Home Cookin'

By: Suzy Suburbanite

Part 1

Chapter 1

Those two months had all been a blur for me. From the moment my friend Cheryl ran into my barracks room, panicked and babbling about Sue turning straight, and outing our comfy little dyke clique.

Until the time I stepped off that airplane with my parents angrily waiting for their daughter, me. Waiting for their daughter whose military discharge read “For the Convenience of the Navy”. In those two months from the day Sue walked into the NCIS office and told the investigator that she didn’t want to be a lesbian any longer, my life had gone a complete 180.

After Cheryl told me what Sue had done I was as panicked as she was. I knew my comfortable life as a Yeoman First Class in the US Navy was about to end. An NCIS agent was at my desk the next morning asking me to come quietly and not make scene. Then a group of agents grilled me about having lesbian sex with fifteen different women in the barracks and elsewhere around town. So much for that whole “don’t ask, don’t tell” thing. Well actually, I guess since Sue told…

“But Petty Officer Mieczkowski, isn’t this your voice?” the one stern-faced female agent in the room snickered at me as she pressed the play button on a tape recorder.

And my voice boomed out, “Oh yea you fucking slut, lick my cunt. Faster, faster…faster, faster…cumming…cumming.”

Deny, deny, deny and baby did I deny, “Hell no, that’s not me,” I said with as much indignant disgust as I could muster, “are you accusing me of being a lesbian?”

“But Petty Officer, isn’t this you?” she asked while pressing the play button on a VCR.

And there I was, in a surreptitious porn video; wearing the dress white uniform of a Navy Commander, my tits bouncing freely from the open blouse, strap-on-fucking a cute redheaded Lieutenant JG while she ate out the owner of the uniform.

“That’s not me,” I pled as I fondly remembered that very scene from a wholly different angle.

The agent ejected one tape and played another, “This isn’t you then?” Her tone inflected with demanding, knowing anger now.

And wouldn’t you know it, yep, me again. This time I was pissing gleefully on three women snuggled cross-ways into a bathtub, all were as giddy as me as they lapped my stream and shared pissy kisses. Unlike the previous video, my face was clearly visible as I turned toward the mirror and splashed water across my brow to cool off before I fucked each giggling woman in turn. The camera was obviously hidden behind the mirror.

“Well Petty Officer Mieczkowski?”

“Shit,” I sighed meekly in defeat.

“So then, that is you?”

And so after five and three-quarter years, my career in the US Navy was over. The Navy offered me a “Convenience” discharge if I corroborated the list of fifteen that they had developed from spying on our Saturday pussy parties. Otherwise, they promised a courts martial for homosexual sex, impersonating an officer, and a host of other unbecoming and fraternization charges…brig time and a bad conduct discharge included.

That leads me here; standing with my heavy sea bag at baggage claim in the Pittsburgh airport. Once again lying to the parents that it was a medical discharge and that I just wanted to go home to New Castle and find a job.

Chapter 2

Life with mom and pop was what I remembered: too many rules, too much left unsaid, too many eggshells to tiptoe around. My dad was actually pretty thrilled to have me home, as he now had his “Lucky” to play catch with again. My given name is Lucja, but daddy has always called me “Lucky”. Anyway, mom on the other hand wasn’t so happy with me. She was disappointed that I was still what she called a “tomboy”, and that I showed no interest in men.

“Lucy, why haven’t you found a nice man to settle down with?” she harped frequently.

Like I could actually tell her that I was gay. Shit, she’d die on the spot of some Catholic guilt complex if I ever told her.

“Guess I just haven’t found the right one yet mum,” was my usual canned response.

Within two weeks I had a job as an AR manager for a regional trucking company, and I was starting to settle-in: buying new clothes, a car, and even make-up. Well, that is, sort of. I truly hated being at home. Instead of the confident professional I was regarded as in the Navy, I was now “Lucky” or Lucy. The troubled, man-less child of two very traditional, hard-working catholic parents. I needed out of there soon.

Being gay in a small town like New Castle would be tough, though not impossible. I felt that I needed to be discreet and so would spend either Friday or Saturday nights in Pittsburgh pursuing my avocation: fucking girls. Mom would freak-out when I returned around noon the following day; ranting about good catholic girls and the like. I would just nod like an idiot and try to assure her that I was just out looking for the right man.

About a month after I was home, mom told me that Peter Machado had died, “Little Pete?” I said, shocked.

“No, big Pete, Mr. Machado,” she then went on to explain about the brain tumor and how hard it had been on his wife, Julie.

I felt guilty then that I didn’t know of what happened with “Big Pete” or that I hadn’t been in touch with Mrs. Machado for almost six years. You see, Julie, Mrs. Machado, had been my saving grace when I was in high school. Aside from my assistant softball coach--who’d turned me out as a budding dyke--Julie was the one woman that ever made me feel like I mattered in the world during those difficult years. I’d dated her son, Julian, when I was a freshman in high school, and withstood the verbal assaults of her son “Little Pete” (who was three years older than Julian and I) about my weight and facial features.

“Peter, you be nice to Lucky and Jules or you’re grounded for a week,” she would yell at her eldest son when she heard him taunting Julian and me as “the fag and the fat chick.”

After that first time Amy, my softball coach, let me bump my nose against her button for a few hours, I felt as if I could never look my mom or any of my straight friends in the eye ever again. Somehow Julie knew that I’d changed, not how, but she knew, and she accepted me. Not only did she accept me, but every time I was near her she made a point of hugging me close, or just casually wrapping her arm around my waist like we were the best of friends as she chatted away with whomever. She would never let me feel alone when I was near her. She always made me feel like the center of her attention.

“You’re so pretty Lucky,” she would smile at me, “you don’t mind that I call you Lucky, do you?”

“No Mrs. M,” I would positively gush at her, “I feel lucky when I’m around you.”

“I’ll call you Lucy if you want.”

“No please, Lucky is great.”

So, ok I had a crush on her. Even before I knew that I dug girls. Like who wouldn’t have a crush on a statuesque, olive-skinned Italian beauty like Mrs. Machado. How many times had I fantasized about her loving me? How many times had I near-orgasmed when she hugged me? But now, shaking off those delightful memories, my dear friend’s husband had died. She was alone. For all I knew she was sitting at her house, drunk, contemplating life options that didn’t necessarily include life.

Chapter 3

“Hi Mrs. M,” was how I greeted my former knightess in shining armor when she answered the phone.

“Lucky?” her voice sounded pleasantly stunned, “is this my Lucky?”

“Yes Mrs. M, this is your Lucky.”

‘Oh yes, her Lucky,’ I thought, ‘what I wouldn’t give to be that lucky.’

“Oh Lucy, where have you been?” she exclaimed, as if on the verge of tears, “I’ve missed you so.”

After a half and hour of me apologizing for not being aware of what was happening in her life, and Julie telling me about Peter dying, I asked if I could see her.

“Please, yes, but aren’t you in the Navy somewhere?”

“No, they kicked me out. I’m home at mom and dad’s house now.”

“But why…damn it no, I don’t care, just please come and see me,” she said, her voice sounding needful, “Jules is here to, and I know he’d love to see you.”

“How about two o’clock?”

“That’s wonderful darling, I’ll see you then,” her voice bordering on a breathless sigh.

I took a long shower and allowed myself some pleasure as I remembered the girl I’d fucked the night before. She was young and pretty; a waifish little blonde with no tits and a cunt to die for.

‘Aren’t Sundays just a bitch? All fantasy and no fucking,’ I thought aimlessly, remembering with sweet sorrow that the Navy had been all fucking and almost no fantasy. ‘Shit, you screwed that pooch, didn’t you Petty Officer Mieczkowski.’

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I realized how much I’d changed since I left home to join the Navy. I was taller, stronger, and much slimmer. Heck, I even thought I was fairly darn pretty. My tits were firmer; I’d even dare to say “perky”. And my cunt, well, I never called it a cunt in high school, but my cunt was spectacular: bare, smooth and ever juicy.

Still gazing in the mirror I scolded myself, ‘Always thinking about your cunt is what got you here in the first place you dumb bitch.’ I determined that I was going to make a new life right here in New Castle and that I would be very, very discrete regarding my lifestyle preferences.

One of the many things I found distasteful about civilian life was clothes. In the military what you wore everyday at work was governed by regulation or order. And, at least in my case, the off-hour uniform was jeans and a t-shirt. So I’m staring inside the dresser drawer looking for something. I wanted to look nice for Julie. Dress blues were no longer an option. I had purchased two outfits for work, so I decided on the least offensive of those.

“Oh fuck this fucking shit,” I exclaimed loud enough that mom heard.

“Lucy Mieczkowski, I will have none of that language in my house,” she yelled from downstairs somewhere, “sailor or not.”

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath, “shit I have to get out of this house.”

“Sorry mum,” I hollered back.

“And don’t forget to red-up your room.”

‘Shit, I must get out of this house,’ I stewed, ‘welcome home to good old Western Pennsyltucky.’

Chapter 4

“Lucky!”

“Julie!”

It was a marvelous greeting. Like two long lost friends just happy for the chance to hug again. But we stood staring at one another. Drinking-in whatever had been missed over the past five-plus years. Then, after what seemed like agonizingly long moments, we hugged. Our embrace was long and tender. No lechery or treachery. It was just a gentle warm embrace between two people who were truly happy to be reunited.

Julie ushered me into the house and had me do a bit of a pirouette, “You’re just as pretty as ever Lucky,” she gushed.

“Good lord, I hope I’ve changed more than that.”

She was at a bit of a loss for words, thinking that maybe she had insulted me. I quickly allayed her fears, telling her that she had only become even more beautiful over the years.

Much to my delight, she was lucid, but there was a new sadness in her eyes. As if life had just jumped-up and bit her on the ass. I felt pity for my friend. I felt like I should say something, could say something to wash away her sorrow, her pain, her loss. But I remained silent as she led me into the living room.

“Shall we have tea?” she said detachedly, acting as if I were some suburban book club lady.

“No thank you,” I replied, wondering if my pity was too apparent, and that’s why I was getting the “polite” treatment.

She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle and exclaimed, “Oh fuck it, it’s after two, let’s have a cocktail. Are vodka martinis ok, or I have scotch or bourbon if you like?”

I had never heard so much as a “crap” or a “damnit” out of Mrs. M’s mouth while growing up, so her use of the “F” word caught me a bit off guard. So much so that I laughed out loud, “Julie!” I exclaimed.

“You didn’t know that I could talk like a sailor to?” she half-grinned at me, “so what’ll you have chicky poo?”

“Whatever you’re having,” I grinned back at her.

Julie returned with two martinis and snuggled her broad bottom onto the sofa beside me. This time she was a bit closer than before.

“To seeing old friends,” she toasted merrily, then added, “and to saying “Fuck” any time I damn well please.”

I chuckled again, happy that she seemed so carefree. And then before really thinking about the indiscretion of my words I extended the toast, “Or just to fucking old friends!”

I knew instantly that I had said too much about me and who I was. But much to my surprise, she didn’t even wince. Not even an extra blink or a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, I like that. To fucking old friends then,” she smiled and raised her glass again.

We both had a good laugh and polished-off our first of many cocktails for the afternoon. By the time Julian returned home, his mother and I were feeling little, if any pain. The sight he encountered when he came into the living room about killed the poor boy.

He choked, “Mother!”

I had rid myself of my blazer, my blouse was open a couple buttons, and my shoes had been kicked to the corner hours ago. Julie had long ago changed into bathrobe for comfort. We were both three-sheets-to-the-wind: laughing, giggling and guffawing to the South Park movie. I think we were mid-chorus of a rather slurred, drunken version of “uncle fucker” when he and a very fat, ugly woman rounded the corner into the living room.

“Not again mother, you promised,” Jules sighed loudly.

“Oh piss-off Julian,” my friend sneered at her son, “If I want to get snockered with my darling Lucky then I will.”

I was obviously a very distant, uninformed third-party to what was taking place between a mother and her son. What ensued was a half hour of rather vicious argument between the two, with Mindy—Julian’s fiancé—and me just observing in squirmy, uncomfortable silence.

Jules stormed out of the house with his girlfriend in tow, and Mrs. M and I got back to drinking ourselves silly.

“What did Jules mean by ‘not again’,” I inquired of my friend.

Julie explained that she now drinks often and a lot. That she doesn’t find life to be fulfilling any longer, that she prefers to forget what she has lost and not look towards her future.

As drunk as I was, there was the return of pity for this woman who’d made much of my earlier life bearable. Heck, maybe it was pity for what I’d lost. But nonetheless, I felt a bit of her grief.

“I was having such a good time,” she sighed. “Please,” she almost begged, “I was having such a good time with my baby Lucky. Let’s just have our good time, Ok?”

We had more drinks and watched another silly movie, but after that I don’t remember squat. All I know is that I woke in my bed at my parent’s house the next morning. My car wasn’t in the driveway. I couldn’t find my shoes, and my bra and panties were stuffed in my purse, covered with lipstick smudges. I was a bit horrified at the implications of those lipstick stains, but I didn’t have time to ponder for long, as I was running late for work.

I took a cab to work that morning. When I returned home in evening, my car was there in the driveway. No call, no nothing from Julie, and mother was distant and silent about anything that had transpired the night before.

For the next ten days I tried to call Julie morning and evening, but there was never an answer. Finally on the eleventh day of my increasingly frantic calls, Julian picked-up the phone.

“Oh yes, hello Lucy,” he said with some apparent disdain towards me in his voice.

“Hey Jules, I was trying to get a hold of your mom.”

“She’s not here,” his tone was rather snippy and lispy, as it had been since we were kids and he got angry.

“Can I leave her a message then?”

“No Lucy, I said she’s not here. She’s gone.”

“But where did she go Jules?” now I was getting angry, “When is she coming home?”

“I don’t know and she said not to try to find her in her note,” he quipped back.

“She left a note? My God Julian! Have you called the police?” I was almost panicked, “What did the note say?”

He sighed heavily. One of those sighs that says, “It’s my secret and it’s a major effort for me to tell you.”

“C’mon Julian, don’t be such a bitch, what did the note say?” I virtually screamed at him.

He finally caved-in and read the note to me. In it, Julie said that things had happened that she was ashamed of, and that she needed time to make sense of her life. She apologized to me, for what I don’t know. But most importantly, she wrote that she was going to visit her sister in Arizona and that she would return in a month or so.

“Oh thank God!” I sighed with relief, “Was that so hard Jules?”

“There’s a PS,” Julian said, his voice almost back to normal, “she said to tell you that she’d call you in three weeks or so.”

Chapter 5

Julie’s call couldn’t have come at a better time. Mom and I were yelling at one another about my weekend forays into she didn’t know what, and that was the problem. Mother still thought I was sixteen years old and wanted to control me. Daddy just sat on the sidelines wondering what the big fuss was about. But my dad had always been very sensible like that; very hands-off. He figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and I was never inclined to tell him things that would hurt him.

“Fuck you sideways mother,” I screamed while dad just smirked a bit, while sipping coffee at the kitchen table, “just back off and…”

“How dare you say that to me,” mom’s eyes started to well-up with tears, and then, thankfully, the phone rang.

“It’s for you Lucky,” daddy said in an unusually calm voice, holding the phone towards me.

Mother just glared at me as I reached for the phone, “Hello,” I said harshly.

“Lucky?” there was a whisper from the other end, “Lucky darling is that you?”

I immediately knew who it was: Julie. My dear, missing friend Julie was calling.

Cupping my hand over the phone I whispered back, “Yes Julie, this is Lucky.”

Mother was standing close by, trying to listen to my conversation. I told her it was a private call; implying that I expected her to leave. She just stood there burning holes into me with a fiery, hateful stare.

“It’s fucking private, you bitch!”

“I’m sorry Julie, mother and I are having a to-do,” I said apologetically to Julie, “How are you? Where are you? I’ve missed you.”

“Really? You miss me?” her voice shaky and unsure, “even after what I did?”

“Why, what did you do?”

“You know,” she sounded very uncomfortable now, as if she couldn’t find the words.

“No, what? What did you do?”

“I seduced you,” her tone a whimpering, shameful breath.

Well if she was ashamed, I certainly wasn’t. The only thing I was mad about was not being sober enough to remember. Visions of glorious orgasms danced through my brain as I thought of her goddess-like body nursing one lovely cum after another from my lips.

“Oh, so that’s where the lipstick stains on my panties came from,” I chuckled a bit, hoping to lighten her mood and let her know that I wasn’t upset.

“Oh my God,” she sighed heavily, “I’m so, so sorry Lucky. I should never have…I’m so sorry.”

“Julie, it’s Ok.”

“But Lucky…”

“I’m serious; it’s ok,” my voice a touch more solemn and intent now, “I was afraid that I had made a pass at you. Actually, I don’t remember much after Julian left. I was really drunk.”

“Y-You what?” she stuttered a bit.

I just squeezed my eyes shut tight and screwed-up my courage, “Julie, please don’t worry about this, please, please! I’m queer as a three dollar bill…I like girls!”

There was a long silence. It was much too long for anything good to come out of it. My mind reeled. My heart sank at the blank, echoing silence from the other side of the phone.

‘Did I say too much,’ I prayed to myself that I didn’t just ruin something. I prayed that I hadn’t just lost a dear friend.

And then the words came. Words that never in a million years would I ever expect to hear from this woman. Words that filled me with a joy, lust, and desire that could never be equaled during my lifetime. Her words were so tender and caring that I felt as though I would melt on the kitchen floor, as if her final breath was being taken for me and me alone.

It was a happy, almost playful mewling from Julie, “Does baby love mommy?”

I think we’ve all felt it before. That soft, warm breath across an earlobe or your neck, or that gentle brush of the back of a hand across a nipple. It’s that accidental, innocent touch to start something more than you expected. It’s the start of magic between two people that comes from nowhere and ends in eternity. But for me—here and now—it was the words and the voice: unsure, nervous, begging for acceptance. It was her darling voice, and I knew I wanted more.

“Yes mummy, baby loves you so much,” I promised back to Julie. I hoped beyond hope that my affirmation of her affection would bring this glorious woman back to me.

Frankly, truly, I was at a bit of a loss. I still had no recollection of any games we’d played or of anything that was said. But judging from her tentative comment, we’d played some rather interesting games that night.

Chapter 6

I was beaming when I hung-up the phone. As it turns out, Julie wasn’t in Arizona, but at a rehab over in Greensburg. She was allowed visitors on the coming Sunday and I was going. After hanging-up the phone, I just stood propped-up against the wall, my eyes closed, smiling to myself thinking of what may come. A dream come true.

When I opened my eyes, there was mother staring at me, blazing hatred and venom into me. She was about to rekindle our argument when dad stepped up behind her, then pulled her back towards the living room. He reappeared a moment later looking terribly sad and carrying a letter with an official US Navy seal as the return address…the letter had been opened.

“This arrived a few days before you came home,” his voice carrying a sorrowful, disappointed inflection. “I’m sorry, but you know your mother,” he apologized, handing me the letter without making eye contact, “She read it.”

My hands shook as I opened the certified mail that was clearly addressed to me and I was stunned to see all the charges against me detailed in bold black and white print. My heart sank even further as I realized that my mother and father knew my secret.

“Did you read it daddy?”

“No Lucky, but your mother told me,” he looked sad as he spoke, “I’m afraid you need to go baby.”

That was that. I knew there was no use arguing the point with my father, so I agreed that this was just accelerating the inevitable. Dad agreed and gave me $4500 so I could get a hotel for a few nights until I found a place.

“Lucy,” he never called me that, “Lucy, if there was any other way I would’ve found it,” he promised. “But after that night a few weeks ago…shit Lucky, she wanted to have you committed so you could be “cured”…shit Lucky.”

Daddy helped me pack what few possessions I had and stood on the front lawn waving goodbye as backed out of the driveway. I paused for a moment to look at my father and wave back. He smiled at me as I smiled at him. Just before I pressed the gas pedal, I saw mother in the living room window; scowling and angry, but with tears streaming down her cheeks.

What had started as an angry, confrontational night--that turned to overwhelming joy with Julie’s phone call—finished as something very sad.

I was questioning my lifestyle and my sexuality as I drove down the quiet streets of my parents’ neighborhood, wondering what to do next. I had been unceremoniously booted out of the Navy job that I loved, and now, I was kicked out of my parents’ house. The only person that accepted me for what I was was Mrs. M. The only person that ever seemed to accept me throughout my entire life was…Mrs. M. I couldn’t wait until the coming Sunday.

Chapter 7

Dad called me the next day while I was at work. To say he shocked me with the call would be an understatement, but nonetheless he called.

“Lucky,” he started in a soulful voice, “please understand…”

I cut him off. My dear old dad didn’t need to explain what happened the night before, I knew. Boy’o did I know.

“Daddy, its ok,” I assured him, “I know you still love me. I’m just sorry that you and mom had to find out that way.”

“Just give me some time with your mother.”

“I know dad, I know.”

“This is probably a dumb question,” he asked in a low voice, “but is this a phase? Just some experimenting that you are doing?”

“No daddy, I’ve been gay since I was a sophomore in high school.”

There was no real response but for a mumbled, “Ok, I understand,” from my father before he quietly said, “I love you Lucky,” and hung-up the phone.

I was hoping that my mom would’ve called that day, but I think I was being foolish. Let’s face it, gay or straight, you believe in something all your life--fuck, it wasn’t going to happen with me and my mum. There was no way she would accept who I was.

The rest of that Friday I spent feeling guilty for what I was putting my parents through, and trying to find an apartment. My boss was ragging me a bit for making so many personal calls, but once I explained that I had a fight with my parents and needed to find a place to live, he was pretty cool. Heck, he even offered me the sofa in his house if I wanted to save cash.

Friday night came and went without my usual foray searching for women in the gay bars of Pittsburgh, leaving me a bit horny and more than concerned that I was feeling something more than my usual lust for Mrs. M. Saturday I looked at eight cramped, over-priced apartments and decided that I’d wait until the next week and call a real estate agent to do my search for me. And then Saturday night arrived. Shit, Saturday night was reckoning time for me. Thoughts of what I’d say to Julie the next morning created a maelstrom in my head.

Now the thing is that my sex life has always been very non-committal. You know; play time. Not since Amy had I actually felt something more than a desire to fuck. That fat-assed bitch slapped me down when I said that I loved her, and ever since I’ve never said those words again to anyone.

But here we are…A woman twenty years older than me…a woman that I had had a crush on as a girl…a woman who’d already had my body…that woman…that amazingly delightful woman. Fuck!

So stomp on my head. I dreamed of unicorns, good witches, and true love when I was young. Then Amy got me into the whole sex thing, and then I joined the Navy. Sheesh, I’d never matured the way “normal” women do. Sex with girls was never an experiment, but always where I was meant to be. Early-on I wanted to fall in love, and I did. But then I found my niche as a bit of a randy butch. Heck, if it had tits and three holes, then I was set for the night. I never placed myself in a position of emotional vulnerability. From that day Amy broke up with me, I was always in control…until now.

It bothered me that I was considering exposing my still rather fragile soul to an old friend in a way that friends probably shouldn’t. I’d never completely gotten over Amy. Not from an emotional standpoint. And now I was having those deep, loving feelings for a woman who was ashamed at having loved me. What the hell would I say to her the next day?

The empty pit I felt in my stomach on Sunday morning was reminiscent of what I’d felt when Amy seduced me that first time, or finals during my senior year in high school, or when I submitted my chit for an increased rank in the Navy…or that day the sex cops came for me. I wanted to barf. Maybe it was always the uncertainty that made me feel that way. Maybe it was the prospect of success. I don’t know what, but it took me three tries of driving onto the rehab property before I was able to park my car and enter the front door.

“Hi, I’m Lucy Mieczkowski,” my voice a bit shaky as I spoke to the guy behind the security glass, “I’m here to visit Julie Machado.”

“Sign in here,” he said as he checked-off my name on a list, and then pointed to a cluster of chairs where fifteen or twenty other visitors sat, “and wait over there.”

I waited as calmly as I could for about ten minutes when a short, rather plain woman approached me and extended her hand, “Hello, I’m Amanda, you must be Lucy? Just call me Mandy.”

“Um, hello?” I responded quizzically as I shook her hand.

“I’m Juliana’s therapist. Would you follow me please Lucy, I’d like to chat a bit before Julie comes down from her room,” she said with an almost conspiratorial whisper.

We wandered through a maze of hallways until she finally directed me into her small, but comfortable office. As I sat, I took notice that many of the books on the shelves were gay and lesbian titles stuffed in between the substance and chemical recovery books.

“Julie and I have had some long discussions regarding you,” she started tentatively, “and there is something that she’d like you to know before she comes down to talk.”

There wasn’t really a question, but I answered from between the lines, “She’s embarrassed about being gay?”

Mandy chuckled lightly while nervously twisting a ring on her right index finger, “Well, no. No, I think she’s quite happy about that, actually. And I think she’s quite happy about you entering her life again.”

“What then?”

Amanda was tugging furiously at a small metal loop attached to her ring as she laid bare Julie’s big secret, “Juliana has been bi-sexual for her entire adult life. Did you know that?”

No it was my turn to fidget a bit, “No I didn’t.”

“And that you’ve shared a lover,” she said calmly; almost a slight smirk appearing on her lips.

“What? We did?” I was a bit stunned, but coming from our small town there couldn’t be that many dykes about. Just goes to reason that...

“It was your friend Amy,” Mandy cut-off my train of thought, “she and Julie were lovers while you were in high school. It was Julie’s idea that Amy seduce you in the first place.”

Boom, there was the bomb dropping. I remembered that day after practice when Amy asked me to stay and help her with some equipment and scheduling. That day when she looked at me, and told me how beautiful I was. That day when she kissed me square on the lips and made me melt. I remembered that day when my body first felt the tender caress of a woman; when I became a woman. And, I remembered how Amy would rub her nipples around and around on my wet cunt before we dressed after sex so that, “my other girl gets to taste you to.”

‘That ermmy bitch,’ I laughed to myself, ‘that sneaky, horny little bitch.’

What came out of my mouth to Amanda was a bit more subdued though, “Oh my! I had no idea.”

--End Part I of Home Cookin'--