you being a snob again. Why can't you tell them you discovered I'm a writer, and we simply became friends as a result?'
“No. They would expect me to mentor you but not to be your friend. I wouldn't even care if they knew I had a friend who is a janitor, but they wouldn't stop there. They would want to know more, or they would think they already knew, and word would get around, and suddenly I'm out of a job. I'm not going there. I worked too hard for this. I have too much to lose.'
I could see by her heightened color that she was getting very agitated, but we had come too far to turn back. “So it comes down to choosing basically to be your slave in private, or be nothing,” I summed it up.
Lynn shook her head and reached for my hand again. I let her. “Jane, you're not just my slave. We are friends and lovers put in a nasty position by society. There are a lot of things we can't do, it's true! But why not concentrate on and enjoy what we can share?'
I moved my chair around to sit next to her. “Lynn, I told you I wasn't living a lie anymore. Lucille and lots of others got over this fear and you can, too, or else you move on to where you don't have to be afraid. I'll gladly move to another school so it isn't as obvious, and we can emphasize my writing over my day job. There must be a safe job for you somewhere.'
“No! I'm established here. I've arrived. This is where I want to be; this is where I'm a woman of substance. I have authority, autonomy and a reputation I'm not going to give up. Accept it, or don't!'
She threw down her napkin and stood up. “I think you'd better go now. I have work to do.” Her eyes blazed at me.
“Okay, I'll go. You're angry and upset, but we did have to discuss it. Maybe we can work something out,” I tried offering an olive branch. “There must be some way we can take our relationship out of the closet and bring it to the next level.'
Lynn was heading for the door to show me out. “I honestly don't see, at this point, how I can change enough to suit your gay-rights crusading mentality. I'm not even a lesbian. I'm just in love with you. Or, I was!” She yanked the door open.
I shoved it shut again. “I'm in love with you, too, Lynn. Let's take some time to cool off. We can try again later, okay?” Jesus! Here she was ending it and I had just slept in her house!
“Let me make it clear: this relationship continues on my terms or not at all! Is that understood? When you're ready to accept that, let me know. Now, please excuse me.” With that, she opened the door and I went out. I got into my car and drove home in a daze, and when I got inside my house, I sat on the floor with Sallie and Jay and I cried into their fur until I couldn't cry anymore.
Chapter Seventeen
I cried all weekend, too. When I thought of having to see her at work, I was panic-stricken, so when Monday dragged around, I took a personal day and went to the county employment offices where I applied for several openings in other schools. I went online and through the newspaper looking for boring, undemanding jobs with benefits that asked nothing of me beyond a 40-hour week. I applied for as many as I could by phone, fax and e- mail.
Of course, Lynn didn't call me and I didn't call her. I wanted to. I picked up the phone over and over, and then I imagined how our conversation would go. Either we would have the same fight again, or I would concede to all her demands and still be utterly convinced she didn't love me. So I put the phone down again.
On Tuesday at school, I asked if I could change to the early shift so I could avoid taking down the flag. That turned out to be impossible, so I got one of the guys to switch jobs with me and arranged to water the flower beds instead. Thus, I could avoid the front of the school at 5:30 PM.
Other than that, I hunkered down at home. I didn't write. I slept a lot. I called my friends and cried. Susan said I had pushed Lynn too hard, but I hadn't asked for a commitment, only the equivalent of a date. Susan and I ended up having to agree to disagree. I got a lot more sympathy from Nancy, who invited me to Orlando to hit the lesbian bars with her. Unfortunately, I just wasn't up for that yet. I was afraid of hearing love songs and I didn't want to watch other women in love.
I made up my mind to get out of Windy Ridge High and get Lynn Jeffries out of my heart. It hurt me so bad, I cried myself to sleep every night, and I woke up crying. Lynn was the way she was; nothing would change it. I wasn't going back into the closet; nothing would change that, either. My ultimate goal was apathy toward her. Hatred was too good for her. Too much energy and emotion had to be expended to maintain hatred, and she wasn't worth it. And every once in a while I would kick myself around the house for imagining, even for a minute, that a woman as accomplished and selfish as Lynn could ever really love me.
By the time the weekend arrived, I had myself convinced that Lynn had never intended to do more than play with me until the right man came along. He would be some very quiet and unassuming, yet sexually demanding, Harrison Ford type, as she told me she had always lusted after him until she met me. Like I could compete with that. What a joke! She had just been fooling around with me, trying out her bisexuality on me. Then, when I wasn't willing to take my place next to Paprika, I ended up on the sidewalk, as welcome as a homeless person on the streets of “The Barony.” I was sure that if I stuck around Windy Ridge long enough, I would see or hear that she had acquired my replacement, and I wasn't sure I could handle it.
It was Friday night and I couldn't stand to stay home where she and I had made love and spent hours talking about writing and literature and music when we hadn't been eating each other out.
I went to the dungeon.
After making a reservation for Beverly's last hour, I stayed in the gallery all night. I found I could treat it as a theatrical experience, and amused myself by critiquing the artistry of the performers. I won't say I didn't have a little too much to drink, but I knew Bev wouldn't let me drive after our session if I couldn't.
When it was my turn, I went to Bev and knelt, waiting for her command. I wasn't looking up at her, but I heard her make a noise of surprise. She recovered quickly. “This way, sub,” she grunted.
She led me into one of the private rooms and closed the door. I knelt again, threw my arms around her and cried so hard I thought I was going to throw up.
Bev made all the appropriate, comforting noises, stroking my hair and holding me against her. When I had calmed down slightly, she helped me up and brought me to an armchair where she sat down and pulled me into her lap. There she held me until I had cried myself out. “You didn't have to pay,” she murmured. “You could have called me or come to me anytime.'
“I didn't know what I wanted until I got here.” I hiccupped. “Thanks for understanding.'
She was nice enough not to say, “I told you so.'
“Do you want to make love?” she asked me.
“Oh, yes, please,” I whispered.
“How do you want it?'
I told her. I stripped and she put me down on the mat on my back and opened her pants. She sat on my face, squeezing my ribcage with her booted legs until she climaxed repeatedly on my face.
It was so comfortingly familiar; I managed to lose myself for a while. Bev felt and tasted completely different from Lynn, whom I desperately needed to purge from my system.
“Oh, God, oh, God, Bev,” I muttered into her gushing pussy. By the time she had finished, I felt a lot better.
Bev stretched out on top of me and we lay kissing for a while. When she felt me squirming underneath her, she got up and sat in the chair again. “Bring a stool,” she ordered. I obeyed immediately and sank down onto her leather.
“Jesus!” I groaned. Her boots were so big! She was the largest and strongest woman I had ever seen, let alone made love with, and while she impaled me with her eyes and made me come on her boots, there was nothing and no one else in the world but her. The climaxes tore through me and I screamed and cried. Finally my legs gave way and I fell over.
Bev gave me half a minute to collect myself before she said, “Lick them.” I crawled back and did as she commanded, still crying but by now they were tears of gratitude and relief, not utter, abject misery. Somewhere
