right time to
explore this drug in my veins further.

“Could you
¼
Would
you come have coffee with me somewhere?”

She shook her head.

“A shot of tequila?” I asked, not liking the pathetic,
desperate tone in my voice.

She continued to avoid my gaze, yet when she clamped her
lower lip between her teeth in indecision, hope assailed me. It didn’t last
long, though. My hopes were dashed when she tugged her arm from my hold, pulled
open her car door and climbed in.

As she started the engine and leaned out to grab the door
handle, she said, “No thanks. I need to go home and work on my résumé. And
start packing since no hotels within a hundred miles of here will hire me after
seeing that report.”

I folded my arms and stepped back. Her words weighed heavy
on my heart because it was my fault she was forced to redo her résumé and
because it indicated she’d be moving.

“Melanie, please. I’m sorry, so sorry. Please don’t leave.
Please, can we just talk this over and figure out a way to—”

“Goodbye, Leslee.” She slammed the door and drove away,
tires crunching on snow.

I stood there shivering, watching until her car turned the
corner and disappeared from view. God, how my chest hurt. I swallowed a lump of
emotion and swiped at the tears that spilled over my cheeks. Damn it, I should never
have gotten involved with a hetero woman. It always spelled disaster for a true
lesbian.

I punched the unlock button on my key ring, climbed in my
car and started the engine. But I couldn’t stop myself from falling over the
steering wheel and sobbing like a wretched, lovesick teen.

Because I knew I would take her back in a second, hetero or
not.

Chapter Seven

Melanie: The Truth Comes Out of the Closet

It was early in the morning one day after nearly three weeks
had passed. I still couldn’t find a job and I had no idea what I was going to
do. Every hotel I applied to either ignored my application or verified, “Aren’t
you that woman who was on the news dirty dancing in that lesbian bar?”

The vacation pay I’d accrued was enough to cover my expenses
for now, but it wouldn’t last forever. I contemplated cashing in the modest
trust fund my father had willed to me, but I needed to verify if I’d take a tax
hit, which I couldn’t afford. Besides, I’d always sworn that I would only use
it for an investment, not drain it for day-to-day expenses.

I widened my circle and sent out applications to hotels in
cities in other states. Chicago, St. Louis, Memphis, Denver and even Tampa and
Dallas. Why not? I had nothing left here. My father had passed away almost two
years ago and left the farm to Savanah. I had no other family in the area, and
Kaydee was so wrapped up in Savanah, I might as well be dead.

But the thing that kept nagging at me and making me drag my
feet was that I couldn’t seem to get Leslee out of my head. The image of her
standing there in that parking lot with snow falling on her dark hair and the
chill of the night pinkening her cheeks would be emblazoned in my brain
forever. She’d looked beautiful and vulnerable all at once, and yet that streak
of underlying strength that made Leslee, Leslee, had still been there
¼
though hanging by a thread. In that split
second before I’d slammed the door and taken off, I’d come so close to leaping
out of my car and taking her in my arms. I knew she had to be hurting too, and
I knew her apology and regret at getting me involved in her mess was sincere.

Yet my usual selfish nature and my damnable pride had seized
me and I’d sped off in my typical dramatic fashion. The regret of my actions
compounded as each day passed. It sat heavy in my gut as if I’d gorged on some
disgusting meal that my body couldn’t digest. I slept later and later each day
following nights of insomnia plagued by thoughts of Leslee and how well we’d
fit together, how consumed I’d been with passion and emotion when I was in her
arms.

And the orgasms. Mm yes, I couldn’t deny that a climax
satisfied me more while holding a warm, soft body in my arms than it did with a
hairy, arrogant man—or at least
trying
to get to an orgasm with a man.
Or using a plastic buzzing toy held to my pussy while all alone in my big bed
night after night after night.

That evening when I’d forgotten about Tom, I’d found him
still waiting at the restaurant. All I had to do was look at him in all his
geekiness and I’d known he wasn’t for me, especially not with Leslee’s flavor
still on my tongue and her scent surrounding me like a misting of perfume. The
relief that had washed over me when I’d broken it off with him had been so
freeing.

So right.

But what was I? A heterosexual woman who at twenty-seven
just hadn’t met the man of my dreams yet,
the
man who could bring me to
orgasm? A confused bisexual woman who had yet to experience mind-blowing sex
with a man but
had
found it with my first woman? Or was I really a
tried-and-true lesbian like Kaydee and Savanah?

And most of all, did it really matter? Was it even necessary
to label myself one way or the other? Either you fit with a person or not. What
difference did their gender make, or your preferences?

The questions plagued me minute by minute, week by week. The
engulfing despair grew larger and colder, dragging me into its dark pit. I shut
off my phone and refused to answer my door—I was certain the distant knocks
were Savanah and Kaydee, and I imagined my voicemail overflowed with concerned
calls from them. But I simply couldn’t claw my way out of the abyss. I couldn’t
eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t pack worth a shit. When I did muster any energy,
I tossed things in boxes without regard for organization or neatness, making
Saucy scurry off and hide. I’d become a pathetic robot with no future, a
present that surrounded me with surreal misery, and a past I couldn’t bear to
reflect on.

But even amid all the mental chaos, my thoughts kept
shifting back to Leslee and our amazing lovemaking. I couldn’t deny that it had
felt right, that I had never experienced such exciting closeness with anyone in
my entire life, including my ex-husband during our pre-marriage days. All I
could recall with him was awkward, anticlimactic intimacy that never failed to
disappoint me. What a fool I’d been to ignore that very important red flag and
allow myself to say “I do”.

Apparently, the “trauma” of finding Kaydee and Savanah in
bed together after leaving Will behind on our honeymoon had jolted my
subconscious into denial mode. From that moment on, I’d made a point to date
unattractive men to give myself a valid reason to avoid intimacy with them. All
the while I’d kept a curious eye on Kaydee and Savanah’s growing, loving
relationship and fought the envy and loneliness that resulted from it. I could
look back now, even as I sat here curled up on my sofa in my cold apartment,
and admit that I’d loved my job simply because I looked forward to spending
time with Leslee. I thrived on the attention she gave me, and while I never
would have admitted it back then, I could see now that she’d been drawn to me
from the start, and in a way that transcended supervisor or friend.

“Oh my gawd.” I slapped my hand over my gaping mouth,
muffling my voice. “I knew she was falling in love with me all along. I allowed
it, even encouraged it. And I got
off
on it.”

I swallowed a thick lump and whispered, “Have I really been
denying who I am all this time?”

Still, I couldn’t be for sure. On a whim, I shot to my feet
and eyed the entertainment center. I dodged boxes, made my way to the cabinet
and searched for a porno DVD—specifically one that I knew had both women and
men in it with scenes of a male and female making love, as well as separate
scenes featuring women only. I slid the movie in the DVD player and grabbed the
remote.

Will had bought the flicks and often brought them over,
insisting our sex life was suffering and we needed to spice things up. I let
the movie previews play while I recalled those dreaded nights of endless sex
void of emotion on Will’s part and orgasms on mine. The only time I could ever
come was if he did oral on me while I fantasized and replaced him with a hot
chick, just like in the videos.

Immediately afterward, I’d bury my humiliation and
overcompensate with enthusiastic lovemaking that still ended with an empty hole
in my soul and heart. I closed my eyes when a thought occurred to me
¼

Though Will’s infidelity on our honeymoon had been shocking
and unforgivable, maybe I had contributed to it? Could it be that I should take
at least
some
of the responsibility for our marriage failing before it
had barely begun?

I fought off my natural reaction of outrage and pity and
knew it was true. Will had always been a player, but my sexual-identity
confusion had been there too.

I laughed out loud. “Ha. We didn’t stand a chance from the
beginning anyway. A narcissistic playboy and a sexually confused, selfish woman
hiding in her big damn closet.”

I shook my head and accepted the weight of it as the movie
began to play with the usual cheesy music and stilted dialogue.
Let’s see
how my heart, emotions and body react to it
¼

It started off with a man kissing a woman. Their clothes
were gone within a minute flat. I’d learned there were two typical male
porn-star types—the kind where he had the beginnings of a beer belly and a
corny mustache, or the undeniably handsome type on steroids who could manhandle
and flip the chick over one-handed.

This man was definitely the latter.

His swollen cock was impressive in size, intimidating to any
woman. I focused on his erection and his body and his aroused reactions to her.

But it did nothing for me.

Nothing.

Just indifference coupled with a vague sense of repulsion.

Why had I not seen it before, or admitted it?

I continued with my self-testing. My gaze shifted to her.

Curvy, soft, beautiful.

Her skin shone golden beneath the set lighting. Now that I’d
had a real taste of a woman, my palms tingled at the remembered sensation of my
hands dragging over silky flesh. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back.
Layers around her gorgeous face framed it, emphasizing the contorted expression
of ecstasy. Her nipples were erect and the fullness of her breasts bounced as
he pounded into her from behind. Close-up shots of his glazed cock slipping in
and out of her perfect, shaven pussy had my mouth watering, my own pussy
warming and getting wetter by the second. I propped my feet on the coffee table
and slid my hand down my belly until I reached my wet cunt. I had no problem
picturing myself in place of him with a dildo strapped to my waist and hips, my
hands gripping her hips and fucking her, the smell of her juices wafting up to
tempt me.

“Ah yes,
that’s
why I didn’t see it or admit it
before now.” Because my lackluster arousal with men, contrasted with my swift
fascination and arousal with women, had always been too stark, too obvious for
my ego to accept.

So I avoided it and women, and compensated by constantly
dating men, sleeping with them and searching for that one person who would
prove my subconscious wrong and prevent me from accepting the truth. I looked
for a man who could turn me into a nympho and bring me to orgasm. Yet after my
traumatic experience with Will, I had always migrated toward boring men like
Tom, ones who would prevent my heart from becoming obligated to anyone.

Meanwhile, I’d let my eyes rove to women.

To Leslee.

My boss—another defense mechanism that had kept me from
admitting to the truth.

I circled my hard clit with my fingertip, keeping my gaze on
the woman in the video. But the camera kept flipping to the man and putting out
my fire, so I forwarded to the chick-on-chick scene. A naked strawberry blonde
and brunette embraced and kissed each other with tender tongue explorations and
lip sucking. Nipples grazed nipples, their pussies grinded together, eliciting
moans and growls from both women.

“Mm-hmm, yes, there we go.” My lower belly quickened and
warm cream trickled out of my pussy. I circled the opening with my finger,
transferred the moisture to my clit and gave the nub a quick flicker of rubs,
causing my breathing to turn to short panting. I lifted my hips and thrust in a
swivel motion against my finger. An animal-like moan escaped my throat. It
didn’t sound like the me who had been with men.

It sounded like the me who had made amazing love with
Leslee.

I could admit that now, and the admission, along with the
unfettered tone of my voice intermingling with the women in the video, sent me
to that same level of excitement I could only reach in the past when
fantasizing about making love with a female.

My gaze remained on the hot chicks—hell, I couldn’t look
away even if a bomb dropped. But as they did a sexy maneuver into a sixty-nine
position, my mind replayed the time weeks ago when I’d engaged in the same with
Leslee. I licked my lips and could almost taste her juices, feel the satiny
folds on my tongue, smell her musky scent.

The women curled together in a similar side-lying clench,
hungrily eating each other’s pussies while receiving oral pleasure. I could now
relate to the bliss of it. I didn’t have to imagine it as I had before hooking
up with Leslee. That knowledge sped up my pleasure and brought me to the
pre-threshold of orgasm faster than any toy ever had. I slid my feet wider on
the coffee table when the women started finger-fucking each other.

I curled forward, slid two fingers from my free hand into my
dripping cunt and pumped myself deep and fast. In my mind, it was Leslee’s
pussy I fucked and her clit I rubbed in a frenzy, yet at the same time, it was
Leslee fucking and playing with me. We were wound together in that never-ending
circle of pleasure again, just like we’d been that night, just like the women
in the video.

“Oh god. Oh my god
¼
”
My teeth grinded together. I struggled to keep my eyes open and on the TV. But
I sucked in a hiss and squeezed my eyes shut as the orgasm pulsated through my
system and racked my entire body in nearly unbearable ecstasy. My pussy spasmed
around my fingers, cream oozed onto my palm and the aroma of sex drifted up and
teased my nostrils.

“Leslee, mmmm Leslee
¼
”
I screamed out her name before I realized it was me.

I want you, I miss you, I need you.

The orgasm ebbed and I slumped on the couch, trying to catch
my breath. Wow. Not only had I accepted the weight of having hidden in that
closet, but now after watching this video and fantasizing about Leslee for the
first time since that night weeks ago, I realized I’d opened the door. And
opening the door did the opposite—it lifted that weight from my soul.

Light slanted through that metaphorical door and filled my
heart with brighter, clearer days ahead. My eyes stung with tears of relief and
happiness. I stood and hit the remote button to eject the movie from the DVD.
The TV switched to a local affiliate reporting the news. I gasped at what met my
eyes and ears.

“Our sources confirm that Bard’s Holdings has purchased the
controversial lesbian bar and grill, Pussycat’s, co-owned by former
husband-and-wife team Charles Snyder and Leslee Franks.” The reporter’s brown
bob hairstyle didn’t move when she lifted her chin and tilted her head. She
pursed her lips. “Bard’s has been known in the Louisville and surrounding areas
for their anti-gay stance and plans to buy out all gay businesses.”