General Copyright Disclaimer:
The following story is an original piece of fiction. Any similarities between these characters and persons in real life are purely coincidental. This work of fiction is copyright (c) TZ. Words from the song Essence by Lucinda Williams are used with much respect, although without permission.
Content Disclaimer
This story is rated PG-13 for sexual situations.
This story contains themes and descriptions of a loving, sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. This story is intended for a mature audience with an open mind. If it is illegal for you to read this story for any reason at all, please close this web page and find something that is legal for you to read.
Your opinion would be greatly appreciated. I can be reached via email at TZ.
It Was a Simple Kiss
By TZ
Copyright June 29, 2001
It was supposed to be a simple kiss, one to satisfy my curiosity. I only wanted to know what her lips would feel like against my own. She hardly smiled that night that I first saw her at a different club. Her lips had been full and pouty, a succulent bow on a somber present.
I saw her again at another club in another town almost a year later. When I saw her on the other side of the bar that second night, I was in shock, I think; my mouth became dry and the noise around me faded to a dull hum. I wondered why she was there. I knew how much she liked to dance, for I had watched her for hours that first night as she moved her body in ways that brought erotic poetry to my lips unmoved by a wave of unbelievable shyness.
But tonight, there was no real dance floor, no mirrors in which she could study her own seductive movements. So I was curious as to what brought her here and once more, the urge to feel the pressure of her lips against mine sent my mind into a dizzying spin.
I had gone to the club to meet some friends that I had met online in a local gay chat room. It was the first time that I had met any of them and keeping their real life names matched to their online names had become hopeless as more joined the group. Their humor and easy laughter was slowly drawing me out of my usually shy self until she walked in.
Immediately, the woman with whom I’d been discussing some new software noticed my lack of attention and saw where my eyes were intensely focused. She laughed at me and told me the name of the object of my distraction. She had once been one of the regulars of our small group of chatters. At first, the connection did not register. Thinking about her lips, my mind was not able to process any other information. But as she drew closer to our group and smiled softly at me, her online name echoed through my brain.
There’s something you have to know about me at this point. I am very shy in real life. Online, however, behind the anonymity of my monitor and keyboard, I’m something of a flirt. Well, okay, I’m an outrageous flirt. It’s all in fun, though, and I’m sure to make that obvious right from the start. Being hurt a few times by cyber entanglements made me very cautious about affairs over the modem.
Only those that had chatted with me one on one in private rooms or on any of the message programs that I have, know that I’m really not as wild as I portray myself in the rooms. The truth of the matter is that I’m pretty boring. Just being out of the closet for a few years and too shy to approach women, I guess I just hadn’t found that rowdy lesbian inside of me yet.
So, as the night wore on and everyone was progressively getting drunk and the cameras became tools of blackmail in the hands of the designated drivers, I sat at one end of the long table while she sat at the other. Occasionally, our eyes would meet across its length and my mind would slowly replay every conversation that I could remember between us.
She was one of the ones that had chatted with the real me. I had even sent her a picture of myself, which was something that I rarely did, not feeling entirely comfortable with the intimacy of it. She knew that my life was fairly straightforward and dull. She knew my schedule – work in the office nine to five during the week, chat in the evening after errands, chores, and a microwave dinner. She knew that I shut my computer down and unplugged the phones for one hour on Sunday so that I could watch Xena: Warrior Princess without interruption. She knew that the most daring thing that I’d ever done was drive for an entire two days while my gas gauge was hovering over empty.
I just didn’t see myself as an interesting person. Sure, I could talk about a large variety of subjects, I loved music and I loved words even more. But there was nothing truly special about me. The only slightly redeeming quality about myself that I could list, was that I could write a pretty good story and an even better poem.
She knew all of this about me. We had talked for a few hours all by ourselves one Friday night when all the other chat regulars were out partying. I had never seen a picture of her, nor did I care what she looked like. I wasn’t looking for a relationship at the time, all I wanted was someone with whom I could talk easily and honestly. We hit it off well that night and for a couple of weeks afterwards, we would always spend a few hours in private discussion, asking about each other’s days and waxing philosophic about the nature of life. When I stopped seeing her in the chat room because of our opposing work schedules, I realized just how much I’d come to enjoy our bit of time spent together.
After a few drinks, the irony of the whole situation hit me good. The first two years after coming out to my family, my romantic history was basically hit and miss big time I could never find a woman that was a down-to-earth homebody that liked to curl up on the couch with popcorn and a movie instead of going out to party or getting high. Of course, as my sister once told me, “It’s not like you can reach inside of your monitor and touch them or look into their eyes and see their soul. You need to get out and meet people instead of hiding behind your desk at home.”
The first time that I took her advice, I saw a beautiful dancer that left me aching for her touch. Almost a year later, I realized that I was staring at that dancer as she was walking towards me, a half-smile tilted on her luscious lips. She bent slightly as she reached me to whisper into my ear. Even with the din of the loud music and even louder crowd around us, her words were like thunder rolling in my head.
“Come dance with me.”
I had the distinct feeling of being outside of my body just then. I could see myself doing a damn good impression of a deer caught in headlights. My lips were numb and could not move them to deny her request. I could feel the sweat starting to trickle down my sides.
Gently, she reached for my hand and pulled me up out of my seat. Standing next to each other, I saw that she was even shorter than me by an inch or two and I know that I was still staring at her lips, not that I would have been brave enough to actually look her in the eyes. The words I wanted to say were tripping over themselves inside my befuddled brain. I wanted to tell her that I couldn’t dance and that she’d probably leave the dance floor with two broken feet if she went through with this plan. I was silent, though, as she guided me away from the hoots and whistles of our friends that stayed behind.
When we reached the dance floor, a mere clearing among the tables, she took me to the furthest corner and smiled softly at me. Her body seemed to melt into mine as she put her arms around me. I could feel her warm breath against my cheek as she whispered to me once more.
“Just close your eyes and let your body take over,” she said.
I think I shivered when her lips brushed against my ear as she spoke. Slowly, I raised my arms from my sides and for a moment, awkwardly searched for a comfortable way to hold her. At last, I had her in my arms, holding her loosely as her body moved against mine. I was grateful that she had chosen a slow song. I could fake moving in time to one of those better than I could to keep up with a more energetic dance song.
I did as she told me. I closed my eyes and just tried to pretend that I wasn’t out on that dance floor with the woman that had fueled many a late night of solitary pleasure for several months after first seeing her.
Then, without even realizing that it was happening, I started to feel things besides my own fear or the blush that had been heating my face. I could have blamed it on the alcohol, but I’m not that much of a drinker and the buzz I had going just then was mild compared to what she was doing to me.
I was becoming intoxicated by her. Her hair, wisps of which caressed my cheek, smelled of lavender. Her perfume was light and fresh. Her body, though small, was firm of flesh and muscle. Before long, my shyness was overcome by desire, and my body began moving of its own accord.
I pulled her closer to me, pressing our breasts together; our pelvises bumped and then began rubbing against each other as we moved. One arm drifted down to her lower back, pulling her hips tighter into me. The other wrapped around her shoulder so that my short nails could tease the delicate skin on the back of her neck.
I knew that I was breathing heavy despite the slow movement. Or perhaps that was the reason was why I was breathing so hard. Maybe I had just gone way too long without another body against mine in passion.
A soft moan was drawn from my throat when her lips began moving against my ear again as she started to quietly sing the words to the song only for me.
I am waiting here for more
I am waiting by your door
I am waiting on your back steps
I am waiting in my car
I am waiting at this bar
I am waiting for your essence
The soulful throatiness of her voice mixed with that of Lucinda Williams’ started my heart pounding even harder than before. When she pulled back, I finally raised my face to hers, studying her expression so intently that I thought my head would explode. I saw in her eyes the same hunger that I had been feeling ever since Fate had landed me in that crowded dance club.
“I do remember you,” she said as her fingers began to softly wander across my face. “You bought me that drink at the Low Down and never came over to talk to me, even after I sat there alone, waiting for you. I thought that you’d changed your mind about me, so I never mentioned it to you… that it was me that night.”
I tried to talk, but had to clear a lump from my throat first. “I wanted to come over and talk to you,” I nearly stuttered as I lowered my eyes from hers. I felt her gentle touch under my chin and obeyed it, looking at her once more. “I’m just…”
She put a finger to my lips to hush me then. She studied me for what I’m sure was only a second or two, but what seemed like a lifetime. “You really are shy,” she said with wonderment. “You need to get over that, you know. How else would women know what an incredible catch you are?”
I raised an eyebrow to rival my Warrior Princess idol, much to her humor, for she laughed and shook her head. She knew that my life was more like Walter Mitty’s rather than some fantastic romance novel.
“The silent, romantic butch,” she whispered, “so full of passion and poetry… and too cute to be single.”
My mind automatically contradicted each word as they fell from her lips, but my body could not deny her intentions as her face slowly neared mine. I felt as though a train wreck was slowly taking place inside of my head. Sirens and whistles started going off, and my world narrowed to her beautiful lips that were just shy of touching mine. Hers tickled mine when she repeated a line from the song to which we were still dancing.
“Baby, sweet baby, I wanna feel your breath.”
I was sure mine had stopped. My lungs refused to function. But again, my body took over naturally when the rest of me was tied in knots. With the slightest of pressure against the back of her head, I pulled her mouth to my yearning lips for that first taste. That ambrosia of which I had dreamed of for so long was unbelievably going to be mine, if just for a heartbeat.
Slowly, my lips began to play upon hers, fitting so perfectly right and then sliding away to refit and reshape. Whatever shyness I had felt with her before was obliterated by the fire that was racing through my veins then. I wrapped her fully in my arms, our bodies pressing together as one, still moving to the slow beat of the song.
I think I growled then, I’m not sure. It could have been the roar that had been in my head since she walked into the club. But for a second while our lips were separated, I felt her mumble something of which I could not hear a word. I was too focused on her mouth moist and full, as I fell upon it once more. No longer in control of my own actions, I sighed as my tongue slipped between her willing lips and wrapped sensuously around hers.
So there I was, in a crowded club, forgetting how shy I was as I fulfilled the only real desire I’d had in a long time. I was soulfully kissing a woman I’d barely met once and yet, one with whom I’d shared the very secrets of my heart. I shuddered with a bolt of ache that was like lightening behind my closed eyes I felt as though I were dying in that cocoon of melting passion that we had created around ourselves.
I knew that no matter how the night ended, how my life ended for that matter, that those few minutes with her on the dance floor were going to be definitive ones that I would remember for the rest of my life.
When the song ended, we were still kissing hungrily until someone nudged us with a good natured joke about finding a room. My eyes were heavy and hooded as I came back to my senses and reluctantly ended the kiss. I stepped back from her and licked at the moisture she had left on my lips.
She took my hand and led me back to our friends, to my seat. Instead of going back to her seat, though, which was conveniently occupied, she pulled up another chair beside me. We sat and talked the rest of the night, our heads bent towards each other to better hear one another and to irresistibly steal kisses that had our friends cooing over a new love match.
I had no idea where things were going with her, but for that night, I was not questioning the temporary fortune. The walls could have collapsed around us, but I would never had noticed, for I was memorizing anew the taste and feel of her mouth each time our words were interrupted by the urge for a simple kiss.
~<<>>~<<>>~<<>>~<<>>~
It’s been so long since that night on the dance floor, wrapped up in a fantasy that came true. I never have forgotten it, but I think it was the song that came on the radio that brought it so vividly back to life for me. “And oldie, but a goodie,” the DJ on the radio called it. I almost wanted to run to the bathroom to check for gray hairs.
Instead, I stood at the kitchen counter, trying to cut vegetables for a salad, humming the first strains of the song. Eventually, though, I laid the knife carefully on the cutting board and closed my eyes. I was reliving every second of that first kiss until something nudged me out of my reverie, just as it had happened before.
I looked over my shoulder to see Ginnie standing behind me. Her swollen belly was lightly pressed against my back. Without awkwardness or shyness, I smoothly turned and dipped down to a knee to kiss our first child, expected to be born in another month. The baby responded to my words of love with another kick and Ginnie laughed huskily.
“Someone is going to be spoiled rotten,” she said as she looked at me with more love that I ever expected to find from a girlfriend or, surprisingly enough, a partner.
I was lost in her now just as much as I was that night long ago. I stepped behind her to wrap my arms around her below her breasts and started leading her in a dance. Ten years with a dancer will teach one how to move with some grace eventually, especially if your body aches for contact with hers as much as mine does for Ginnie’s.
My lips were soft and lingering upon her cheek as I kissed her and sang to her the song we considered ours. Before long, the salad was forgotten, and she slowly led me through our house to the bedroom we shared. And again, as every time that we meet in a simple kiss, I memorized the feel and taste of her lips as I undressed her, as I made love to her with even more passion than I thought possible.
Lost in our love once more, we were oblivious to the activity in our little den down in the basement. The alerting sound of an incoming instant message was never heard, but we would later laugh over our friend’s words:
ShyPoet (away): Sorry, I’m a bit busy with SweeteeKiss right now. Please leave a msg and I’ll get back to you.
MtnButch: dammit u 2… u’r like bunnies, you know that? do u 2 everrrrrrrr stop? LOL. give me a call, the bunch of us are planning 2 go 2 the low down for the rare wild night out. getting old sucks, dammit. i can’t keep up with these baby dykes any more. let me know if you 2 want 1 more night out before the bun comes out of the oven, cuz we all know that you 2 are already addicted 2 diapers and late night feedings… hahahaha. love u guys.
The End
