Filling The Void
           by Ann Douglas

            Laurel McAlister laid in her bed, staring up at the small crack in the ceiling above her.  Regardless of how long the day had been, the twenty-six year old knew it was going to be one of those nights where sleep just wasn't going to come.  Not for the first time, she made a mental note to stop by the hardware store on the way home to pick up spackle to repair the crack, knowing full well that she would inevitably again forget to do so.  In a way, the tiny crack had become symbolic of her life, the void above her mirroring the empty space next to her in bed.  One that had also been there longer than she cared to remember.   
    

            'Well, I could always get up and make myself a glass of warm milk,'  the short haired redhead thought in reference to her sleeplessness, then discarding the voice in her head as that of her mother speaking. 


            Instead, Laurel opted for her personal remedy for insomnia, one which she was sure her mother rarely, if ever, employed.  Using her feet to kick off the thin sheet that covered her, she laid both hands across the bare skin above her blue baby doll nightie.  With infinite slowness, she began to slide her fingers down across her cloth covered breasts, tweaking each nipple to a pleasing hardness.  Then, extending her fingers as wide as she could, she cupped both breasts and squeezed them softly, letting out a quiet sigh as she did.
 

            Then her hands moved down across her stomach, with her left taking hold of the bottom of her gown and pulling it upward while her right moved further, coming to rest between her legs on the treasure found there.  Gently she rubbed her fingers across the thin material of her panties, her touch producing both a spark within her and a much louder sigh.    


            Up and down she rubbed, stoking that single spark into a small blaze which would, she knew, grow and spread quickly enough.  At the same time, she ran her other hand down the length of her bare leg, lifting it just high enough for her to reach her knee before it began its journey back.  From there it returned back up to her breasts, which she began to alternately squeeze and massage in time to the motion of the hand caressing her pussy.


            Her entire body began to rock back and forth on the bed, the warmth of the fire between her legs spreading out across her body.  She paused for a moment, just long enough to lift off her nightie and toss it to the floor, then grabbed a breast in each hand and squeezed each even more tightly, the nipples below her thumbs now rock hard.


            Releasing their hold on her breasts, both hands worked their way down to the sides of her panties and, raising her bottom just enough to allow her to slide the now damp garment down her legs, soon to find its way to the floor as well.  It only took a heartbeat for her right hand to again find its way to her womanhood, brushing past the small red bush as one, then two fingers slipped inside her. 


            Faster and deeper her fingers moved, even as her other hand danced across her chest with equal speed and dexterity.  Her eyes were tightly closed as her thoughts traveled back in time, to nights not all that long ago when the space next to her on the full sized bed had not been cold and empty. 


            In her mind, the fingers caressing her clit belonged to a lover not seen, as did those enthusiastically plying her flesh.  A lover who soon brought her to the precipice and then, with one last loud cry, sent her hurtling beyond it, triggering the release she'd sought. 


            A release that, while pleasing in its moment, ultimately failed her.  A half hour after her joy, Laurel again found herself staring at the crack on the ceiling, even more wide awake than before and feeling just a bit sorry for herself. 


            "Oh, what the fuck,"  Laurel said to the mocking fissure above her as she rose from bed and, still naked, walked over to the small half desk against the far wall where she kept her laptop.


            Having left the computer on to run its weekly anti-virus scan, it took no time at all to boot up her mail program.  That done, Laurel scanned her inbox, searching for an advertisement she had gotten last month.  Forwarded by her brother's girlfriend, it had slipped by the spam filter that normally deleted such things before she even saw them. 


            When she'd originally read it, Laurel had laughed and wondered if Cecile had meant it as a joke, or was she serious at the suggestion?  Either way, it was an act of desperation in the redhead's eyes – one she really couldn't imagine herself entertaining.  Yet here she was, only a few weeks later, no longer thinking the idea as crazy as she once had. 


            'Bingo!' she thought as she finally located the missive, fearing for a moment that she might have forgottenly deleted it.


            The note carried a link to a site for a company that Cecile's own brother evidently worked for.  Called "Round Robin", they ran weekly speed dating events at a downtown hotel.  With her finger resting on the button on her trackball, Laurel paused for a breath while she considered whether this was really something that she'd want to do.  Then deciding that all she had to lose at the moment was another sleepless hour staring at the ceiling, she clicked on the link and began to read the introductory paragraph at the top page of their web site.   


            By the time she'd reached the last page of the presentation, some twenty minutes later, Laurel was surprised to discover that this whole speed dating idea was much more popular than she'd imagined.  At least based on the number of hits the site displayed, as well as the multiple pages of glowing testimonials.  Of course she took both with the proverbial grain of salt, but they did encourage her to consider the idea more seriously than she might have.          


            The company was surprisingly progressive, dividing their weekly events, held on Wednesday nights, between both gay and straight couples.  The gatherings in the first and third week of the month were set aside for men and women and the second and fourth reserved for just men and women respectively.  The next girls only night, Laurel learned, was this Wednesday.     


            'Well, if I'm going to do this, let's do it,'  she thought, knowing full well that if the event had been a week or more off, she'd have found some way to talk herself out of it. 


            When she brought up the enrollment page, however, the cost of admission almost did that anyway.  She could go out to dinner and a play for what they were charging, she thought, but then reminded herself, what good was that do if she had no one to go with? 


            With only a few days to go to the event, a display on the top of the page announced that there were only three seats left.  A number that suddenly dropped to two as she watched.  


            'I guess I'm not the only one who can't sleep tonight,'  Laurel thought, taking the fact that the event seemed to be just about sold out as a good sign. 


            Pulling her credit card from her wallet on the desk, Laurel entered the number and the rest of her basic information, smiling as the seat counter dropped down to one.  Then she sent the ticket that appeared in her email a few minutes later to her printer, picking up the colorful paper and folding it so that it fit into her wallet. 


            Powering down her computer, Laurel moved back to the bed and pulled the sheet over her again.  She found herself asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.     


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Busy as she was at work, the four days until the event passed rather quickly.  So much so that Laurel decided to use some flex time and left work early on Wednesday to get ready.  Which, in the end, turned out to be fortunate, because it took her most of the afternoon just to decide what to wear.  


            With so little time in which to make a connection with someone, Laurel knew their first impression of her would be key.  The question was, how far could she go without coming across as too brazen?  After all, this was about meeting someone, not just getting laid – well, maybe partly about that, she smiled to herself. 


            She finally narrowed down her choices to two of her favorite outfits.  One was a sleeveless green dress just a bit more daring than the sort she would wear to work.  It was short enough to show off her legs and cut just low enough to display sufficient cleavage to keep someone's attention without being overly obvious. 


            The other selection was a pair of tight jeans that shamelessly hugged the cheeks of her ass and a white peasant blouse that one of her exes had given her as a birthday present a few years back.  Having worn it a number of times since then, Laurel well knew the sort of impression she made in it – especially when she chose to go braless beneath it. 


            After much vacillation, the green dress finally won out.  Tonight, she decided, she wanted the woman on the other side of the table to pay more attention to what she had to say than what she had on display. 


            It took only another quarter hour for her to fix her face, and then she was on her way.  The hotel where the event was held was only a short bus ride away and Laurel arrived about a half hour before it was scheduled to start.  With the ball room the sponsors had reserved not yet open, most of the participants seemed to have found their way to the bar.  Thinking a good drink beforehand was definitely in order, Laurel opted to follow their example.    


            'God, there have to be almost a hundred women here,' Laurel thought as she stepped into the bar and saw the large crowd. 'They can't all be here for the event.'


            Laurel was closer to the mark than she knew.  When the closed doors a short walk away finally opened, she would find a total of fifty-two small tables for two set up, and every one of those seats would be filled.

 

            Sipping her drink, Laurel took in the crowd around her, taking note of the wide diversity.  Unlike in the clubs she occasionally frequented, there didn't seem to be any one type of woman, a fact she quickly decided was a good thing.  Perhaps shaking up the dating pool might be just what she needed.  Too often, when she went out to one of her favorite haunts, not only did she always find the same sort of women, but literally the same women week after week.  Variety, as they say, is supposed to be the spice of life.


            At the stroke of eight, the doors to the ballroom swung open and, under the guidance of a fifty-something woman who seemed to be in charge, the large crowd of women was ushered in.  In a loud clear voice, the woman told everyone to just grab any available seat, it didn't matter where, because they'd be changing tables in a few minutes anyway.


            The announcement drew a few disappointed looks from around the room, from women who, in the mistaken impression that the women they sat with now would be their first date, had quickly sat down with someone who had attracted their interest back in the bar.  Once everyone had taken a seat, the woman, who now identified herself as Madeline, began to explain how the event operated.  


            "We try and make this all as random as possible,"  Madeline began,  "because, as I'm sure you'll learn as we go along, that makes it all the more interesting."


            She went on to explain that in the first box on the main table were small clipboards for everyone in the room.  In the second were pads to go on the clipboards, half of them white, and half  blue.  Those who picked a blue pad would find a single table number in the upper right hand corner and would stay at that table for the duration of the event.  Those who drew a white pad, however, would find a list of table numbers along the right side.  Starting with the one on top, they would move to the next table on the list at the conclusion of each date.


            Laurel listened to the instructions and found herself nodding her head as she did so.  It did seem a fair way to make it all as random as possible. 


            Madeline paused to see if anyone had any questions so far.  When none were asked, she continued. 


            "In front of you on the tables where you are now sitting,"  she said, "you'll find a name sticker."


            Laurel glanced down and sure enough there was one of those 'hello, my name is _____' stickers.


            "Now in addition to your name, first name only please, we'd like you to also put down the three digit number that you were given in your confirmation email,"  Madeline instructed.  "As you each meet someone new, we'd like you to record that number on your pad.  It might sound a bit impersonal at first, but we've found that it actually saves a lot of  time and confusion in the long run."


            Thinking about it, Laurel found herself agreeing.  Poor handwriting, hard to spell names, or simply a commonly shared name were all eliminated by that approach.  The lack of last names would preserve a degree of anonymity for those that wanted it.     


            "Now,"  Madeline added,  "if you meet someone tonight that you'd like to see again, simply check off the box next to where you put down their number at the start of your date.  If that person expresses a desire to see you again as well, then both of you will receive each other's contact information.  If, however, only one of you has expressed an interest, then it's a little bit different.  Only the person whose name was checked off gets the contact information. That way, she has a second chance to consider the person who expressed an interest in her and respond, or not.  We send this information by email, usually within twenty-four hours.  It's all really simple enough."


            This time, one woman did rise with a question, asking why they had to wait until the next day instead of being told right after the end of the event.  Madeline explained that they'd found that sending the information out by email the next day avoids the sort of awkward situation that can develop when only one participant expresses an interest in the other.  The questioner seemed satisfied with the answer and sat back down. 


            "One important item,"  Madeline said as she continued,  "as I'm sure all of you saw on our web page when you signed up, the event is scheduled to run two hours.  I just want to assure you that the time I've spent explaining our rules to you, as well as what it takes to distribute any materials, is in addition to that time.  The clock doesn't start running until we ring the bell for your first date."


            A soft murmur across the room seemed to indicate that more than a few participants had been concerned about just that, the idea that they might not get their full money's worth.   


            "Each date runs eight minutes,"  Madeline said,  "a time we arrived at based on feedback from previous events, that five minutes was too short for a good date and ten too long for a bad one."


            That brought a few laughs from around the room. 


            "So if you'll all just line up on the left side of the room, we'll get this all started,"  Madeline finished.  "Good luck to you all, and have a good time." 


            The distribution of the material took almost no time at all.  Laurel found herself with a blue pad with table twelve imprinted on the top.  She quickly found table twelve and took her place in one of the empty chairs.  Around her, half the women likewise took seats, while the rest moved to the wall closest to the tables on the top of their lists.  At the sound of one of those old time hotel front desk bells, the first rounds of dates began. 


            In that brief interlude while she had waited for everyone with a blue pad to find their seat, Laurel did the math in her head.  With eight minutes to a date and a two hour window overall, she figured she had time for about ten dates.  If only one of them proved productive, then the night would certainly be worth it.  If not, well then, at least she might get an interesting story or two to tell. 


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            "Hi, I'm Jeannie,"  said the light brown haired woman who sat herself down in the empty seat across from Laurel .  "It's nice to meet you."


            "Nice to meet you too, Jeannie," Laurel said, taking just a second to jot down the woman's number on her pad.


            They each took a moment to take a good look at each other, and Laurel had to say she liked what she saw.  Jeannie was about her age and well built, with breasts that could, as they say, stop traffic.  Laurel had always been a 'breast girl' and while the lack of  big  boobs had never been a deal breaker, they were always a definite plus.   


            Without missing a beat, Jeanne began asking questions that Laurel recognized as being right out of the sample date videos that she had seen on the sponsor's web site.  As she answered, alternating her responses with a few questions of her own, Laurel thought those videos had been a very smart idea on the organizers' part.  Without at least an idea what to expect, both participants could very well spend a good part of their eight minutes simply staring at each other.  Instead, they were able to formulate questions beforehand, allowing them to maximize the amount of information they could exchange in a relatively short span.


            Their eight minutes passed quicker than Laurel thought they would, but in that time she'd learned that Jeanie was a secretary at an East Side law firm, loved to cook and travel, and had been in a serious relationship up until six months ago.  She also learned, much to her surprise, that the conservatively dressed twenty-five year old had a thing for strap-ons, being on the receiving end, not wearing one, that is. 


            That revelation took Laurel by surprise, not so much the admission, but the ease with which the brunette had worked it into the conversation.  Evidently it was an important enough element in what she was looking for in a relationship that Jeannie felt the need to put it out there.  Laurel gave her credit for that, but since she had never felt the need to act like a man in bed, which was how she couldn't help but view that, it had been enough to leave the box next to Jeannie's name unchecked.


            As the bell rang and half the women in the room rose to go to their next table, Laurel wondered if the time it took to reorganize the seating arrangement was outside of or counted against the two hour window.  That part hadn't been made clear by Madeline.  If it was the latter, she might have to recalculate the number of dates she might expect to have.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Date number two made Laurel think of the old adage, never judge a book by its cover.  It also made her think that even eight minutes might be too long on a bad date, especially if those eight minutes seemed to drag on forever.


            At first impression, the twenty-nine year old hairdresser, who introduced herself as Georgia, looked like the kind of girl Laurel was usually attracted to – tall, pretty, well proportioned and immaculately dressed.  Had they met in one of the clubs, Laurel would most definitely have offered to buy the short haired blonde a drink.  That image vanished, however, the moment the curvaceous beauty opened her mouth, causing Laurel to wonder if maybe, somehow, Georgia had originally been born a man.  In fact, at one point, she actually found herself looking to see if she might have an Adam's apple.


            Having come out early in life, Laurel had never dated a man, but that didn't mean that she'd never been propositioned by one – usually someone who didn't know her lack of interest in their attentions, or someone who did and was certain that he could be the one to change all that.  Either way, few of them had used lines half as bad as the ones that came out of Georgia 's mouth.  One in particular, Laurel knew, she would have a hard time forgetting. 


            "I'd really love to check your box,"  Georgia had said, with such a 'you know what I mean' look as to leave no doubt.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Candice was date number three and even before she sat down, Laurel felt an overwhelmingly strong reaction to the twenty-year old brunette – one centered between her legs, not from beneath her breast.  Only four foot eleven and ninety pounds, most of which seemed to be centered in her breasts, the slim, dark haired young woman had on a top that made Laurel's peasant blouse look like something a nun might wear – what little there was of it – along with a pair of hot pants that looked so short as to be almost non-existent.  Two weeks past her eighteenth birthday, the busty college bound girl spent a good deal of their time together speaking what Laurel could almost imagine was a foreign language – or at least foreign to her. 


            Still, even if Laurel could barely understand what Candice was talking about, the girl was certainly pleasant to look at, even more than Georgia had been.  So much so that if Laurel wasn't determined to look beyond the next morning, she could easily see herself waking up alongside the expressively uninhibited girl.  But this was, she again reminded herself, supposed to be about something more, and the question of what they might talk about when their mouths weren't otherwise engaged was also, however reluctantly, a deal-breaker.  So no check mark for Candice either.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            When the bell rang, Laurel spent more time than she should have watching Candice walk off towards her next table. The girl had, she had to say, an ass just as spectacular as the rest of her.  It wasn't until some sort of commotion on the other side of the room caught her attention that she was finally able to pull her eyes away.  Thankfully, her next date hadn't arrived at the table yet, because catching her checking out the ass of the petite, almost under-age girl would've been a poor way to start.


            Looking around her, Laurel saw that she wasn't the only woman to turn in the direction of the noise.  Some of them even rising from their seats to get a better look.  Unable to see over their heads, Laurel found herself also doing so.  


            What had happened, she quickly learned, was that two women with a past relationship had, despite the odds, wound up at the same table.  Enough antagonistic feelings remained between them that even sitting at the same table for eight minutes was eight minutes too long.


            Madeline quickly stepped in to defuse the situation, suggesting that it might be best for the two of them to simply skip this round.  One was willing, but the other stated that it wasn't fair to her.  A third party quickly offered a solution by offering to switch tables with either one of them.  Seeing the woman she had been matched up with for the third round, the plump Hispanic girl had made a snap judgment and decided she might have more in common with either of the former couple. 


            With that settled, the tuneless version of musical chairs continued, with Madeline explaining what Laurel had wondered about before.  Only the time actually spent on a date counted against the total, so her original calculations would still hold.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Almost one of the last women to finally take a seat was date number four, a shoulder length blonde whose name tag identified her as Dorothy.  As she sat across from Laurel, her first reaction was that this was going to be one more mistake.  The woman had to be ten to fifteen years older than her.


            Still, the woman did look pretty good for her age, the sort of woman you might cast as the cool mother on one of the popular teenage shows on television.  Older women had never been on Laurel's radar before, but she wondered if perhaps that might have been a mistake.  Her cousin, Karen, who was her age, had been married to a man fifteen years her senior for five years, and as far as she had ever been able to tell, their relationship had never been anything but great.


            It took little time for Dorothy to prove herself articulate, intelligent, and once Laurel put the age issue aside, admittedly sexy.  By the time they'd used up just about all of their eight minutes, Laurel had made up her mind to check off the box next to Dorothy's name.  To her delight, the older woman admitted that she intended to do the same.  But before she did so, she felt there was something that Laurel should really know.


            'God, what's she going to tell me,'  Laurel thought, noting the look of seriousness on Dorothy's face.  'that she secretly has a dick?'  


            The answer turned out to be even worse, at least in Laurel's mind.  Leaning close so that no one but Laurel could hear, she confided that she was married, to a man she clarified, something that had to be done in these more progressive times.  Being with another woman had been something that had interested her for a good many years but she'd never had the courage to try.  Hitting forty on her last birthday had given her that courage.


            There would be no check mark for Dorothy after all, Laurel instantly decided.  While she had no problem with straight girls doing a little experimenting – in fact, one of her past girlfriends had originally been straight – she did have a problem with those that had a ring on their finger.  That, in her mind, had always been a firm rule.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Dates five and six, Julie and Carol respectively, were nice enough, but neither had caused any sparks in Laurel.  She'd gotten the distinct impression that neither of them had felt any in regard to her either.  Julie had even seemed relieved when the bell finally rang, ending their date.  

 

            Laurel was thinking that perhaps she should quit while she was ahead, when date number seven made all of this seem possibly worthwhile after all.  Tamara was about her height, with a slightly muscular build, wearing a tight t-shirt that held nothing beneath it but that which nature provided.  Two years younger and the product of mixed parentage, she had close cropped golden hair that couldn't have been more than an eighth of an inch in length and beautiful caramel colored skin that Laurel wanted to just kiss all over.


            Even better than her body was the mind that came with it.  Tamara was a police officer with three years on the job, possessing a highly analytical mind that had already seen her advance ahead of her peers.  She even managed to seem interested in Laurel's uninteresting job at the phone company, spending precious time to ask a few more questions about it than anyone else had done. 


            As the clock continued to run down, Laurel kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did.  She couldn't find any fault with the beauty sitting just a few feet away.  Even before the bell rang and she reluctantly watched Tamara move on, Laurel gladly put a check in the box next to her number.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            The best that could be said about Cathy Lee, date number eight, was that she was pretty, about the right age, unattached, and most definitely gay.  Other than that, she had to have been the most boring woman that Laurel had ever talked to in her life. 


Even with what little she had understood of Candice's comments, the teenager had at least come across as more interesting than Cathy Lee.  The long haired brunette was so obsessed with tedious trivia that Laurel felt her mind drifting, considering matters as whether she might want to stop by the Carvel by her apartment for a late night snack on her way home.         


            Not wanting to pull out her cell phone to check how long they had to go to the next bell, Laurel glanced around the room to see if there was a wall clock.  As she did, her gaze passed over table twenty-three, two rows over.  During the course of the evening, Laurel had noticed that every woman who had wound up at her table had been at that table just before.  Evidently, the order of tables you moved to wasn't random, which made sense if you wanted to reduce the time people spent moving from table to table.  Who was sitting at each table was still dictated by who got which pad at the beginning.


            Thinking that she might as well see what awaited her come the next round, Laurel clandestinely shifted some of her attention to table twenty three.  It really wasn't fair to the woman with her now, and she knew she should probably feel bad about it.  But the honest truth was that Cathy Lee could be sharing tomorrow's winning Lotto numbers and Laurel couldn't feign any greater interest than she already was.    


            The temporary resident at table twenty-three had her back to Laurel, so there was little that she could tell about her other than the fact that she had short jet black hair and, from the brief glimpses of her face when she turned it, appeared to be Asian in her late twenties.  Laurel was about to give up trying when, in a reaction to a noise on the other side of the room, the mystery woman turned all the way around, her face displayed for a brief moment.


            "No fucking way!"  Laurel unexpectedly heard herself say, her surprise causing her to put what should've been a thought into words.  'That's Natalie Takashima,' she silently completed her thought.


            Her outburst, combined with the look of disbelief on Laurel's face, caused Cathy Lee to stop what she was saying and inquire if her date of the moment was okay.  It took a few long seconds for Laurel to realize what the ponytailed brunette had said, and it was only the sudden cessation of her words that caught her attention, and not any recognition of them.


            "I'm fine,"  Laurel said once Cathy Lee repeated her question.  "I just thought I saw someone that I knew,"  she added, not considering how that might make the other girl feel,  "but I think I was mistaken."


            "Oh, okay,"  Cathy Lee smiled, not taking the least bit of offense and picking up where her commentary had been cut off by Laurel's outcry.


            But now, even if she had to do it a bit more surreptitiously, Laurel couldn't take her eyes off table twenty-three.  That couldn't be who she thought it was, it just couldn't be.


            Natalie Takashima had been a year ahead of Laurel at Robert F. Kennedy High, back in West Arlington, the town they both grew up in.  Class Salutatorian, member of the student council, and girlfriend of the most popular boy in school, Natalie had it all.  She was the girl every straight girl in school wanted to be and every gay girl dreamed of waking up next to – Laurel included. 


            Laurel found herself counting the seconds until the timing bell went off, saying as it did that it had been nice to meet Cathy Lee, even as she strained to get another look at the woman at table twenty-three.  It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for her to get up from her chair, as if she was still in discussion with the woman from her last date.  Finally, she rose to her feet and, in turning toward Laurel, dispelled any doubt as to her identity.  Or the fact that she was heading right for table twelve.     


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            "Hi, I'm Natalie,"  the five foot four Japanese woman said, reaching out to shake Laurel's hand even as she took the empty seat at the table.


            "Laurel,"  a still stunned Laurel said, returning Natalie's smile with one of her own.  "It's nice to meet you."


            Laurel could've easily thought of a hundred questions to ask Natalie, but with only eight minutes in which to do it, she anxiously tried to concentrate on the few most important ones.  Natalie, on the other hand, seemed to have her interview technique down to a science, the reason for which would be forthcoming soon enough.  As it was, she was able to draw out most of Laurel's life history in less than half of their allotted time.

 

            "I can't believe we both went to RFK,"  Natalie said, the fact that they'd both grown up in the same town having automatically led to where did Laurel go to school.  "It's funny that I don't remember you, though.  I mean, we were in different years of course, but it was a pretty small school."


            Laurel found herself agreeing that it was indeed funny, especially, since, all four grades included, there were only three hundred or so girls. And of that number, only three, counting Laurel, out of the closet.  And you could be sure that every girl at RFK knew who those three were.

 

            "Do you enjoy your work at the phone company?"  Natalie commented as the conversation shifted to what each of them did for a living.


            "It pays the bills,"  Laurel said, not wanting to waste time talking about her job.  "What do you do?"  she asked Natalie, shifting the focus back to her as she  wondered which of the  many interests she'd had in high school had finally claimed her.


            "I'm a feature journalist for the Register,"  Natalie said.  "I've been there for a little over a year now."


            "Oh,"  Laurel said, remembering that Natalie had been on the school paper.  "So I guess that this is all just for a story then,"  she added, trying to be funny.


            "Well, not totally,"  Natalie smiled.


            Laurel had not been prepared for that answer.  Her vision of perhaps realizing her high school fantasy suddenly began to fade.


            "I don't understand,"  she said.


            "My editor did assign me to write a feature about speed dating; in fact, this is the second week in a row that I've been here,"  Natalie began to explain.  "I didn't want to do it at first, but then decided that, what the hell, since I'm not seeing anyone and he was willing to foot the bill, why not give it a try?"


            "You were here last week as well?"  Laurel asked, knowing full well that event had been for straight couples.


            "Yes, I was,"  Natalie replied,  "and much to my surprise, I actually did meet some very nice men."


            'Oh God,' Laurel thought, 'how could I have even thought she was into girls?'


            "Just as I've met some very nice women here tonight,"  Natalie unexpectedly added.


            "Hold on a second, I'm a bit confused,"  Laurel said.  "Are you saying that you date both men and women?"


            "Oh, you mean, am I bisexual?"  Natalie said as understanding filled her face.  "No, I'm not."


            'Fuck, fuck, fuck, I knew it was too good to be true,'  Laurel chided herself.


            "I mean, I dated guys back when I was in high school, but once I got the courage to come out in college I put that all behind me,"  Natalie said with the broadest of smiles.  "Still, my editor thought my prior experience was enough that I could have an objective understanding of what brought people to both events."


            Before Laurel could say another word, the bell sounded and people began to shift in their chairs around her.  Natalie said she'd wished they'd had a bit more time to chat, but that wouldn't be fair to the next lovely lady fortunate enough to share a table with Laurel.


            A deep sense of disappointment filled Laurel as she watched Natalie get up and move onto the next table.  A frustration that carried over into the final date of the evening as a perky dental hygienist named Cynthia took Natalie's place in the chair across from her.  If Cynthia had been any of the dates from one to eight, Laurel would probably have greatly enjoyed meeting her, but the pretty blonde had the misfortune of just not being the woman Laurel wanted to talk to just then.


            Eight minutes later, it was all over and despite Laurel's sometimes inattentive responses,  Cynthia said that she hoped they'd have the opportunity to continue their conversation another time.  Laurel responded with what she hoped was a suitable reply, but even as she did so, her eyes were already scanning the room for some sign of Natalie.


            As she walked around the room searching, it was obvious that some women weren't going to wait until tomorrow for their emailed results and were already pairing up with women that they'd had favorable results with.  Or, in a  few cases, they were adding a eleventh unscheduled date with someone they hadn't been matched up with, but had formed an interest in during the event.


            Laurel grinned when she'd spotted Dorothy talking up a storm with Candice.  Actually, they were doing a lot more than talking, from the way the older woman was stroking the arm of the young girl.  Evidently, the ring that normally rested on the blonde's finger didn't matter to the brunette.


            After another five minutes of looking, it was obvious that Natalie was nowhere to be found.  Laurel glanced down at her pad where only a single name had been checked off.  Using the pen still in her hand, she added Natalie's number to the list, thinking, what did she have to lose?  Then, after turning in her clipboard, a now very tired Laurel headed home.     

                                                -=-=-=-=-


            The next day at work, Laurel found herself checking her email on her phone at least once an hour as she anxiously awaited a reply from the sponsors of the speed dating event.  When none had shown up by lunch time, she began to wonder if perhaps no one had checked off her name on their pad at all.  Seeing as she had only marked two herself, that was indeed possible.


            Finally, about half past one, an email showed up and Laurel quickly scanned the short missive, her heart beating rapidly when she saw that three people had expressed an interest in seeing her again.  Much to her disappointment, however, Natalie hadn't been one of them.  There was always a chance that the reporter, having gotten her contact info, would decide to call her, but the odds of that were, Laurel had to admit, not good. 


            Of the three women that did pick Laurel, only one had been one of her selections as well – Tamara.  The other two had been Georgia, which wasn't a surprise, and Cynthia, whose last name she now learned was Walsh, which was.  Laurel knew that she would give Tamara a call, but also decided to give Cynthia one as well, if only to have a drink together and to make up for her lack of consideration last night.  


            She dialed the cell phone number that Cynthia had provided and, after chatting with her for a few minutes, agreed to meet her after work at the bar in the same hotel where the speed dating event had been held. 


            Since she already had her phone in hand, Laurel then dialed the number listed next to Tamara's name, only to get her voice mail.  So she left a message asking her to give her a call back, saying that she'd really love to have a drink, or perhaps even dinner, and get to know her better.


            Georgia, needless to say, didn't get any such call.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Laurel arrived at the hotel bar a good fifteen minutes early, not wanting to take the chance of starting off on the wrong foot again by being late.  Sitting at the end of the bar where she had a clear view of the entranceway, she decided to save the drink until Cynthia arrived and ordered a sparkling water instead.     


            Despite her optimal observation point, Laurel still almost missed Cynthia when she appeared ten minutes later.  Missed might have been the wrong word, as she definitely spotted the blonde knockout when she walked through the door.  Failed to recognize seemed a much more suitable description of what happened.  


            At last night's function, the dental hygienist had been wearing a simple pair of black slacks and a blue button down short sleeve blouse, her long locks tied back into a tight bun.  Tonight, however, she had traded the somewhat conservative ensemble for a tight green dress with gold trim that highlighted a body that Laurel had unpardonably failed to take notice of before.  Long flowing hair now stretched half way down her back, replacing the tight bun of before as well.        


            "I hope I'm not late,"  Cynthia said, having spotted Laurel at the bar, as she walked up to her.


            "No, actually you're right on time,"  Laurel smiled, hoping Cynthia hadn't caught the way her eyes flashed down the deep valley of her dress before she caught herself.  "I was just a bit early."


            "Great,"  Cynthia smiled.  "Well, shall we get a table, or would you rather sit here at the bar?"


            The inference, or at least as Laurel took it, was that she was being given a choice of staying a bit or just staying just long enough for one of them to make a graceful exit. 


            "Oh, a table, definitely,"  Laurel smiled.


            Once they were seated, a waitress took their order and Laurel immediately apologized once more for her inattentiveness the previous evening.  Cynthia said that they should just forget about it and start fresh.  Thankfully, the blonde didn't seem to care much about what had been the cause of Laurel's distraction.


            By the time they'd had the equivalent of almost three speed dates, Laurel thought herself a first class ass for having not realizing yesterday what a prize Cynthia actually was.  She also realized how fortunate she was to have been given a second chance to learn so now.  


            Putting aside the obvious fact that she was beautiful, the twenty-five year old was also charming, witty and highly intelligent – all things Laurel prized.  By the time they'd finished their drinks, she was searching for a way to make the night last even longer.


            "Cynthia, I know we said we were just going to meet for a drink,"  Laurel began,  "but we seem to be getting along so well I was wondering…"


            "We do seem to be hitting it off, don't we?"  Cynthia interrupted, the inflection in her voice reflecting her surprise at the fact, a nuance Laurel couldn't help but catch. 


            "So, I was wondering, if you don't have any other plans, you might like to make a actual evening of it,"  Laurel continued, encourage by Cynthia's positive response.  "There's a really nice Italian restaurant just a few blocks away, or if you don't like Italian we could…"


            "Laurel,"  Cynthia said, this time raising her hand to pause the conversation.  "I'm afraid I already have plans for the evening.  Before you called this afternoon, someone else from last night had already asked me out to dinner,"  she added.  "Since you said you just wanted to have a drink, I really didn't see a problem.  I hope you're not offended."


            "No, of course not,"  Laurel said, thinking that it should've been obvious that Cynthia had some place else to go by the way she was dressed.  Did she really think she got all made up just to meet her for a drink?  "Well, how about tomorrow night then, or perhaps Saturday?"  she added.


            "You know, now that we've actually had a chance to talk, I think you're quite nice,"  Cynthia said, sidestepping the question.


            "But?"  Laurel interjected, having heard the unspoken word in her reply.


            "Well, to be honest,"  the blonde replied after a momentary hesitation,  "since you didn't mark off my name on your list originally, I really didn't expect meeting for a drink was going to be anything but perfunctory."  


            "I guess I deserve that,"  Laurel admitted,  "but now that we know it doesn't have to be, we could…"


            The look on Cynthia's face caused Laurel to pause, feeling that the woman across from her had something to say.  And it turned out that she certainly did.


            "I have  to say my one real reservation about the whole speed dating thing was the fact that I've never been the sort that dates more than one woman at a time,"  Cynthia pointed out.  "When I signed up for it, I thought I could put that aside, but now that it's actually happening, I find that I really can't.  To already plan to go out with a second woman before I've even gone out with the first feels like I'm already assuming that first date is not going to lead to a second – that it's already going to fail, so to speak.  I know that probably sounds silly, but that's how I feel."  


            "That doesn't sound silly at all,"  Laurel smiled, thinking that she couldn't imagine herself going to that extreme, but had to respect that Cynthia felt that way. 


            "I'm glad you understand,"  Cynthia smiled, glancing down at her watch and, noting the time, saying that she had to go.  In order to simplify matters, she explained, she had agreed to meet her date in front of the hotel.


            "Well, you have a good time,"  Laurel offered, realizing even as she said it how hollow the sentiment sounded, trying to make a joke of it by adding that if things didn't work out, well, she had her number. 

 

            Cynthia thanked her with a smile, then rose from the table and headed for the door.  As she watched her walk away, Laurel cursed herself getting carried away by Natalie.  It could've been her that Cynthia was having dinner with.


            'I wonder what Georgia is doing tonight?'  Laurel heard herself ask, then shuddered at the thought.


            Dropping a bill onto the table that would cover the drinks as well as an appropriate tip, Laurel got up and headed out of the bar.  She could see Cynthia through the double-glass door, waiting outside the front entrance, so she decided to use the side door instead.  Before she could do so, however, she saw a red vintage corvette pull up right in front of the hygienist and the driver get out and come around to open the passenger door for her.     


            "I don't fuckin' believe it,"  Laurel said under her breath,  "They weren't even matched up last night."


            While it was true that both had indeed drawn white pads at the event, moving them from table to table, nothing had prevented Tamara from simply walking up to the woman who caught her eye after the program ended and engaging her in conversation.  In half the time of an 'official date', she'd convinced Cynthia to accept her invitation to dinner. 


            Watching them pull away from the curb, Laurel now doubted she'd be getting a call back from Tamara.         


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Over the course of the next two weeks, Laurel buried herself in her work, which wasn't hard since two of the other girls in the office had called in sick.  No further calls had come her way and she wondered if things had worked out for Cynthia and Tamara.  Part of her hoped they had.  She'd never been the sort that wanted success as the result of others' misfortune.  


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            "All right already, hold on,"  Laurel cried out, wrapping the towel around her, as if the person on the other end of the ringing cell phone could somehow know they had called while she was in the shower. 


            Pushing back her still wet hair, Laurel hit the accept button on her phone, as she sat down on the end of the couch.  With no match in her personal directory, the phone displayed an unknown number, and Laurel silently promised herself that if that was some telemarketer, she was really going to rip them a new one.


            "Hello?"  Laurel asked.


            "Laurel?"  the  vaguely familiar but still unidentified female voice said.


            "Speaking,"  Laurel replied, remembered a few marketeering calls that had started with people acting like they were someone that you knew.


            "Laurel, hi,"  the voice said,  "it's Natalie, Natalie Takashima."


            "Natalie?"  Laurel repeated, her voice reflecting the surprise she felt.  


            "Yes,"  Natalie said, her voice causing Laurel to remember the warmth of her smile,  "from Round Robin a few weeks back.  I hope you remember me."


            "Of course,"  Laurel replied, not wanting to say that it was hardly possible that she didn't.  "I'm just surprised to hear from you, that's all."


            "I didn't call at a bad time, did I?"  Natalie asked.


            "No, not at all,"  Laurel replied, tossing aside her displeasure at being interrupted in the shower.


            "Good,"  Natalie replied.  "Well, let me get right to the point.  If you remember, I was doing a feature story on the whole speed dating phenomenon, and now that you've had time to judge the experience, I was wondering if you might be willing to sit and answer a few questions about it.  It would all be under a pseudonym of course."


            'She's calling me because of the story?'  Laurel thought, feeling a bit disappointed.  A long moment passed as she digested that.


            "Laurel, are you still there?"  she heard Natalie say over the receiver.  


            "I'm still here,"  Laurel answered.  "I was just thinking that I'm not really one of the people you want to talk to.  The whole speed dating thing really didn't work out too well for me."


            "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,"  Natalie replied,  "but I still would like to talk to you.  My story wouldn't be any good if I only presented one side of it."


            "I don't know…"  Laurel said.


            "Look at it this way, it's a free dinner on the Register at the restaurant of your choice,"  Natalie quickly added, leading Laurel to think that was an approach that had led to success with other callers. 


            'What the hell, why not?'  Laurel thought, proving that a free meal was indeed a powerful enticement.  She told Natalie that she would be happy to.   


            "Great, so what day would be good for you?"  Natalie asked.


            They quickly worked out a day and time for the interview and as Laurel disconnected the call, a small smile filled her face. 


            'Well, even if it's only for an interview for her story, at least I'll get a chance to see her again,'  she thought as she headed back into the bedroom to finish dressing.  'At least that's something.'


                                                -=-=-=-=-

            The dinner interview was scheduled for the following Thursday night and, true to form, Laurel was running behind schedule.  She barely had time to stop off at the apartment and change out of her work clothes and into a grey, short sleeved blouse and jeans.  The seafood restaurant she had picked was only a few blocks from home, so that made up some of her delay, allowing her to arrive only ten minutes late.


            When Laurel arrived at the restaurant, she found Natalie, dressed equally casual in a black sleeveless, ruffled top and tan slacks, waiting outside.  She hoped she hadn't been doing so too long.


            "I'm so sorry,"  Laurel said, her tone apologetic,  "things got a little crazy at the end of the day at work and…"


            "No need to apologize,"  Natalie smiled,  "we've all been there.  You're here now and that's what's important."


            Laurel was glad to hear that and she returned Natalie's smile. 


            "Well, shall we go inside?"  Natalie asked, the question purely rhetorical as she turned and took a step toward the entranceway.


            Laurel followed a heartbeat later, but not before taking note of the way Natalie's ass filled her slacks.  A low, wistful sigh spilled from her lips as she regretted this wasn't a real date.    


            It was still relatively early, so they didn't have to wait for a table, and once they were seated their waiter, whose nametag identified him as John, was at their side, asking if they would like anything from the bar.


            "I think a glass of white wine would be nice,"  Natalie said, turning her attention from the waiter to Laurel.


            "Make that two,"  Laurel echoed. 


            "Would you like to get the interview out of the way first so we can enjoy our dinner,"  Natalie asked as the young man walked off, "or would you rather eat first?"


            "Well, they do say, business before pleasure,"  Laurel smiled.


            "Okay, this shouldn't take too long,"  Natalie replied, taking out a steno pad on which Laurel could see a list of questions already on it.


            Before Natalie could ask the first question, their drinks arrived and the server asked if they were ready to order.  Natalie said she already knew what she wanted, but since Laurel had just arrived, perhaps she might need a few more minutes to go over the menu.


            "Not at all,"  Laurel smiled, having know what she wanted even before she walked through the door.  "I'll have the Lobster Tail Delight,"  she said.


            "Very good,"  John said as he jotted down the order on his own pad.  "And you, Ma'am?"  he asked, turning his attention to Natalie.


            "You know, that sounds a lot better that what I was going to order,"  she laughed softly,  "so why don't you make that two?"


            Laurel felt a bit of relief in hearing Natalie order the same entrée that she had.  Probably the most expensive item on the menu, it was something that she never would've considered if she didn't know the newspaper was picking up the tab.  Certainly it wasn't the sort of thing she would order if this had been a real date, at least not until well into a relationship – and even then only on a very special occasion.


            Once John moved off to place their orders, Natalie went right into reporter mode and began asking her questions.  Laurel quickly discovered that Natalie was able to make you relax quite easily, so much so that you quickly forgot that this was an interview.  More a conversation than an cross-examination, it was over just as John returned with their appetizers.  


            "That's it?"  Laurel asked as Natalie closed her pad and began to put it away.


            "I got everything I needed,"  Natalie smiled.  "So now we can sit back and enjoy our dinner."


            "That would've taken, what, five, maybe ten minutes on the phone?"  Laurel noted.


            "That's about right,"  Natalie replied, "at least, that's how long it took for most of my interviews."


            "You mean not everyone got taken out to dinner?"  Laurel asked.


            "My boss is generous, but not that generous,"  Natalie laughed.  "He said I could take an interviewee out to dinner only if I thought they were interesting enough to be essential to the story."


            "So other than me, how many other people were essential?"  Laurel asked as she took a taste of the stuffed mushrooms in front of her.


            "Actually none,"  Natalie grinned.


            That, brought an even broader smile to Laurel's face.


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            Conversation over dinner began innocuously enough, starting with how good the meal was and then progressing to shared memories of their home town and people they knew in common.  It was just after Laurel had mentioned one girl in particular that Natalie abruptly stopped talking.  Laurel waiting a moment then asked if something was wrong.


            'Laurel, I owe you an apology,"  Natalie unexpectedly said.


            "Whatever for?"  Laurel asked, not able to think of anything that required an apology.


            "That night at Round Robin,"  Natalie said,  "I wasn't exactly honest when I said I didn't remember you."


            "No big deal,"  Laurel replied,  "after all, it's been a long time since high school.  I'm lucky if I could remember half the people I knew if I ran into them today.  At least not right away."


            "That's just the point,"  Natalie interrupted.  "I didn't remember you later on.  I knew who you were the minute I sat down."


            "I don't understand."


            "You were my first crush,"  Natalie said, going right to the point.


            "I was what?"  Laurel said, sure that she'd heard her wrong.


            "You were the first girl that ever made me go weak at my knees,"  Natalie confessed.  "The one that finally made me realize just how different I was from my friends."


            "Fuck me!"  Laurel said, in a voice loud enough to be heard at the adjacent table.


            One of the two older women at that table made a disapproving remark over Laurel's exclamation, but a quick, hard look in her direction instantly dispelled her interest.  The brief distraction gave the younger woman a few precious seconds to digest the revelation.   


            "Why didn't you say anything?"  she asked, still unable to believe it as she turned her attention back to Natalie.


            "Because I was a coward,"  Natalie replied, a bit of embarrassment in her voice.  "I was too afraid of being publicly labeled a dyke to even be seen talking to you.  I was too afraid of losing everything that I had."


            "Natalie, you weren't a coward,"  Laurel said with a reassuring smile.  "You just weren't ready, that's all.  And trust me, you were hardly the only girl who didn't want to come out of the closet.  There were at least nine other girls like that at RFK, one of whom was even sort of my girlfriend for a while – and I never thought the less of her."


            "Nine?"  Natalie said, surprised by the number.


            "Well, ten, now that I can include you,"  Laurel laughed.


            That made Natalie laugh as well.


            "All that matters is that you came out on your own terms and that you're happy with it now,"  Laurel added.  "You are happy, aren't you?"


            "Yes, I am."


            "Good."


            They ate in silence for a bit, then Natalie shared a thought that popped into her head.


            "I just thought of an eleventh name, but I'm not sure if she really fits on your list,"  she said.


            "She was at RFK?"  Laurel asked.


            "Yes, but…"


            "Then she qualifies,"  Laurel laughed.


            "I probably shouldn't have said it,"  Natalie said, obviously having second thoughts.


            "Oh come on, it was years ago,"  Laurel replied,  "and for all you know, she's probably already on my list."


            "I don't think so,"  Natalie said.


            "She was your first, wasn't she?" 


            Natalie nodded.


            "Now I just have to know,"  Laurel said, her tone just a bit more than half serious.


            "You have to promise never to tell anyone else,"  Natalie said.         


            "It doesn't leave this table,"  Laurel promised, her curiosity now really aroused.   


            "Beverly Cannon,"  Natalie said, the relief in her voice giving credibility to the thought that this was the first time she'd ever said that name to anyone.


            A blank look filled Laurel's face.  The name didn't register at all.  Regardless of what she had said before, she didn't think there was a girl at RFK that she couldn't remember, at least by name.  But try as she could, the name Beverly Cannon just drew a blank.


            Long seconds passed as she again reviewed names from her high school days, then a look of first shock and then recollection filled her face.


            "Holy shit!"  she exclaimed, this time not caring if anyone else heard her.  "Beverly Cannon,"  she repeated.


            It took Natalie a moment, but she slowly nodded her head in acknowledgement.    


            "You slept with one of the teachers?"  Laurel asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper. 


            Natalie again nodded.


            "That is unbelievable,"  Laurel gushed.  "I am so envious."


            "Actually, it was after graduation,"  Natalie pointed out, "so technically she wasn't one of my teachers at the time."


            "I don't care about technicalities," Laurel replied.  "Gay or straight, that has to be just about every student's fantasy."


            Once she had placed the name in its proper perspective, Laurel had little trouble closing her eyes and filling her mind with the image of the then twenty-five year old English teacher.  Five nine with shoulder length blonde hair, the curvaceous educator had a build that made just about every male student at RFK stand to attention.  Now that she remembered Miss Cannon, Laurel also recalled the how scandalized the school administration had been to find her name on the top of a secret student poll, entitled the teacher  they'd most like to fuck.  Laurel hadn't been polled on the question, of course, but if she had been, Beverly Cannon certainly would've gotten her vote.    


            "Okay, like I promised, that name stays at this table,"  Laurel said as she reopened her eyes, "but before I put it behind us, I just want to know if it was a one time thing, or did it happen more than once?"


            "We were lovers all summer until I went away to college,"  Natalie answered.  "When I came home from spring break later that year, I found out she'd transferred to an out of state school."


            "Wow,"  Laurel said.  "Like I said, I'll never say that name again, but I can't promise I won't ever think about it."


            "Fair enough,"  Natalie smiled.  "And since I've told you mine, it's only fair you tell me yours – who was your first?"


            "Penelope Baxter,"  Laurel said without hesitation,  "the summer we both turned thirteen."


            Natalie didn't have Laurel's almost encyclopedic recollection of all the girls from their common high school, but she hardly needed it to recognize that name.  In fact, she doubted there was anyone in town who wouldn't.


            "The mayor's daughter?"  Natalie asked, even though she didn't have any doubt that was who Laurel was referring to.

 

            "Oh yeah,"  Laurel said with a grin.


            "I never would've imagined,"  Natalie said.


            "Trust me, if you'd ever met Penelope, it wouldn't have taken much imagination,"  Laurel laughed.  "By the time I came out, the number of girls Penelope had shared her charms with was already coming up on double digits.  Why do you think the Mayor shipped her off to that European boarding school halfway through Junior Year?  Of course, sending her off to an all girls school was hardly a punishment – that was why she was so willing to pack up and go."


            Now it was Natalie's turn to say wow.


            The rest of their dinner conversation proved to be a mixture of things both interesting and not so much.  Much too soon, however, the last  course had been cleared away and the waiter was placing the check in front of Natalie. 


            "Are you sure you're not going to get in trouble for that?"  Laurel asked when she saw the total at the bottom of the bill.  "I could pay part of it if you want."      


            "Don't be ridiculous, that's what expense accounts are for,"  Natalie laughed as she added a generous tip under the total and handed both the bill and her credit card back to their server. 


            While they waited for him to return with the receipt, Natalie noted a sad look on Laurel's face and inquired as to the cause. 


            "I guess I'm just sorry to see the night end,"  Laurel said with a half shrug. 


            "Are you really?"  Natalie asked in reply, just as the waiter returned.


            "I've really enjoyed talking to you, and was hoping that maybe we could see each other sometime,"  Laurel added.


            "I think I'd like that too,"  Natalie smiled. 


            "Do you like to dance?"  Laurel asked.


            "I love to dance,"  Natalie beamed.


            "Well, I know a really great dance club over on Fortune Ave and…"


            "Scarlett's, right,"  Natalie said, cutting Laurel off in mid-sentence,  "that place is awesome."


            "Maybe one night we could…."  Laurel started to say, only to be cut off again.


            "That would be great,"  Natalie interjected.


            John reappeared at that moment, laying the receipt in front of Natalie, causing  a pause in the conversation.      


            Once they exited the restaurant, Natalie asked if Laurel would like to share a cab.  Without really thinking, the younger woman said that since it was such a nice night and home was only a half mile away, she'd rather walk off some of the meal.  The words had barely left her mouth before she regretted saying them, but she couldn't take them back.


            "You know, that's not a bad idea,"  Natalie said, much to Laurel's delight.  "Do you mind if I join you?  I can call for a cab from there."


                                                -=-=-=-=-


            "Well, this is me,"  Laurel said, reluctantly glancing up at the stairs of the brownstone in which she lived.  Even walking at a slow, leisurely pace, the walk had been, in her opinion, much too short.


            Natalie followed her gaze, taking in the old building, automatically comparing it to the more modern high rise in which she shared an apartment with her two roommates. 


            "It looks like a very nice place,"  the older girl said.


            "It has its quirks, but I like it,"  Laurel said with a smile.


            The smile turned to a half frown as she watched Natalie reach into her purse and take out her phone, scrolling through her contact list to find the number of the cab company her newspaper used.  The reporter was just about to press the dial button when inspiration hit Laurel.


            "Would you like to come up for coffee?"  she asked, the question so obvious that she could've kicked herself for not thinking of it earlier.   


            Natalie paused, appearing to think about it for a moment, then removed her thumb from over the button.


            "Coffee would be lovely,"  she said, dropping the phone back into her bag. 


                                                -=-=-=-=-        


            "Forgive the mess,"  Laurel said as she opened the door of her third floor apartment, remembering the haste in which she'd exited earlier.  "I'm usually a lot neater than this."


            "I'd hardly call this a mess,"  Natalie said as, stepping past Laurel to enter the small studio, she compared the clutter with that of her own bedroom during an average week.  "Compared to my own place this is practically immaculate."


            "I find that hard to believe,"  Laurel said as, having locked the door, she started to turn back in Natalie's direction.    


            She'd just about completely turned around when she was startled by the fact that, rather than move into the apartment, Natalie was still standing right behind her.  Before Laurel could react, the reporter brought her hands up to the sides of the redhead's face and pulled her closer until their mouths met.  Laurel acted reflexively to the softness of the Japanese woman's lips, massaging them with her own, the tip of her tongue reaching out to caress its counterpart when she felt it brush against her mouth.  The kiss lasted little longer than a single breath, but during it time seemed to stand still.     


            "Oh God, I shouldn't have done that,"  Natalie said, her face filled with embarrassment as she released her hold on Laurel and stepped back, reestablishing a space between them.  "That was presumptuous of me … I'm so sorry."


            "You're sorry you kissed me?"  Laurel asked, her lips still tingling from the encounter.  'Because I have to say that if that's the case I'm really going to feel crushed."


            "Oh no, I didn't mean that,"  Natalie quickly replied.  "I just meant I shouldn't have just assumed that you wanted me to.  I mean, coffee could've really just meant coffee."


            The smile on Laurel's face slowly grew broader.


            "I hate to say this, but coffee really did mean coffee,"  Laurel admitted,  "but that was just because I didn't have the nerve to do what you just did, even though I've been thinking about it all night." 


            "So you're not angry?"  Natalie asked, relief evident in her voice.


            "Angry?"  Laurel asked in surprise.  "Natalie, the only thing I can imagine being angry about right now is if you have no intention of doing that again – and I mean doing it right now,"  she added as, taking a large step forward to again close the gap between them, she kissed her.


            It took barely half the time for Natalie to respond than it had taken Laurel, matching the desire she felt in the younger woman's lips.  As she did, years seemed to fade away in as many seconds as adolescent lust returned with fiery enthusiasm, along with thoughts of things that might have been, and still could be.   


            A flurry of kisses, soft and deep, followed, one merging into another as Natalie and Laurel pressed their bodies tight against each other.  Excited hands caressed each other's flesh and eager tongues slipped back and forth, taking turns exploring the recesses of receptive mouths.


            "Laurel, do you think we are going too fast?"  Natalie asked as they paused for a moment to catch their breaths.  "I mean, we haven't even been on a real date yet."


            "Do you want to stop?"  Laurel asked, taking a half step back.


            "No, not really,"  Natalie quickly replied.  "I just wanted to be sure I wasn't pressing you into something that…"


            Her sentence was cut off as Laurel press two outstretched fingers against her lips.  


            "Then we don't need any more words,"  Laurel said as she reclaimed the space between them.  "I can think of a lot more enjoyable uses for that delightful mouth of yours."


            Natalie's reply was totally non-verbal as lips met once again, their arms wrapping around their bodies as each held the other as tight as she could.    


                                                -=-=-=-=-        


            Taking Natalie by the hand, Laurel led her to the sofa which, when extended, doubled as her bed.  Discarding their shoes, each knelt on one of the cushions and they continued to embrace, sharing kisses while their hands roamed over exposed flesh – the amount of which grew with each passing moment as bit by bit, they shifted, then removed articles of clothing.


            Having already undone the row of buttons on Laurel's blouse, Natalie had her hands pressed against her rounded breasts, massaging them through her bra and causing soft moans to spill from her lips.  Laurel reciprocated with a string of kisses down Natalie's neck while her own hands slid under her Japanese woman's pull over, stroking the underside of her mounds.


            They paused for a breath, giving Laurel a chance to discard her now hanging shirt and Natalie to grab the sides of her top and pull it up and over her head.  As Laurel again pressed her body atop Natalie, the latter used one hand to pop the snap of the redhead's jeans, giving her other hand room to slide down her back and massage the cheeks of her ass.


            Laurel's hands were equally busy, first sliding down the straps of Natalie's bra, then undoing the front clasp, causing the undergarment to fall loose.   She pulled back, sliding the now unfettered top off the older girl, exposing the medium sized, golden brown mounds and the darker nipples that capped each.


            "God, they're beautiful,"  Laurel proclaimed, flashing back to her high school disappointment that she never got to share a gym class with Natalie. 


            Natalie brought her hands up and back behind her head, giving Laurel full access to her breasts – access she immediately took advantage of.  Eager hands closed around each, her fingers and thumbs dancing across the warm, supple skin, alternating between gentle caresses and hard squeezes. 


            Then, following one more quick kiss on Natalie's mouth, Laurel brought her head down and, one at a time, closed her lips around her inviting nipples.  The dark haired woman leaned back against the arm of the couch, arching her head backward as Laurel moved from mound to mound, savoring their wonderful taste.


            As she feasted on Natalie's bounty, the younger woman also undid the top of her slacks, guiding the brunette up onto the armrest from where she could slide them down her slacks.  That done, Laurel immediately slipped a hand between Natalie's legs, placing the flat of it on the already damp panties found there. 


            "Oh yes!"  Natalie moaned loudly as Laurel pushed aside her panties and made contact with her most sensitive of spots.


            Two fingers moved deep within Natalie with ease, even as Laurel's mouth again found the nipple of her left breast. Back and forth her fingers moved, their pace quickening with each repetition, sending oscillating waves of joy throughout Natalie's body. 


            Natalie's hands interlocked behind Laurel's head, holding it tight against her breast, forcing as much flesh as possible into her mouth.  Laurel widened her mouth as far as it would do, working her tongue back and forth across the length of the nipple within it. 


            "Yes… yes… oh God, yes…."  Natalie panted as the rising waves of delight building inside of her reached a fever pitch.


            Releasing Natalie's breast, Laurel dropped downward far enough so that her head was now between the brunette's legs.  There, she reached out with her nimble tongue and added its efforts to those of her fingers.


            Natalie braced herself with hands against both ends of the couch's arm, her breasts heaving back and forth, her head tilted back with her eyes closed. 


            "I'm going to…"  was as far as she got before the walls holding back the tide crumbled beneath Laurel's assault, unleashing the full fury of the erotic tsunami.


            The cry she let out as she orgasmed was in a tongue Laurel couldn't hope to understand – but its meaning was still crystal clear.   


                                                -=-=-=-=-        


            The last quivers of delight had barely left her body when Natalie immediately went to work doing for Laurel what she had so spectacularly done for her.  Ridding herself of her own now totally soaked panties, she separated Laurel from every stitch of her clothing with frenzied urgency.


            Duplicating Laurel's actions, she brought her mouth to the redhead's larger mounds, running her tongue back and forth across the bright pink nipples, causing them to harden with excitement.  Her hands briskly rubbed the younger woman's pussy, her fingers sliding in and out with determination. 


            But as pleasing as those actions were proving to be to Laurel, Natalie had more in mind.  She draped  the redhead over the opposing arm, pulling her legs back into a semi-kneeling position and stretched them wide.  Taking hold of the cheeks of Laurel's ass, she squeezed and  spread them as well, making room for her face to fit between them.


            "Fuck!"  Laurel cried out as she felt the tip of Laurel's tongue make contact with her most private opening. 


            No one had ever done that to her before and she found the sensation electric.  Again and again Natalie's tongue washed over its target, causing Laurel's body to quiver and shake with satisfaction.


            Then Natalie shifted Laurel higher, allowing her to move on to the even greater treasure below.  She slid her left hand up under Laurel's leg, allowing her fingers to stroke her clit even as her tongue worked its way on the lower half of her pussy.


            Deeper and deeper, Natalie worked her magic, sending Laurel along a dizzying ride down the road to Elysium.  She never imagined her former schoolmate could be so talented – even more than she considered herself. 


            Higher and further Natalie carried Laurel, until she unexpectedly pulled back and with stunning strength flipped her over onto her back.  With equal speed and strength she grabbed the redhead's legs and lifted them high and wide, dropping her own body down so that she could even better bury her face against Laurel's sex.


            "Oh my… oh my… oh my…"  Laurel repeated over and over like a mantra, unable to articulate any other thought.  The force of the quakes ripping through her body too strong to resist.


            Who would've imagined that poster girl of every red blooded boy at RFK would turn out to be the most incredible cunnilingist that Laurel had ever met?  It would only be much later that she would learn that Beverly Cannon was not the only older woman Natalie had had affairs with.  In fact, for most of the last ten years, they had proved the norm rather than the exception.  And with each she had made the best of their experience.  Like with everything else in her life, she never stopped learning.


            Her tongue buried deep inside Laurel, Natalie reached up with her free hand and vigorously massaged  the younger woman's breasts, alternating back and forth, adding to the delights filling her.  Laurel by this time was content to just lay back and enjoy the ride – and what a ride it was. 


            A ride that shook her body more than a roller coaster, with each bump sending a spark of joy through her. A journey that brought increased gratification with each passing moment.  A passage that held its greatest bliss until its end.  An end that was only a few heartbeats away.


            "Yesssss!"  Laurel cried out as what was perhaps the best orgasm of her life filled her.  A resounding tidal wave that set every inch of her body afire, draining every bit of strength within her.


            Natalie continued until she felt Laurel grow limp beneath her.  Then she lifted herself upward and gently kissed her new lover on her lips before laying her head down against her breast and closing her eyes.  Together they laid there in a warm embrace.


                                                -=-=-=-=-        


            They made love once more later that night, this time with the bed fully extended.  The dawn found them still intertwined in each other's arms.


            "A dollar for your thoughts,"  Laurel said, lifting her head from the breast she had been resting it on.


            "You think they're worth that much?"  Natalie quipped with a smile.

 

            "Well, you were RFK's Salutatorian,"  Laurel noted,  "so I would think that whatever thoughts you had about last night would be profound  to say the least."   


            "Then I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed,"  Natalie replied,  "because I was just laying here and staring at that crack in the ceiling over your bed.  You really should fix that before it gets any larger."


            Laurel laughed and said,  "Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that, I think that crack has already been filled."


            "I don't understand,"  Natalie said, a slight look of confusion on her face.


            "You don't have to,"  Laurel smiled as she lifted herself further up to kiss the woman in her bed.  "Just know you were exactly the spackle I needed."


END 




	





 (c) Ann Douglas 2015













  













   




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