The Dream

Author's Note: If you're looking for a story that goes straight to the sexy bits then this one may not be for you. I hope you read it anyway but I just wanted to give fair warning that I wanted to get in depth with this story and really explore the passion that can occur between two women.

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I've often heard it said that ones' sexuality is apparent early in life. We've all seen testimonials starting with the phrase, 'I always knew I was different...'and they go on about how they never quite fit in or had to hide their feelings due to societal norms. This was not my experience.

Maybe because I've always enjoyed dating men and having sex with men, my feelings towards women (although, obvious to me now), were trapped in the common snare of convenience and fear. It was convenient because let's face it, it's always easier to meet and date men. They tend to be wowed easily and are uncomplicated in their desires; at least that has always been my experience. As for the fear, well that's because it's the unknown.

Firstly, there is the reaction of friends and family to worry about. Secondly, since I live in a quite small town filled with quite small minds; it would affect me, my reputation and likely my career. Not to mention the relationships I'd built with friends and family. Anyway, I digress. This is the tale of my journey to the other side of my sexuality; when I forgot my fear and when I was bored enough with the convenience of my situation that I opened the door to a whole other world.

It was her lips I couldn't stop dreaming about. I'd wake up feeling alive with feverish lust and excitement. It had all been a dream but it felt so real and I hadn't wanted it to be over. In a futile effort to return to the dream I would focus on her lips and hope to drift off into the sensuous land of her soft, red lips bearing down on me, (taking my own in the most tender yet intense kiss I'd yet to experience). The following day would be spent in sexual frustration and unrelenting daydreams.

Oh sure, I'd fuck my boyfriend but I could never truly feel the same desire and intrigue that her gorgeous soft, red lips would give me. Time and time again, the dream would come to me and I knew not of whom she even was, but the one thing I did know was that I needed and wanted her more than anything. There was a hunger spawning within me and the name of that hunger terrified me.

Confusion became my constant companion. Attractive women no longer intimidated me or made me envious, (in fact, I'd often catch myself checking them out). Still, I didn't understand it; I knew nothing of Kinsey and his brilliant scale of sexuality. Besides, I liked my boyfriend, Logan. I liked having sex with him and more explicitly I loved his cock. I enjoyed the feeling of it deep inside me, the weight of it in my hand and taste of it in my mouth.

I even liked all the things that some women purport not to like, such as giving head and letting him cum in my mouth. I was infatuated with his body, his muscular chest and tight abs. It was a body he'd developed the hard way; through the intensive physical labour required to become a driller on a service rig. Then there was the wonderful endurance he had from working so hard; just the thought of our marathon fuck sessions could get me tingling and damp.

Eventually it became too much. I became certain I was a total lesbian and would have to 'come out' to my parents. That doesn't seem as intense prospect at my age now but as 23-year-old apprenticing mechanic, my individuality was much more interlocked with the beliefs of my family and friends. I feared it would affect me at work. I worried about my friends and family thinking different of me. My mom always had said, 'I don't mind if you are gay but honestly, I hope you aren't because that isn't an easy path to thread.'

In hindsight, that deterred me greatly because at the time not only was she right but I hadn't yet realized that there are no easy paths in life. The path you thread must be your own and that is all.

As the weeks went on, the dreams returned sporadically and without warning. Logan was starting to notice the change in me and my boss was "disappointed" in my performance of late. After a few distracted days at work and a serious warning from my boss after some foolish mistakes, I decided I should see a therapist. I needed to deal with this and soon.

Optimistic as ever, I figured all it would take is a few sessions and the dreams would stop and I would be fully satisfied by my sex life with Logan. There would be no more visions of beautiful red lips crossing wires in my brain, no more screw ups at work and best of all; Logan didn't need to know.

Logan and I had only been dating a few months and although I liked him a lot we weren't exclusive. Our relationship just wasn't serious enough for me to confess this to him. I was scared of his judgement and worse; what if he assumed this meant unlimited threesomes with any two-bit floozy he could find at our local watering hole? In all my uncertainty I knew that was something I couldn't deal with straight away. He was a handsome man with brilliant blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was so fit and muscular with such an innate sense of humour and cheerfulness that he had the eye of many "ladies" in our small town.

I think it would be fair to say that if any woman wanted in our bed, I wouldn't be the draw. Besides, that wasn't the experience that I was craving. So there I was, armed with a plan akin to "praying the gay away" and I felt secure that this was but a passing phase. My sense of relief was cut short but I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Due to living in a small prairie town I couldn't find a private sex therapist in town so I was on my way to Saskatoon. It was a preternaturally warm day in May when I jumped in my bright red '67 Mustang convertible. I put the top down and enjoyed the unseasonably warm air blowing through my dark red hair as I took off down the highway.

The car was my baby. Dad had rescued it from the salvage yard he owned and helped me restore it. It was because of dad and this car that I decided to become a mechanic. It was also because of this car that I even met Logan; it tends to draw a lot of attention. Hell, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I look pretty damn fine behind the wheel (yeah, that's right I used present tense, I still look damn fine in that car).

In retrospect my wardrobe choice for my first meeting with a therapist was maybe a bit risky. I wore tight leather pants that clung tightly to my curved hips and heeled leather boots with not too much of a lift, (as I am a fairly tall woman as is). My white swoop-necked tank top showed off the tops of my creamy white breasts and I felt trepidation on looking down and noticing just how much skin I was showing off. As with any woman with largish boobs; it is hard to wear certain styles without putting off a 'XXX' vibe. In my ignorance of modern day therapy, I hoped my new therapist wouldn't label me an irredeemable slut and then, not without some humour, I smiled at the ridiculous prospect of a therapist judging their client so harshly.

I wondered what she would be like. Old? Young? Fat? Angry? Frumpy? Sexy? Some variation thereof?

I laughed out loud when the realization dawned on me that I had been picturing her as Sue Johanson this whole time. Johanson being a 70-year-old pseudo-celebrity in Canada- known for her frank and educational call-in sex talk show. Just imagine your grey-haired grandma teaching you in detail how to put a condom on properly and that's her.

As I walked into the office, I had to ignore the leers of a clearly mentally unstable gentleman. This caused me further reason to regret my choice in clothes. Looking for the receptionist, I spotted her quickly behind the desk at the front. She was a gorgeous strawberry blonde that made me want to reevaluate my whole plan of eradicating these feelings.

Her hair was tied back tightly to her head (almost severely), but nothing could diminish the sultry beauty of her face. Her green eyes met mine and she smiled brilliantly and warmly revealing a perfect smile. 'Well, if this doesn't work," I thought to myself, 'I might have to keep coming back just to see her.'

"Um, hi." I stammered- a veritable bundle of nerves all of a sudden.

"Hi there to you too, how can I help you today?"

"Dr. Lawrence... I have an appointment with her... or him... uh I guess that it could be a guy." I said with a nervous laugh wondering why I had assumed it was a woman.

"No, you were right the first time." She said reassuringly. Obviously dealing with stumbling neurotics like me was her forte. "Have a seat, hon, it won't be long now." she said.

She called me 'hon'? Don't think I hadn't noticed that because I most assuredly did and it made my heart beat just a little bit faster. True enough to her words; it wasn't long at all when I noticed a graceful brunette enter the room from the rear office. Looking down at the sheet of paper in her hands she spoke with a voice like thick velvet,

"Jamie O'Brien?"

I startled foolishly at my name and realized a little late that I was supposed to respond. I was surprised.

Was this her? Did she really walk her patients down to her office herself?

"Yes, I'm Jamie." I stood up and walked towards her.

"You can follow me," she stated simply.

Her voice was deep but soft and very feminine. I followed behind her, trying not to check her out. She wore a black pencil skirt that hugged her round but slender hips. Her loose blouse was professional and not revealing of her form but the skirt made it clear that she was a woman that took great care of herself. 'I hope she takes good care of me,' I thought, (not sure exactly how I wanted her to take care of me).

There was no proverbial couch to sit on, just two comfy looking armchairs. She sat in the one that was to the side, presumably so I wouldn't have to look her in the eye if I didn't want to. Once seated, she spoke softly but her voice was one that could resonate throughout an entire room.

"So, Ms. O'Brien," she said while referring back to her paper, "May I call you Jamie?"

"Please. Um, what should I call you?"

"At this stage I would discourage familiarity so you may call me Dr. Lawrence." She continued without preamble,

"Now, what brings you here?"

I spilled it all: the dreams, the confusion and even some of my fantasies; how I was in a happy heterosexual relationship and didn't appreciate this disruption in my psyche, (that this can't be normal and maybe I just need to talk through it). She listened closely with an imperceptible expression on her face. When I finished with an audible sigh; she addressed me.

"I would like to hear more about your dreams but first, I would like to know what you hope to achieve from this therapy?"

"I just want to go back to the simple old me."

"And what if this is 'you'?"

"It can't be," I cried out, "I mean... it never was before. How can it be now?"

"Have you ever heard of the Kinsey scale?" She asked and I shook my head indicating 'no'.

"Basically it is a scale numbered from 0-6. '0' being entirely heterosexual and '6' being entirely homosexual. Everything in-between is a combination thereof. The world, Jamie, cannot be separated into black and white. There must always be grey and there will always be grey. Our time is up for the day and don't wish to impress any labels on you as enough people will do that on the outside. What I want you to do is to ask yourself, 'do I want to live in a world without grey? Do I really want close a window to a view of the world because its vastness makes me uncomfortable?'

Please take some time to consider what I have told you. It may be that you want to change how you feel but it would be unprofessional of myself to suggest that that is even a possible outcome. Remember you can have desires and not act upon them if that is your wish but to deny that they exist is to deny a part of yourself. Most people experience lust towards another person that is not their significant other, that's natural, just as your feelings are. Just because they desire another person besides their boyfriend, husband, wife or whatever that doesn't necessarily mean they will act upon those desires. Now, I would like to see you next week. Please make an appointment with Jodie on your way out if you wish to continue our sessions. I feel we have much to explore but honestly, I don't think this is as awful as you fear it to be."

"Jodie is the nice blonde lady?" I said a little too eagerly.

Dr. Lawrence smiled while nodding, seeming to know more about my eagerness than I and stood up.

I followed her out, my mind too full to appreciate the doctor's beautiful slender form in front of me. If I could accept this and maybe even try it out, then there was hope that I can know if this is me or not. Making a quick plan in my mind I straightened my shoulders and dispelled as much of my anxiety as I could.

She led me to the waiting room and turned to take my hand. I shook her pro-offered hand with more confidence than I had exhibited in the months since this started. I was on a mission and I was determined to embrace the grey or at very least prove the good doctor wrong and return to my normal life. Dr. Lawrence turned lithely and walked away. Swaying my hips slightly, my confidence somewhat restored, I turned and walked towards the receptionist's desk.

"I'd like to make an appointment for next week." I stated.

If she was surprised by my sudden change in demeanor- she gave no sign. She promptly gave me a card with my time and date for next week. Worried this was the untimely end of our interaction I said,

"Hey, so I'm not from town and am thinking to stay the night. Are there any good pubs nearby? Maybe a band or something I could check out?"

"Well now, that is interesting that you ask. I just happen to play bass in a local band. We are playing the Woods Alehouse tonight. Great little place, good atmosphere and great craft beer. Do you like beer?"

Laughing I said, "does the pope shit in the woods?" I was almost unable to believe my good luck. I had planned to ask her out for a drink with little hope of success but here she was practically throwing me a lifeline.

"Are bears all Catholic?" she joked back. "Awesome, then that's the place to go. We play at 9. I hope to see you there." Then she smiled at me with a barely perceptible wink, "Maybe we can have a drink after the show?"

"Maybe, we can. Thanks." I could barely contain myself but I made certain not to show that.

And I couldn't help but notice her beautiful, full, soft lips as I turned and left.

I arrived at the bar around 8:30; nervous that I'd left it too late to find a good seat. Never before had I ever come to a bar by myself but that didn't really worry me. I had much bigger concerns.

I decided to keep the black leather pants that I had worn earlier; it wasn't as though I had something more appropriate to wear to a rock show. Nor would it have been appropriate to leave behind my black bustier and matching silk panties which were a little wetter than could be explained away by the heat. I found a sheer white top that exhibited my ample tits sandwiched together by the bustier and showed off my stomach, tight and firm from my normal work in the shop and much less regular jogs. The shirt was fairly see-through but I didn't care. I had nothing to hide in my youthful- fit physique.

The bar was fairly busy when I walked in but I quickly spied a small table off to the side of the stage that would suit my purposes perfectly. A few heads turned to look as I walked by but most were engaged in their own conversations. I knew I looked good but life isn't a music video and it's not as though most men cannot contain their urge to leer upon a beautiful woman. I was thankful though, it helped me feel safe in this bar and I was instantly relieved that I didn't punk out.

Jodie was right; the beer was fantastic, by the time the band hit the stage I was on my second beer and feeling good. I thought briefly of Logan and missed him slightly but I was, in my own right, happy to be on my own. Be it the therapist's words, my success at managing a second meeting in one day with the intriguing Jodie or both, I did not know but I felt light-hearted and care-free.

I watched intently as the band took the stage. The lead singer was an absolutely stunning woman of Native American descent. She interested me briefly but I was much more consumed with my search for Jodie. She came onto the stage last and my heart literally skipped a beat when she entered my sight.

Her lovely, wavy, strawberry blond hair was loose around her face, accentuating her natural beauty to a breathtaking level. She wore tight blue jeans with rips in the legs wide enough to reveal her toned legs. She wore a tailored shredded shirt that left very little to the imagination. Her breasts were larger than mine I realized in anticipation (of what? I wasn't sure yet) and I was reminded of Logan telling me that my tits were the perfect size and that if I had any more they'd be wasted. Should I be able to touch hers... I didn't feel they'd be wasted though, not at all.

I indulged briefly in a fantasy of what I would do were I given the chance to unsnap her bra and I began to feel some real heat spreading from inside my tight leather pants. The pounding of a bass drum amidst a delicious bass lick signaled the start of their first song. I squirmed futilely in my chair and crossed my legs to try and quell the burning desire spreading from my loins throughout me. The music was loud, concise and theatric in a style similar to Florence and the Machine. I couldn't help but smile as I read the banner with their name, 'Pussy Quiet' scrawled across it; no doubt an allusion to Pussy Riot- a band they couldn't be more dichotomous to. Jodie was clearly a talented bassist. Her fingers moved like lightening on the strings and up the neck. I couldn't help but imagine was else those fingers could do as I felt a warming wet surge flood my panties. Never could I think of a time I'd literally gotten so wet without some sort of physical contact. It was at that moment, that I knew this was going to be the longest show of my life.

With a sense of resignation, I focused on the show and was not disappointed with their performance. I couldn't take my eyes off Jodie and was pleasantly surprised when she took the mic for a few softer numbers. Her songs, like her voice, were husky and raw in the style of a subdued Janis Joplin. Although I was disappointed to see her retreat to her position of bassist; I was thoroughly impressed by the quality of their music. The lead singer's voice was clear, strong and powerful.

Eventually, their set ended and the bar seemed to clear quickly. I sat quietly with the hope, I was exuding an air of confidence even if I was filled with trepidation. After some time she and the rest of the band emerged from the back stage. She saw me immediately and acknowledged me briefly with a nod while holding up one finger in a gesture to wait a few moments until she could join me. Then, I saw her approach a guy that seemed to have just arrived. He was handsome but clearly drunk off his ass. I didn't want to stare so I looked away after assessing enough from the situation that she was disappointed in his presence. My assessment brought me relief, I didn't want to have to compete with a good-looking boyfriend. I wanted her all to myself and whatever that might entail.

She joined me after a few minutes and luckily, the attractive man was nowhere to be seen. I was praying to the Indigo Girls -patron saints of all gay lady love- that he was gone for the evening. She sat down with a heavy sigh and I tried to ease the mood with a joke, "I'm glad you came over when you did. If you hadn't paid attention to me soon, I thought I'd have to get down on the floor and kick my legs. I would've done it too; don't think I wouldn't have."