Mood Ring Ch. 02

I asked her, "How many languages do you speak?"

She replied, "5 major languages; English, French, German, Italian, Russian, and a minor, Luxembourgish."

I was stunned. "I knew you were intelligent lady, but I had no idea that you were fluent in so many languages."

She smiled and replied, "Well, it is not such a big deal when you grow up in a multilingual society. I lived at one time or another in an area where each particular language is dominant and I just picked it up. It is less of an accomplishment than it seems."

See, that is why I think this lady is so great and a person to emulate. She is not vain or arrogant and she believes that everyone is able to achieve the same things that she had if given the proper opportunity.

About that time there was a pleasant low volume chime. She reached over and said, "This would be our wine."

She opened a dumbwaiter and there was a bottle of red wine and two crystal glasses.

I mentioned, "You know other than Robert and the gentleman that escorted you, I haven't see another living person in this place." I had seen a suit of armor in the foyer, but I couldn't imagine that anyone would be hiding in there. (Well, I obviously tried to imagine it, but could give no credence to the possibility.)

She looked at me, and then she went over and removed the red wine and glasses from the service.

"This establishment is very unique. It caters to the very rich and to the very exclusive. One does not find this place, it finds you. Implicit with such exclusivity is the promise of anonymity; of private security. Do you understand?" She then went to work uncorking the bottle.

I nodded assent, not really understanding of what was going on here, but I hoped she would explain further.

As she poured wine into the glasses she said, "This establishment is a fulfillment of desires for people who are under scrutiny every moment of every day. It is one of few in the world that is able to deliver anything that one can ask for, save legal and moral complications. And I do not know, maybe they can deliver any desire. Such is how big money operates. I cannot judge the scruples of others. All I know is that I am responsible for my own actions and I personally have a lot to atone for. I am not one to throw any stones."

"Let's allow the wine to breathe for a minute." She placed a half full glass in front of me and took the seat opposite the table from me.

I realized that I really, really needed to pee. With the recent pace of the evening, I had been able to ignore my growing need to empty my bladder. I had consumed a lot of fluid and I think it was all trying to escape at once.

"Excuse me do you know where the powder room is? Is it down the hall?"

She replied, "I guess you have surmised that this used to be a high-class bordello? Each room has its own. Ours is behind that drape over there." She pointed over at some thick chocolate colored drapes.

I walked over and saw that the curtain-rod slid and exposed a plain looking white doorway. The starkness of the door contrasted with the opulence of the room. Odd choice, I thought, but it did make it easier to find once you knew where to look.

I opened the door and made my way into the white tiled bathroom. The floor was cool to my feet through my hose (I hadn't replaced my heels because it felt so good to have them off.) The room was small, but it had two porcelain toilets and I realized that one must be a bidet.

I did my business, patted myself dry and thought to myself that I had spent a considerable portion of the evening in a low grade of sexual arousal and dear lord I must be starting to smell a little funky. I was drunk so I couldn't tell, but I didn't want to subject the good Doctor to a stinky pussy.

I looked over at the bidet with trepidation. I knew in theory how they worked, but I used wet-wipes to clean my lady-bits and I had left my purse in the other room.

I left my skirt hiked up and straddled the reservoir and realized that operating the controls would be tricky. I stood up and spun around so I was facing the knobs and resumed my straddle. I thought, "This can't be right, but I'm afraid I can't be bothered by proper at this point." I was too inebriated to attempt any high-risk maneuvers like balancing, turning, and trying to operate knobs at the same time. I didn't want to fall on my face in the bathroom.

I turned on one of the faucets and a little stream of cold water splashed me. "WHOOP!" I let out a little screech and quickly turned the other knob to warm the water. Well, at least my libido was checked. That was like a quick cold shower. But I did feel remarkably fresh afterwards. I washed my hands and checked my make-up in the mirror. Hmm, my lip gloss had acquired a wine-red hue. I opened the white door and returned to the dining room.

When I opened the door, I noticed that Anya had rearranged the seats so they were closer and was looking at me with repressed mirth. I guess she had heard my startled exclamation.

I said, "The drinking fountain was a little hard to drink out of. Why is it so low and close to the toilet?"

She burst out laughing, "Was the water cold?"

"It was refreshing." I replied as she stood and handed me the crystal wine glass.

She lifted her glass. "I have a toast maybe you remember? Pour une soirée pour seulement nous, les filles sans interruption par des hommes qui sont des abrutis complets quand ils sont ivres et même pire quand sobre!"

When she had said it earlier that evening, she was cleverly insulting the immature boy at the Mexican restaurant's bar who fancied himself a seducer and ladies-man and had been running a ploy to try to "pick me up." It might have worked, he was gorgeous looking. But Anya had foiled their plan by suggesting that we were lesbian lovers; first by kissing me full on the mouth and then by her clever wording when she spoke.

Now?

We were the only ones in the room. I detected more meaning in the clever wording of the insult in our present setting. Earlier in the evening, her choice of words had been directed at a particular brutish drunk. Here in the intimacy of the room, the same words appeared to encompass all men.

Her kiss had ignited something hidden in me that I had not had to deal with in a long time. In fact, even then I had not dealt with it but had rather buried it by having a night of dirty-dirty sex with a stranger.

I hadn't even thought about Haley in four years. We had been kissing each other in bars for attention when she apparently wanted to be more than attention-seeking kissing friends. The thing is; to be totally honest with myself, kissing her had sexually aroused me and then she went and made me feel foolish when she thought she had sealed the deal. I had basically ignored Haley after that night because of my wounded pride and the fact that I didn't want to deal with any of her drama.

Maybe I had been running from some sort of latent homosexual tendency because tonight, Dr. Beauchamp had triggered sexual desire in me with just a short, chaste, closed-mouth kiss; ostensibly to put some quasi-sexual predators off my scent. I had been flirting with her all night unsure if she was even into women. Actually I had no idea if I was truly into women either or if I was just infatuated with Anya. I did not believe that a relationship between two women could work for me because I want to have children from my partner and naturally two ladies cannot make a baby.

Actually I was ignorant how they could even have sex with each other. When I say sex, I don't mean 'get each other off.' Hell, I can get myself off so I know another human being could do the trick. When I say sex, I mean make love to each other by completing each other physically. Men and women are obviously compatible, but I cannot imagine how the body parts would fit for two ladies. Wouldn't sex for them just essentially be mutual masturbation?

It was obvious to me that my body reacted to the touch of another woman. I just had concerns about the completion of the act. It is important to me to feel the connection between my body and my partner's body, to intertwine and to lose the sense of "you and me"; to forget where I begin and where my partner ends. Kissing, being able to feel my partner enter into and become a part of me and I of them; is a crucial part of the sexual act and of bonding myself to my beloved. Could I do that with a lady?

The dash of cold water to my vagina had not sobered me up, but it had so to speak dampened my ardor and now it allowed me to consider just what the hell I was doing. Flirting with Anya was downright fun and a little bit dangerous when I was unsure of her orientation.

Her repetition of the toast allayed any doubts that she was a lesbian and she was full-on courting me. I had certainly been encouraging it with my clumsy flirting and traitorous body-signals. A light went off in my head and I totally saw all of the night's events from an enlightened perspective. Now that I was sure of her orientation, the fun had fled and the flirting had just become downright dangerous.

The only confusion I had now was just what the hell was I going to do? I had just been having fun and appreciating the attention, but I hadn't considered where this was going. Anya wasn't a young bisexual girl from a bar and one-way or another, tonight was going to have consequences. I looked at my hand holding the glass and realized that my ring had turned orange.

(Continued in Mood Ring Ch. 03)

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