Iowa, 1954

"Eileen Ruth, pay attention!" my mother hissed as she realized I was looking out the open window to the dried, brown church yard.

"Yes, ma'am."

The service droned on. The ancient organ protested as old Mrs. Harold played "How Great Thou Art" for the 3,462nd time in her life. I yawned through verse two.

Lou caught my attention again by stretching. God she was tall and beautiful. I could see the strength in her hands as she adjusted her hymnal...then discreetly tore out a page. I balked, looking around frantically to check that no one else had noticed. She rolled it up and slipped it into her pocket while the congregation folded their hymnals and prayed one last time. As we were dismissed, my mother fussed over a smudge on my brother's shirt, trapping them in the pew for a moment.

I slipped free and called out, "Meet you outside!" as my father waved me away.

Outside, Lou waited for me under a maple tree. "Hello there, Eileen," she said casually.

"How are you this blessed Sunday?" I mocked. I loved the smile that stole over her face. Her gaze traveled down my body appreciatively like it had a thousand times in public, but it still made me shiver.

"I'm excellent. Beautiful service today."

My back was to the church doors, so I rolled my eyes, "Yes, just grand."

"I hope to see you at the Fourth of July social next week. Dad's in charge of the pig roast."

I tried to school my features, but I couldn't stop my grin. We both knew we'd be long gone before the Fourth. "Of course, I wouldn't miss your daddy's pork for the world."

Lou burst out laughing and had to hide it with a cough. You didn't laugh on church grounds. "Yes, well-" she had another 'coughing fit', "have a great afternoon." As she passed, I felt her press a piece of paper into my hand. I snatched it quickly and tucked it into my Bible bag.

"Eileen, dear!" My mother's unpleasant voice called from the church steps.

"Coming!"

"Was that Louisa Jean I heard coughing? I hope you didn't get too close, don't want you coming down with a summer cold."

"No, ma'am," I sighed. We walked home in silence, well, I was silent. My mom prattled on about the pies she needed to bake for the Fourth and how proud she was my brother would be in the parade with the scouts.

Part of my heart ached. I loved the Fourth of July festival. The whole town came together and there was music, food, games and even dancing. But, I thought soberly, I'd never be able to dance with who I really wanted. That's why I was leaving, why WE were leaving, I reminded myself.

That night, I read the note Lou passed me. Scribbled on a page of the hymnal were the time and place she'd meet me. I packed an old green duffle my dad got from an Army surplus store in 1949. I left a note on my bed for my parents along with the ugly church bonnet. Sneaking into my brother's room, I left a note apologizing for losing his Eveready and two dollars to replace it. I also slipped a bag of peppermints under his pillow. He was a sweet kid, he'd do alright here.

Then I gave my house one last look before slipping out the back door and jogging across the adjoining acres. Lou was waiting for me on the county road in her uncle's beat up Ford. She helped me toss the bag in the back, then wrapped her arms around my back and nearly bent me in half with the force of her kiss.

"I'm so glad to see you."

"Still thought I was going to stand you up?" I teased.

"Nah," she said. "But you are notoriously late when you get to fiddling with your hair!"

I laughed. She laughed. The night air whipped through the truck as we took off for the bus stop in Cedar Rapids. Her uncle was going to pretend to be ignorant of our plans and then he'd have someone drive him up to get his truck in a few days. But for now, the road was ours, the night was ours...our life was our own.

...

San Francisco turned out to be better than we'd ever dreamed. Lou's job at the garage was sealed after the second day. Her uncle's friend had had a tricky case on a diesel engine that Lou was able to hammer out in a day. He let us sleep in the garage for the first few nights until we found an apartment not far from there. I got a job at the grocery store by fudging a bit how much I'd helped my dad in his shop.

We worked during the week and took long walks by the piers in the evenings. Our neighbors were kind, but not too invested in our lives. Then we began to meet others like us; women who lived together, men who'd left small towns to pursue art or music, and people who just wanted to live without hymnals and sermons.

The first thing Lou bought was a set of sheets for our bed. They had little yellow flowers on them and felt buttery soft. She made love to me on those sheets our first night. Her strong hands pulling my apron off, then unbuttoning the front of my shirt. She reached up under my skirt to pull down my briefs, but left my full skirt on my waist. Pushing me back against the bed, she kissed up one of my legs then down the other, holding my ankle so I couldn't squirm too much. She made me be patient.

"I love you Eileen Ruth. And even if I can't make you my wife legally, I promise to treat you as mine, until the day I die."

"Fuck," I croaked with tears. "I love you too, Lou."

She smiled, then kissed my center fiercely. Her tongue, which I'd craved for days as we slept in the garage, caressed me. We'd been too scared to do anything more than hold hands as we cuddled on the old couch in the greasy shop. Being in a bed together for the first time felt momentous.

Lou's hands were everywhere as she worked under my skirt. I kneaded my own breasts with one hand and held her head in place with the other. Evening sunlight streamed across the room from the open window and shined on Lou's curls as she licked me. I didn't want to close my eyes and miss a moment of this.

"Yes, baby, yes!" I cried as she slipped fingers into me without removing her mouth. She curled them, almost beckoning me closer to her. Her tongue drew across my clitoris back and forth while she stayed inside me. My own fingers gripped her hair desperately.

I was right on the edge there, holding on for dear life, when Lou looked up at me. Her bright, blue eyes blinked, a look of pure determination (that I would one day call her "fuck me eyes") lingered there. Then I was done. I felt every muscle in my body tense for a moment, two, then relax all at once in a waterfall of pleasure. My toes stayed curled.

She pulled away with a grin. "You look beautiful in my bed," she said as she pulled her fingers out.

I gasped at the loss of contact, then narrowed my eyes at her cheeky smile. "Oh no, no, no, I think it's YOU that looks good in MY bed!"

"Oh, I see. I buy us sheets, you own the bed?"

I laughed, "Okay, the bed is both of ours."

Lou licked the slickness off her lips as the smile never left her face, "Sharing everything?"

"Everything," I agreed.

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