Companion

"I don't know."

"Well, you'd better fucking well figure that out and fast." She got up and left leaving behind an air of disgust that seemed to fill the room.

A sense of disgust I soon realized that was filling me. What was I doing, did I have any fucking idea at all?

I walk at lunch if I have the time or if I absolutely need to. Today was one of those days. Is she gay? Yes, probably, if not it was obviously something she could do. Am I? I knew I didn't care, I just wanted to be who was emerging in me. It's a spectrum thing, my sister once told me. None of us is a 100% of anything — well, everyone but her. We're all a matter of degrees, that's what she said and that's what I've been thinking about. I've always known I'm not a bona fide heterosexual, that I was in many ways deficient. But last night, as I pulled her onto my face, as all my senses flooded with her femaleness, her femininity I came alive in ways I had never been with my husband. It was as exhilarating as it was confusing.

So that was me, the first truly aggressively sexual act of my life. I played that over and over as I walked with a sense of awe: I had finally let myself go.

When you finally realize who you are, you immediately evaluate who you're with.

Our relationship is wrong, obviously wrong, egregiously wrong, I didn't have to dig deep to figure that out — I discovered that last night, this walk only confirmed it. But the loss could be a gain. Who am I, what are my needs? The question that I asked myself last night as I fought for asleep was more exquisite than the orgasms I'd had on the floor because it came with an answer that meant the abandonment of all my inhibitions.

When I walked back into my office I felt for the first time ever like a sexual being. There can be clarity in confusion, like when a single emotion surfaces within turmoil and you act on it: Maria shouldn't be a lover, she should be a daughter, a girl I can love and want desperately to look after.

There was a paperclip on the edge of my desk, I bent down and flicked at it sending it across the room like a message.

Most of the time she isn't there when I get home, she knows she doesn't need to be ... I would be off on my walk anyway and not back until at least 7. But it was raining unusually hard so I reached for the bottle instead, I wasn't going to be able to do this without assistance — if not the steadying influence of exercise I could use the calming influence of booze.

My fingers were firm on the bottle, it was even tipped over the glass ... I held it there, at that angle for maybe a full minute before I moved over a couple of paces and drained the wine into the sink. It was going to be rough sailing, I could have no doubt about that, I would be dealing with an unknown me, but if I could keep a steady hand on the tiller I could get there; with her help I could get there.

There were tears when I laid it all out for her, of course there were tears, legitimate, streaming tears but how much would change? Everything, yes, but not a lot, too. She would be in my life, every inch of her would be in my life; we would grow together; I would take care of her; she would have what she wants ... but as my daughter not as my companion.

I never confide in my sister, she doesn't confide in me, we just read each other, look for the variables that suddenly appear out of place and deal with them. In fact, there aren't many variables with her. She's a predator type, always hot on the chase — she's always been that way, even through her four inevitably failed marriages. I am her opposite, if I was a believer I might have done well in a nunnery.

But with Maria I'm a changed person. Sisters notice ... the hint of a spring in the step, better moods, even an occasional laugh, she wouldn't miss that.

"Have you thought about it?"

"No, it slipped my mind."

She laughed. "Even you aren't that dead. I want an answer in an hour ... if it isn't you I've got to find somebody else, I said I would."

She brought it up yesterday, not in my office with the closed door but whispered in the hallway: she is going to meet a guy tomorrow night who wants someone for his wife. Think about it." Laughter.

She was just leaving my office. "OK," I said.

She did a pirouette. "Really?"

"I don't want to talk about it ... when are you gonna pick me up?"

I had thought about it ... like it was a controlled experiment: I would be in a safe and secure place to have sex with a woman my age. It was a chance to see if I was right, if I really do want a sexual relationship with a woman my age like I think I might. I had to find out because I wasn't going to let Maria go until I had the prospects of a soft landing — being alone again is just not an option for me, I know that.

It was Maria's idea and she was there by my side immediately after work, in front of my computer. She had lined up a few 5 to ten minute lesbian porn videos as a training tool. How many variables are there? That's what I wanted to know. There weren't all that many with my husband, there wouldn't be with a woman but I wanted confirmation that I knew what I would be getting into ... and what I should be reasonably expected to be doing.

Janet called to say she was parked out front, I think she was surprised I answered the phone. And surprised I was ready, surprised I got in the car, surprised, probably, that I wasn't well fortified with booze.

"I've got to say, I'm surprised." She grinned at me, her thoughts already on her adventure.

"So am I, that you would ask me to do something like this."

"Why? You're into girls, so why not?"

"I was into a girl ... and for not very long."

"You're here."

"I'm here." I agreed.

Nice house, nice guy meeting us at the door, nice couple welcoming us in, attractive, looked to be low 50's, healthy looking — Dan and Dottie, Dottie in a slinky dress high on the leg and showing a whole lot of cleavage that immediately put me at ease: I could do this because I wanted to do this ... with her. Really? I checked in with the beat of my heart, the heat in my groin, the saliva in my mouth ... really, it surprised me a little but, yes, I wanted to have sex with this woman, I wanted the next chapter of my life to start, like start right fucking now.

There was an over-stuffed couch facing a matching chair and love seat in a smallish room. I got the love seat and Dottie handed me a glass of wine which I placed on the coffee table in front of me and ignored (as I promised Maria I would).

Janet was on the couch across from me, not quite sprawling in her trade-mark way but close, her skirt higher than would be polite, but polite she has no intention of being judging by the expectation on her face.

And then Dottie was beside me, her hip against mine, an adult, erotic touch that told me I was in the big leagues now, she isn't some post-teenal neophyte ... and to confirm it her hand came to my cheek to turn my head so her lips could touch mine — touch, tease, seduce ... linger, her tongue playfully poking as her hand came across and her fingers curled around my breast and squeezed.

When I made the decision to come it was to get whatever I could from it. Could I be with a version of me? Did I want to be with a version of me? Did I enjoy being with a version of me? Could I put out for a version of me? It was the last question that would answer all the other's. It was the last question that was at once scaring me and cheering me on.

Maria picked up on it in the videos, I didn't. The one's that worked, the ones that looked like they were honest and real and having fun were when the woman opened herself up physically, falling back, her legs opening suggestively, her arms opening not protecting her body, then closing on her prey.

Yes and the corner of the couch was a perfect fit, my near sprawl lured her in, my arms capturing her as my open mouth welcomed her tongue. I have kissed with Maria, just kissed but never like this, never with this hunger, her's and soon mine, adult desire, no guilt, guidance, responsibility, two women who want to find something in themselves, revel in it, then get it out, wet and wonderfully ... like life isn't the desert you've made it.

Another thing Maria picked up from the videos, you want to do this in stockings not pantyhose.

I looked over at my sister when Dottie's heavily bejewelled fingers went between my legs. She appeared fascinated by us, slightly gobsmacked as was Dan for that matter, maybe more so because he was licking his lips.

And then it was over, she was standing up, she was reaching down for me, she was pulling me to my feet then leading me out of the room, down a hall ... in a hurry and we were entering a big bedroom with an enormous bed that looked more like a playing field. I fell onto it with her, her knees immediately going between my legs, her¡s gripping my thigh with vice-like strength.

Then the shock. Them, my sister only in her underwear, Dan completely naked with an erection that looked like a weapon, they were there, beside us, the married couple with the sisters.

I've been clear about what my needs are: to find out. It was soon clear what my bedmate's needs were: I am geography, she wanted to explore, discover, then hang-out in.

My clothes were gone quickly, I helped, doing my best to ignore my sister and I helped her with her's then I became an object. She spent a little time on my nipples then kissed and sucked down my belly until she got to where she always planned to be, nestled between my legs, I knew that because she took some time to make herself comfortable ... like dogs do, she planned to curl up and be there for awhile. And then it started and I knew immediately that I am a submissive and equally quickly that I'm just here to offer her my pussy and as quickly as that she is spectacular at it, not just with her lips and tongue but with her fingers.

I was the centre of attention, to her obviously and literally, but to them, too, but in truth they were looking at her mostly — her lust, her need. Mine would be harder to detect given that, beyond offering my body, I may have appeared somewhat manikin-like, all but inanimate.

With her dining out on me I had all the time in the world to feel embarrassed or at least squeamish but the sensations were kiss about as overwhelming as her need so, as curious as I was to see my sister in action, I didn't bother with them, beyond noticing with glee that Janet has some loose skin around her belly and her breasts looked too firm to be real.

Anyway, I just went with it, went with the slow glide towards ecstasy ... until I realized she was just settling in, this would be no quickie, so I settle back and turned inward to some heavy soul-searching.

And learned quickly that my equivocations should be over, I want this, I want this in a companion, I want this kind of sexual fulfillment, this brazen, overt expression of need, this feeling of life-affirming lust like I am a battery in the process of giving a full charge ... while being drained of every bit of my energy. And, oh yes, a companion would be nice.

I sipped my wine awkwardly, she had taken my position on the love seat and I had her's leaning into her, her arms around me, one hand on my breast, her fingers absently stroking it gently.

"I usually like to spend some time with the panties on at first to tease myself."

"But that's the way you like to do it?" It fascinated me: her sense of action was entire self-absorption ... with her lips and tongue in my sex.

"It's selfish, I know ..."

"No, that's not what ..."

"No, it is, I know it, he does everything well but he can't do that."

"So you're bi."

"Dan knew that from the beginning, we're all on a spectrum, right? Mine tends to be a sliding spectrum, I can be totally his until I need what he can't supply. I embarrass myself, I know but I don't care ... you made me feel whole."

"How long will that last ... the satisfaction?"

"A month maybe, maybe not, maybe I see someone ... frankly, it's a pain in the ass but we probably all have a version of it."

"Of?"

"Of some version of our sexuality that we'd rather not have. What's yours?"

I knew at once my answer. "My indifference, the opposite of lust. It can take hold of you insidiously, you don't know it's happening and then you're there in a rut and you don't know how you got there or how to get out of."

"And you were there?"

"Bad marriage," I said, laconically.

She chuckled ironically. "That'll do it ... and?"

"And?"

"You're here, hardly a rut," she laughed, "especially the way I do it."

I laughed, too when I got the pun. What did I want to admit? The basics, ending with the admission that I was here to test drive a woman my own age.

She laughed again at my use of the term test drive. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself, I'd say I passed."

"I'd say so too."

"So have you ever test driven that?"

Janet was coming in with Dan who still had a trace of an erection. There was now just a hint of loose skin over her carefully manicured pubic patch, her breasts looked spectacular. "We're just friends," I said.

"What about her?" Dottie said to Janet, pointing at me. "You have a girlfriend this beautiful, you know she likes women and you don't want to give her a try ... to jump her bones?"

Janet laughed. "Who said I don't, she's never shown any interest in this," she swept both hands down to showcase her body.

"I'm afraid of her," I butted in, wanting to put an end to it. "You don't want to make out with some girl who ... can break you." I laughed, nervously.

"You have the same breasts, have you noticed that, the same aureoles anyway, they're unusual, that they're ovals isn't so unusual but your oval's are east-west not north-south which strikes me as more common."

"You're an expert?" Dan said with an exaggerated curiousness.

"Look at them, they just look the same."

I placed my arm over my chest defensively. "I will not be inspected critically."

"Ya," said Dottie, "none of us can handle that."

We were about as quiet in the car leaving as we had been arriving, after my opening. "It never occurred to me we would all be on the same bed together."

"Me neither."

Maria was waiting for me, reading a text book we had just purchased. She pretended to be interested in how the evening went, pretended because while she knew the wisdom of the unsustainability of our sexual relationship it didn't mean she liked my decision. She didn't, not at all, arguing that we should at least try to get a few more years from it, certainly past graduation. I was adamant, I thought I had to be but sitting there giving her a bare bones account had me second-guessing so I pulled away and had a bath.

She knows me and knows my vulnerabilities. She brought in a glass of wine and quizzed me further and later slipped into my bed telling me that the thought of me having sex with another woman troubled her ... and excited her. I allowed myself to become an object for the second time, this time with more investment.

We had found her a nice place near the university; she was due to move in a week Sunday. But she was wary of leaving me. She knew that beyond discovering my new sexual potential and my new-found desire for a partner my own age, I had accomplished nothing; the moment she left she knew I'd probably revert to that woman in Florida or worse, the one before who spent so much time with the bottle. She was right.

Her plan for me was to stay and make it her full-time job to replace herself. I balked, I wasn't there yet, I hadn't actually given it a lot of thought either — I was still revelling in my sexual awakening and my new-found potential. But she insisted and she was right. I'm gutless and the booze, I knew, always beckoned.

We dealt with the first part of her plan for me on Monday. I left work a couple of hours early and met her at an address not all that far from my office. If I wanted to be who she thought I should become I had to look the part.

Fashion has never mattered to me, I had made that abundantly clear to her and manifestly obvious. Not good enough. I needed a new look and if I didn't know anything about fashion she had someone who did. I was to buy what I was told to buy; we would find a charity for what I owned.

The woman was Filipino like Maria, they seemed to know each other a little — I guessed she had met her through the Filipino club. The woman took charge, she knew her stuff. After a few outfits the style she was choosing for me emerged and I liked it, nothing too progressive, not too conservative and I liked her sense of colour. I was liking what I was getting and I was liking most not having to think about it and not having to make any of the decisions.

Two hours, more money than I had spent on clothes in the past ten years but I thought I'd be looking pretty good and ten years younger, well, maybe five.

My sister laughed at me the next morning in my new look but I expected that; I didn't expect her to approve. She did. Even enthusiastically.

And Maria laughed at me when I got home and declined the invitation that we go out to dinner. Wrong, I would be going. She had one of my new outfits laid out on the bed along with new fancy underwear that had just appeared.

It was weird, when I walked into the restaurant the woman from the store stood up and greeted me like an old friend, commenting on how great I looked in my new attire. The woman with her, I soon learned, was her daughter, a friend of Maria's. I only sat down when Maria did; I had no idea that we would be dining with them..

The woman's name is Jessa, the daughter, Mary. Maria set the tone by describing the shopping spree to Mary — basically how I was lead kicking and screaming into trendy times. Maria was funny, both women laughed and I did too but I wasn't getting it; sitting there with these people was entirely disorienting. Why were they there? Why was I?

Maria informed me just before the entrée came. She had nodded to me as a signal, I left for the washroom with her and while a few women eavesdropped she told me that Mary had told her that her mother was widowed almost two years ago and that she wasn't sure but she thought she wanted to date a woman, she knew she didn't want another man. There, the bombshell, then she immediately left to go back to the table. Deal with it.

Jessa looked at me quizzically when I sat down, waiting for a reaction from me. She is a delicate, pretty woman, sweet, kind looking but there is nothing docile about her, I learned that yesterday in her store. And there is nothing docile about her now. As I sat there feeling foolish she explained, "This is to see if we might like to have a date together." Then she quickly added, "I'd like that."

"Done," said Maria, actually clapping her hands with excitement. "When?"

We all laughed, even me and with the business side of the dinner over we all relaxed — we all have a story; this wasn't the place to tell mine or hear her's.

"Timing, right? Timing is everything," Maria said on the street as we walked to my car. "That's why you and I got together. Timing. That's why it's going to work out with Jenna. Timing. The timing is just perfect for you guys."

"Nonsense, she doesn't know anything about me."

"Well, no, she does, she knows everything about you that I know and she knows she wants to get to know you, that's what yesterday was all about — the clothes were nice but you were in that store for her to find out if she wants to get to know you."

I had just settled in the car when she said this. I freaked. "What! That whole thing was a set-up?"

"You would never have gone if I told you the real reason."

I sulked, she let me, she was still riding a high. We were going to be perfect together, she was convinced of it.