“Friends of mine, but there’s a big organic chemistry test tomorrow so they’re studying.” She turns to face me.
“We made a delicious blood orange drink fresh this morning.” She bends over to search inside a small refrigerator under a long wooden table against the wall. Another invitation. There is just a flick of a skirt on this girl.
I press myself against her as she rises and I hold the hair at the nape of her neck. The front catch of her bra unsnaps. She leans back against me. I lick her neck. I don’t want to see her face when I do this.
I twist her nipple to see if she likes it rough. She cries out and pulls back at my hair. Good. Same page. “Do you ever wear panties?” I lift up her skirt from behind, and feel her warm and wet, and waiting for me.
“When it’s cold outside. But it’s not today, is it?”
“I like it.” I press Nadia harder against the table and rhythmically slide in and out of her. When I close my eyes it’s almost not her. Then, it’s not her at all.
Woodshed sex and for a southerner – I didn’t think she’d be so squeamish about it, but Tina claimed it was because she knew what lived in the corners that were dark.
“But Baby,” I had said to Tina that summer in Provincetown, “we’re not going into the corners. Just kiss me standing right here.” And she had, and then, we’d made love against the gardener’s bench behind the playwright’s house. The smell of summer, warm earth and Tina. I remember now.
God, I am so pissed at her not being here. My mind comes back to the present.
Fuck! What am I doing? But my body and my animal mind are far into this and rough.
“I so didn’t expect you to be like this.” Nadia leans her head back to kiss me. “May I call you, Bette?” When I hesitate she tries to bite at my neck.
An hour later –
I rip open my dry cleaning and kick off my shoes for the pair that go with my dress. Arnold will make a comment about my legs, he always does. For some reason he thinks that it’s okay to compliment in detail that part of a woman’s anatomy as opposed to any other. And I should say all the way up and in the way he means it. I wonder what he says to women who are shorter? Probably, nothing at all. He really does seem like a Leg Man to me.
James has gone ahead to the venue to troubleshoot any pre-event mishaps that may be waiting. My office door is closed but not locked, and on it taps Phyllis who then strolls right into my temporary changing room.
“You’re going to be late, Bette.” Phyllis taps at her watch. “Busy day?”
“Phyllis, just close the door. I’m dressing in here for the party.” I slip on a black with gold threaded cocktail dress and high heels. Arnold again comes into my mind.
“I just don’t know how you do it, Bette?”
“What’s that Phyllis?” I ask as I throw my hair out full and then run my hands through it to catch it all back again. My idea of on the run brushing.
“Work all day and look gorgeous? I don’t know how you do it. I really want to be a lesbian, Bette.”
“No, you don’t, Phyllis. Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I think Alice is going to teach me.” Phyllis says obviously not listening to me. “We’re having lesbian sushi tomorrow night. Ever had it?” Phyllis watches me take one pair of earrings off as another pair slips on. “Oh, of course, you have. You probably eat it all the time, don’t you?”
“Phyllis, could you hand me that bottle of water in my briefcase? I’ve got to take some aspirin.”
The next story is titled, “A Taste For Politics” . Senator Barbara Grisham still has her eye on Bette after meeting her in Washington during a Senate hearing on the NEA.
More Bette Porter Tina Kennard L Word behind the scenes stories to follow.
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