An Evening with Linda

As a rule, I'm not a winter person. I do not like cold weather and will gladly hibernate during the winter months. However, every so often, the winter isn't so winterish and I will venture forth. Such was the case that New Year's Eve when I decided to tempt Mother Nature and join the crowd gathered in our city center.

As I walked around the edge of the crowd, dodging the occasional blowing horn or exuberant reveler, I heard my name called and looked about. Hearing it again, I snapped my head around and saw someone I hadn't seen since high school.

"Linda!" I called out as I walked towards her.

Linda and I had never been close friends in high school. In fact, we almost never spoke even though we had most of our classes together. It wasn't until a few years later when we bumped into each other at a store that we talked for any length of time.

"Well hello there little lady," I greeted her, my comment not about her short stature but merely me being me.

"Hello. Long time no see."

"Yes it has been," I replied and acknowledged her friend Joyce standing there.

Joyce, like Linda, was someone I had known in high school and also like Linda, barely spoke to. However, I recognized her instantly and greeted her as well. Unlike Linda, who was petite, Joyce was rather tall and thickset.

"So what have you two been up to?" I asked to start the conversation.

"Nothing in particular," Linda replied, her slight overbite beaming forth from behind her pink lips. "What about you?"

"Oh, the usual," I deadpanned. "Trying to become benevolent dictator of Earth."

Whether because she actually understood my odd sense of humor or because she was being polite, Linda let out a loud laugh while Joyce gave a forced smile.

"So how's that going?"

"Not well. I can't get people to understand it's in their best interests to elect me. So what have you been up to these last few years since we last talked?"

For the next few minutes, the three of us talked about what we had done with our lives since high school, places we had visited, where we lived and worked as well as anything else that came up. We hung out until the hour struck midnight and gave each other a hug to celebrate surviving another year.

Afterwards, I made the usual offer to keep in touch with them though only Linda accepted my offer of my phone number. Saying our goodbyes, we parted ways and returned to our lives.

For whatever reason, over the next few months Linda and I ran into one another several times, most times with Joyce also present. It started to happen so frequently that I finally asked her, jokingly, if she was stalking me.

Just like on New Year's Eve, she laughed and of course said she wasn't stalking me. As the spring weather was starting to appear, I made the offer that if she wanted to come over some time for dinner or just hang out, she was more than welcome. She politely accepted the offer though I had no expectation she would follow through.

Two week's later, we again saw each other and I was surprised when she asked if my offer still stood.

"Of course," I told her. "When were you thinking?"

"How about Saturday?"

"Sure. Anything in particular you don't like?"

She replied no and we agreed that five would be a good time for her to come over. We said our goodbyes and parted ways.

On Saturday I got up early and did a complete top-to-bottom cleaning of my place before making sure I had what I needed for dinner. I kept looking at the clock and as the time approached, set the table and began to make dinner. No sooner had I started to prepare the meal when the doorbell rang.

Opening the front door, Linda greeted me with a small smile. She had on a white top, a denim skirt and white sneakers.

Nothing fancy which was just as well since I had on jeans and a t-shirt. She was still as athletic looking as I remembered her in high school with only her hairstyle being different. It was much shorter and more professional looking, almost pixieish.

Welcome," I said as I stepped aside and let her in.

Taking a few steps into my house, she stopped and briefly looked about the living room area before noticing the chef's knife in my hand.

"Expecting trouble?" she asked.

"Heh, no," I said, holding up the knife. "That chicken just won't stay down so I'm taking matters into my own hands."

Telling her to have a seat and asking if she wanted anything to drink, I returned to the kitchen to continue making supper.

As she sipped on the glass of white wine I gave to her, we talked loudly back and forth until I finally said she didn't have to stay out there and was welcome in the kitchen. Moments later she appeared beside me and looked at what I was making.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Chicken piccatta" I told her.

Sipping her wine, she watched as I deftly prepared the meat and began to brown it in the pan.

"You're pretty good," she remarked, watching me as I moved about.

"When you live alone, you learn things real quick," I replied.

She nodded in agreement.

Just over ten minutes later everything came together and I scooped out servings for both of us and placed them on the table.

We talked as we ate, picking up where we left off the last time we had spoken. We each had two servings accompanied by wine before I removed the dishes and suggested we relax before I brought out dessert.

"I'm not fancy so make yourself comfortable," I told her as I propped my feet on the corner of the coffee table. She followed my lead by taking her sneakers off and curling her legs under her body.

We sat a few feet apart on the couch, my body twisted looking at her, she leaning on the couch back, still sipping her wine.

Out of habit, my eyes gravitated to her exposed legs. Their form, neatly tucked under her, kept distracting me and I had to force myself to keep my eyes focused on her, not her legs.

Apparently I didn't do a good enough job because she eventually asked if she had spilled something in her lap.

"No," I told her, "it's just a guy thing."

"Huh?"

"The way women can curl their legs under themselves with such ease," I said, nodding to her position.

She looked down and let out a small laugh when she realized what I meant.

"That, and you do have nice legs," I blurted out.

She looked at me, my comment sinking in.

"I appreciate that," she started, "but you and I wouldn't go well together."

"Huh?"

"I'm a lesbian."

For whatever reason, I had that thought in the back of my head for the longest time. I couldn't tell you why I thought that, I just did. There was something about her that I hadn't been able to put my finger on and now it all came together.

"Ya know," I began, "the thought had crossed my mind."

She looked at me with her wide brown eyes, her glass stopped just before her mouth.

"It did? When?"

"Probably when we bumped into one another a few years after high school," I told her.

"Really? That far?"

"At least as much as my decrepit mind can remember," I tried to joke.

She smiled and took another sip of wine.

"I don't care," I continued, "one can't control the way they're born. But I have to ask the obvious question, when did you realize it?"

She didn't say anything for a time, as if gathering her thoughts, then casually explained that she had come to the conclusion when she, like me, was more interested in the sight of a shapely pair of legs or the curve of a woman than she was in how big a guy's bulge was or how buff he was.

"Oh. Well that makes sense."

I wanted to ask more questions but felt it best not to pry to far into someone's personal life. Especially this someone.

"Ready for dessert?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Something really special. I figured since we never spoke much in high school, the least I could do was be a decent host."

She smiled as if in appreciation of the effort I was making, and unwrapped her legs before following me to the kitchen.

I reached into the freezer and pulled out two containers.

"Vanilla or chocolate," I asked, showing her the labels on the ice cream.

She laughed, realizing I had been joking about a special dessert, and asked for a little of both.

After scooping out a few balls of each ice cream, and adding some butterscotch topping and whipped cream, we went back to the living room where she again curled her legs underneath her body and had her dessert.

When we were both finished I cleaned up the dishes and asked if she wanted some more wine. She politely refused but did want some water. As she sipped her drink, we continued to talk about this and that. Time had apparently made it easier for us to talk, as if we were old friends who hadn't seen each other in a while.

Eventually it was time for her to leave and as we stood at the door, I opened my arms and gave her a hug. I'm not normally that type of person, even with friends, but it seemed the thing to do as we both had enjoyed our night getting reacquainted.

It sounds silly, and maybe it was the wine, but she was squeezably soft. I held her for a bit longer than I should have but she didn't seem to mind. I told her to take care as I watched her get into her car and drive away.

What we talked about was between her and me and I put it all in the deep recesses of my mind. There was nothing to say, things were as they were, and I never gave another thought to our meeting.

A month later I ran into her and Joyce and, like before, made small talk.

"I never thanked you for having me over," she said. "It was nice talking to you."

I smiled. "Not a problem. If you're daring enough to try again, let me know."

She nodded as if in agreement and the two of them went their way and I mine.

Near the end of the month Linda called me and asked what I was doing that weekend. I told her my meeting with the Queen of England wasn't until Monday so I was free.

She didn't say anything for a few moments, I'm sure she was wondering if I was kidding, before she asked if I wanted to hang out. I didn't have a problem with that and we agreed on a time.

When she came over this time, she bore a cake. "If you're going to make dinner, the least I can do is make dessert," she told me as she stepped inside. A quick glance at her trim figure showed she was wearing a red shirt, black skirt and flats.

As she walked to the kitchen I couldn't help but watch her walk. She might be a lesbian, but she was still a woman.

"I'll never look a gift cake in the mouth," I joked.

This time I was making stir fry. While I can hardly be called a master cook, I can hold my own. She watched as I did my best to stir and fry the small pieces of beef before I mixed in the vegetables and cornstarch slurry. As everything thickened, I laid out a bed of rice on our plates then scooped out the meal.

As before, we ate and talked, though this time things were more relaxed than the first time, and we told each other about some of the funny things we had gone through over the years while sipping our wine.

"This is good," she told me, holding up the glass.

"It's from a local winery. It's more a fun wine. You throw it in the fridge and pull it out when needed."

We finished then went to living room where I turned on the television. I put in my DVD of Sneakers and we settled in to watch the movie. About halfway through she suggested we cut the cake so I stopped the movie and together we went to get our dessert.

The cake was a peanut butter and banana pudding combination. I hadn't had anything like it and was duly impressed.

"I see someone's been practicing their baking skills." I winked at her as I had a quick bite before we returned to the movie.

"It's something I picked up from my mother so don't make fun of it," she replied.

"I'm not making fun. I really like it. It's different."

She smiled and took a bite of her slice before turning her attention to the screen. I had brought the remainder of the bottle of wine with me and added some to her glass as well as mine. We watched the rest of the movie, with a little commentary from me about my favorite lines, then relaxed with our drinks.

"So how are you and Joyce," I asked. "Not trying to be nosey, just asking."

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you two ...?"

She burst out laughing at this intimation.

"No, Joyce and I aren't together. Why would you say that?"

"I just thought since I always see you two together that you were seeing each other."

Again, much laughter sprang forth from her and I knew I was way off base on this one.

"We've been friends since high school and just hang out. I'm not actually seeing anyone at this time."

"Well then, that was a mighty fine tasting foot," I said, trying to play off my completely misguided assumption.

Taking a sip of her drink, she looked at me, her lips upturned in a grin, and asked, "What about you?"

"What do you mean?" She caught me off guard with that question and I paused my glass at my mouth.

"You're obviously single because you've never mentioned anyone else."

"Oh, that," I answered. "What can I say, aside from the monthly orgies, I just haven't met anyone that piqued my interest."

She stared at me, pondering my comment, before she asked the obvious question.

"Monthly orgies?"

"Oh yeah. They're great. Once a month I get together with some folks and we have at it. I'm exhausted but it's great fun.

You should come along some time." I casually sipped my wine, doing everything in my power not to laugh.

"I don't think so," was the terse reply.

At that point I rolled my eyes and began to laugh. "Come on," I started. "Do you really think I go to orgies? If you hear me say things like that, you're just supposed to laugh."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Though she tried to hide it behind her glass, I saw a smirk on her face as she took another drink of her wine. She adjusted herself on the couch, resting her arm on the back, and looked at me.

"I see you need to hang out with me more so you don't think I'm serious when I say things like that."

"And what makes you think I want to hang out with you after that comment," she countered.

"If you didn't want to hang out, you would have walked away by now."

She smiled and looked out the bay window, the light of the day now replaced by the dark of night.

"You alright to drive home?" I asked. We had gone through an entire bottle of wine and while not drunk, I had that warm and fuzzy feeling.

"I'm fine," she replied, looking at her nearly empty glass.

We talked for a few more minutes then she rose to leave.

"Thanks for dinner. Again."

"Not a problem. It's nice not eating alone. Besides, the dessert was better than last time."

She laughed then stepped towards me and gave me a hug. I presumed it was her reciprocating for my hug the last time so I returned the favor. As before, I liked how she felt pressed against me and we stood as one for an extended time.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?" I jokingly asked.

Almost sleepily she pulled back and looked at me.

"No," she replied. "I just feel relaxed with you."

"I'm guessing that's a good thing?"

She smiled yet kept her arms loosely wrapped about me.

"Gees, had I known you'd be like this," I said, "I would have talked to you more in high school!"

She laughed again and looked up at me.

At that moment I leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. As soon as I did I realized what a stupid thing it was I had done and stepped back.

"Sorry," I apologized, my hands falling to my side, a look of what I can only presume was near horror on my face.

She paused, seemingly tasting me on her lips.

"It's ok."

"I shouldn't have done that," I apologized.

"It's ok."

At this point, things I had running around in my head since we had bumped in to one another on New Years came to the fore at this awkward moment and in part due to the wine I had consumed, I told her how I really felt.

"Linda," I started, "at this point in time, now that we're beyond the high school years and supposedly adults, I just want to say that even back then, I found you attractive."

She didn't say anything but had a look on her face of a cross between confusion and concern.

"I mean, you've always had what I considered a nice body, a nice smile and, don't take this the wrong way, that cute little overbite. You know, like Kate Beckinsale or Lacey Chabert. That, and as I mentioned last time, you have a great pair of legs as well."

I saw her mouth start to open, whether to say something or because of shock at what I was telling her, but she quickly closed it.

"And I'm sorry at what I just did. I should know better. I'm..."

"Keith," she cut me off, "it's ok." She took a step forward and laid her head on my shoulder while wrapping her arms about me.

Following her lead, I encircled her with my arms and we stood as one, my comments still having their effect on us both.

She lifted her head and looked at me. She didn't seem upset. Instead, she was calm and relaxed.

"Would you kiss me again?" she asked.

I blinked my eyes at her request. "Are you sure?"

"Uh huh," she quietly nodded.

I gave her a moment to change her mind but she didn't, her eyes looking into mine. Leaning down, I gently placed my lips on hers. This time, she responded by pressing into me, her lips pushing back against mine. A moment later I heard her inhale and her lips parted, her tongue finding mine, our arms pulling our bodies closer together.

We embraced for a time, our arms loosely holding each other, caught up in this act of passion.

When she pulled back, she lowered her head for a moment then looked back at me.

"Ok?" I asked.

She nodded, but I could sense some confusion in her eyes.

"You sure?" I again asked.

"Uh huh."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How was it?"

"It was ... different."

I blinked my eyes at her comment, unsure how to take that comment. I had learned long ago that when a woman says something is different, it's usually not a good thing.

"Different how?", I asked, my normal curiosity getting the best of me at that moment.

"Just different."

I didn't press the matter. It was different. That was enough.

She looked down then back up.

"I see it wasn't different for you."

I laughed when I realized she was referring to the hard on in my pants.

"You're a woman. What can I say?"

She smiled and looking down, leaned her head against me.

I could only imagine what was going through her head. I shouldn't have done what I did, but it was too late.

I heard her take a deep breath before she again hugged me. I didn't say anything but responded in kind. Her warm, soft body pressed against mine, my hands holding her to me.

"Keith," she quietly said.

"Hmm?"

"Can I stay the night?"

My mind, which had been slowly falling asleep as I held her, suddenly snapped back to reality at her question. I released my hold on her and looked into her eyes.

"Really?"

She nodded, almost sheepishly.

I mentally counted to five to give her the chance to change her mind but she never did.

"Okaaay," I drawled. Taking a hand, I walked with her to my bedroom. I was somewhat unsure how to proceed.

"Let me change the sheets for you and get you your own towels," I told her as I walked to the hall closet. Pulling out the requisite items, I quickly stripped the bed and put on the new sheets.

She had said nothing as I did my thing. In fact, it looked like she was going to fall asleep standing up.

"There ya go," I told her as I finished. "I'll sleep in the living room." I felt awkward at the whole situation but she had asked so I obliged.

"Thanks," she said, sitting on the edge of bed and giving me a small smile.