Whispers From My Heart

(Author's note: This story is 14 Lit pages long. Please take your time reading and enjoying it. BTW, it is a purely lesbian story with regard to religion and its effects on lesbians)

Chapter 1

There is no doubting that a female is a work of art, some more so than others, a few bordering on perfection. It was something that I concluded for myself when I finally began to see what I'd been denied for so long. The longing of my heart had tried to whisper its desire to me for many years, but it had always been veiled by all that I had been taught since birth. Now that I was free of all the lies, I was often lost in my enjoyment of what had always been my greatest desire. I'd not actually known of it consciously as I say because I was raised in a strict religious faith.

My parents were very firm believers; we lived in the heartland of what is known as the bible belt of America. We'd often gone to different churches or their revivals, but mostly we were Baptists of the most fundamental kind. I remember when I was very young that we went to one of those churches where they gave free vent to their spiritual impulses, some suddenly standing and singing in rapturous joy, some "taken with the spirit" and rolling on the floor twitching and jerking.

Incredible as all of that is to me now, even more incredible was seeing a preacher somehow taking up rattlesnakes in his hands and holding them to his head. That was too much for me back then and I had shut my eyes and covered them with my hands. I had heard of this, and even that some were bitten by those snakes and they had died from their deadly bites.

Talk about being traumatized, and having it all not just seep into my being, but becoming a part of me in such a way that I knew I was destined to be just as my parents were, which is total believers in how we envisioned Christianity to be.

"They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover."

That's in the King James version of the bible in the last chapter of the gospel said to have been Mark's. I never heard of one being bitten and not dying from the bite, or bites, but that was how they all believed. I nearly believed it all too. There was only one thing that kept me from it.

I'd always preferred playing with other girls, being close to them, but as much as they'd let me, I tried to stay out of girl's clothes. That seldom happened unless it was hot enough for shorts, but even then, it didn't happen as often as I wished it to. However, my preference for playing with girls, which wasn't unusual for any girl, was such that I shied away from the boys whenever I could. Nobody ever noticed that for the longest time.

As was the custom, my parents wanted children right away, or so I was led to believe, and I never doubted that. When it was years and none was forthcoming, I was told that they went before the congregation to be prayed over, and still it didn't happen for a couple of years. Such was their longing, particularly my mother's, that when I finally came along, I was named Hannah as in the biblical mother of Samuel the prophet who was born to a similarly childless couple. Of course that I was a girl and not a boy didn't bother them, at least not my mother. She did finally, just like the biblical Hannah, have more children, albeit with a few years from one to the other.

However there was nothing biblical about me. Though I was just about on the path to being as religious as my mother in my beliefs, I suddenly found myself being slowly torn and feeling confusion, not to mention guilt, but that came a little later. Our church, as any would readily understand, was pretty much of a fire and brimstone type: believe, obey, and accept Jesus as your savior.

Repent and be saved; give up sinning and get right with God lest your soul be lost forever in the eternal fires of hell. Do not allow those devil spirits of alcohol to touch your lips. Praise God each and every day and do not forsake the coming together with your brethren in communal prayer. Oh yes, and homosexuality is an abomination unto the Lord our God. There's nothing he hates more than homosexuals, or so it was believed.

That's where my confusion began!

Some years before puberty, I had the sensing that I really liked girls. I've learned that it is not unusual for a girl to want to be very close to another girl, especially if she was what is thought of as a leader in a group of girls. However, my liking quickly became as an obsession to be near one particular girl who was never thought of as a leader. I thought of her as sweet, beautiful of person, and someone I just had to be near at every opportunity. There were never enough opportunities and before long I found myself day dreaming of her so much that it carried over into night time where it would become dreaming of her.

My dreams of her, Sarah, were always nebulous, having no substance other than that I sensed us almost together, and leaving me with a wondrous feeling of ineffable beauty. I know I sighed endlessly in my dreams, I was so happy to be near to her.

In my waking hours, that desire to be near to Sarah was just as nebulous as my dreams of her, and I never permitted any conscious thoughts of my wanting to be near her in my waking hours. It was as if I'd blocked out thinking of her that way, yet sensing it as an unspoken thought, someone who was just there.

That was how my life was for the longest time–as an unspoken thought!

I'd been so tightly raised that I never permitted anything to interfere with how I should be, how I should act, and even how I should think. I'd often try to block out thoughts of Sarah, but then find myself in a day dream about her. Keeping my confusion to myself became as important as thinking about being near Sarah, and in due time, I was tearing me apart. I just didn't understand myself, why I was so pulled this way and that.

As happens, Sarah became a thought of the past that I seldom revisited, though when I did, it was all so fuzzy, yet those few thoughts always left me feeling slightly nervous and ashamed, not to mention warm and making me blush. Gratefully, as I said, I seldom thought of her so it wasn't too hard a thing to keep from others, namely my parents. Then again, they were always so into being churchy that they didn't notice much else in our house.

Maybe I forgot about Sarah when I began to see other girls in the showers, and naked in all of their glory. In all of their glory because that's how I began to think of girls. Invariably I'd find something about them worth looking at with a relish that pulled deeply at me, and sometimes a lot to look at in one or another girl. I'd be so embarrassed that I'd quickly have to look away, or down at the floor or my own feet, and that was easily noticed by the other girls.

They knew I was a big church goer, so they guessed that it was religion that made me shy about being naked with them. In part, they were right, but mostly not. No, I just found myself loving to look at them, but was sensing that it wasn't proper, but also that it would wind up being a huge problem to me. However, the mixture of my guilt–yes guilt as well as shame–fast became a torture that I looked forward to. I just couldn't help my growing wish to admire, I called it then, all that I saw about them.

I lived that way for the longest time, never going out on a date, and really having few friends even in the church, and none of them close–Sarah having moved away and my not allowing myself to think of being close to anyone else, again, not consciously though I had to know of what I was doing.

In due time, my mother had to ask if I'd thought of marrying, and if so, did I have anyone in mind. That set my mind into turmoil. My confusion was as never before, and I fought to control my near stammering.

"No," I finally said. "I haven't met anyone yet that I feel comfortable with."

"Well, maybe you will soon enough. Don't worry about it. Time will do it's thing as it always does."

My mother's lack of perception into any part of my inner person saved me from goodness only knows what. Finally her deep sense of religion served a good purpose for me.

Did it really serve me well, though? For sure it led me to begin to wonder about myself, to openly try to admit what all was hidden in me, but still, I fought it hard out of habit. There was something there and I knew it, and though it wasn't fully buried in me, yet some part of me wouldn't let it out to where I could face up to it.

When I graduated from high school I went to college, a small one to be sure, and quite Christian, but they allowed sororities. I was in one, probably due to their need of more sisters to make it more as if a popular one as it seemed all sororities tried to portray their selves.

Still, it wasn't as some of the larger colleges, and not quite as liberal either as I understood it. In part, that meant that we were in need of funds to do some of the things we set out for ourselves to do, and that meant fund raising.

Being as innocents, our methods were very simple, almost child-like. We bought cards such as for Christmas and other occasions, as well as some jewelry that we were to take orders for, and other trinkets, which meant going from door-to-door in various close-by neighborhoods.

That's when my life changed, when I finally came face-to-face with what all I held within myself.

Chapter 2

"Hello, my name is Hannah, and I'm with..." I began my well rehearsed spiel.

I did fairly well in many of the homes, sold a lot, and even took some orders for jewelry and assorted trinkets. Then I rang the doorbell of another house near the noon hour.

"Hello," I repeated my opening lines.

Not surprisingly, as had happened many times before, she invited me in.

"I probably won't buy much if anything, but I was just about to have a sandwich and some tea. Can I offer you some lunch or tea, or maybe something else?" she said in the friendliest of ways.

"I hate to intrude..." I began to apologize.

"No worries, I could use the company. Come; let's sit at the kitchen table and see what you have and maybe have something to drink. It's the least I can do in exchange for your company," her smiling invitation continued.

She looked to be about thirty-five or so, and had a pretty face and slender figure much as I did, but with bigger breasts. As happened with many of the women I had spoken to, I was somewhat drawn to her, but more so, and that puzzled me mildly, but then I quickly sensed that there was something special in the way she spoke to me.

Everyone had been friendly to one degree or other, but she was different. She had instantly set me at ease in her presence and that was saying something.

"Hannah! That's a pretty name. My name is Rona Hendrickson. Now that that's out of the way, is hot tea okay" she asked with a pleasant smile that further set me at ease all the while it roiled me. More of those conflicting feelings I'd had before.

"Yes thank you, if it's not too much trouble," I said.

"No trouble at all," she said, and indeed, it was ready.

As much at ease with Rona as I was, we were soon talking like old friends. That was a strange feeling, the comfort I had with her and the ease with which my words tumbled out when appropriate, and all the while I sensed a peculiar warmth. The warmth ws as is usual with the warmth between friends, and it was more than pleasant, especially when I hadn't felt a warmth of this kind that I could remember since Sarah left.

"When you come back with my order, why don't you let me know and maybe come for dinner too, your company has been such a pleasure," she said when I'd been there a while.

Surprised, I was more than shocked by the instant nodding of my head in agreement, as well as the confirming words of acceptance that poured out of me.

"Yes, I'd like that if you're sure I won't be inconveniencing you."

She snorted mildly accompanied with a smile. "Nonsense. It's been delightful talking to you and I should like to do it again."

I left with the feeling of having known Rona since forever. That was a new feeling for me. I had no idea that such a meeting could occur, and it be as it was and me feeling so light on my feet.

* * * *

The feeling of warmth that I felt didn't leave me, and more, I found that I could hardly wait until her order–small as it was–was ready to be delivered. Though it was small, she had ordered a pendant that I thought was exquisite, and priced reasonably too. I thought she would be happy to wear it, perhaps often. When it arrived, I called her.

"Oh, good. How about you bring it on Friday and have dinner here then?"

"Yes, I could do that," I said instantly, my heart beating faster than normal.

I had a friend. Maybe I was premature in thinking that, but that's what I thought, what I preferred to think, and refused to allow any doubts to enter into my mind. When it was Friday, I fussed with what to wear, I was so excited. I put on a fairly new blouse and a coordinated skirt–at least it seemed coordinated to me–I so wanted to make a good impression.

* * * *

"Welcome, Hannah," Rona greeted me. "I hope you're good and hungry. The steaks are ready to go on, and everything else is already finished."

I'm sure I blushed, or maybe I just felt flushed from my excitement of the expected wonderful evening that held I knew not what in store. I handed her the cards and the pendant.

"Oh, good. Let's see how this goes with these clothes," she said, going for the pendant instantly.

It had an unusual design, much of it in a soft blue with a sterling silver necklace. It went more than well with her clothes.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think you have great taste," I said truthfully.

"Or you have a nice product here that just happened to fit some clothes that needed a little something to dress them up. Thank you. Would you like some wine to stir your hunger? I'm having a bit of sweet red wine."

I started to say no, but then thought that maybe I should, but just a little.

"I'm not much of a drinker; well, I don't really drink, but..."

"Then just a sip, enough for you to taste it and stir those taste buds for your steak. How's that?"

I smiled, a new flush of embarrassment coming to my face, and nodded my agreement.

True to her word, she did just give me a small taste. I liked it, but my training had me going very slow, little though there was in the glass.

"Rare, medium rare, medium, or well done?" she asked.

"Medium I think."

"That's how I like mine. Lately I've grown afraid of any meat looking raw."

As she moved about, I couldn't help but look at her again. Well, stare somewhat. Rona was pretty, and slender as I said, but she moved with a grace that was enhanced by her svelte figure. She had on sandals that looked good on her, and a skirt that was fairly form-fitting; not tight, yet encasing her figure in a way that was naturally flattering. Seeing her, I realized I was pretty much examining her and that caused me to blush. I was glad she didn't see how red my face had to be looking.

Something about her, how she looked, the way she was with me–casual, yes, but also leaving me with a feeling of intimacy. Once more I was glad she couldn't see how red my face must have gotten with that thought, but the thought embellished my feeling of some sort of intimacy with her.

Her hair was short, but not severely. It had a sheen of freshness, a silkiness that was beautiful to look at. Every hair was in place just like a model. Then it occurred to me that she might be a model considering the way she moved, her grace, not to mention a marvelous posture.

"Well, now it's ready. Let's sit to eat it and enjoy the good company. Oh, perhaps some iced tea for now?"

"Yes, thank you," I said. "I feel totally selfish not doing a thing to help you."

"Hmm, maybe we can fix that with the dishes when we're through. I can't have you feeling anything but useful, now can I?" she winked with a small, sly smile.

I swear, my heart fluttered and my face began to burn, but I managed to control it. However it didn't escape her this time.

"You blush easily, don't you?" she asked, her smile soft and playful.

It made my blush worse, and her smile became a grin.

"I'll not mention it again," she said easily. "Now let's eat."

She had cooked the perfect steak and we enjoyed it as well as occasionally making small talk between bites. She literally had me feeling as if we were old friends, even confidants as my silly imagination fashioned it–a very silly imagination.

True to her words, she and I washed the dishes and left her kitchen sparkling before going to her living room where we spent an evening of just gabbing and being comfortable with each other. Though I didn't learn much at all about Rona, I still felt light and happy when I left. Before that, though, she did insist on my returning the following week to reprise our wonderful evening. The flush of happiness that was in me was a flush I was more than glad to be feeling.

Chapter 3

That was the beginning of my love, of finding out who it was that I had shut up in me; the person that longed to come out though I hadn't consciously known it. There were times when I would sit in The Sweetest Angels, a lesbian club, and look at all of the females, admiring them, thinking of how it all began.

As I would look with dreamy appreciation at the many girls, women, on the dance floor, and those at the various tables and at the bar, my thoughts couldn't be stopped, nor did I want them to stop. How could I not have known or realized that I so longed to love another woman? That puzzled me, but more as a wondering at how things were for me.

My mother seldom hugged or kissed me, and my father was a fairly stiff person, a duty bound person doing as he thought proper for a man to be doing, taking care of his family as he strived to serve God. His rich voice as he sang was unmistakable, and he often sang solo "in praise of the Lord" as he always put it. I did love to hear him sing and I know my mother was proud of him doing so, not to mention all the others that approved with their " Amen"s as accolades afterward.

Those were few of the times when I felt a true kinship with him, and in a way, with my mother because of it. It was Rona who awakened me, brought me to life, caused me to truly appreciate my love of seeing other women, appreciating their femininity in their various ways, and appreciate them I did, and without end.

No, I wasn't an insatiable sexually needing lesbian, but I did mightily enjoy the sex part of it. My learning of myself was slow in starting. Rona and I had more than one more meeting that often included supper–we had many, and so much so that I was there at her place just about every Friday evening, and then on weekends. I loved being with her, and more, I was falling in love with her and didn't know it for the longest time, or at least is seemed to be a long time before I consciously knew it.

She did truly love having me with her; I could tell. There was no phoniness, no insincerity. She genuinely loved my company as I loved hers, and how could I not. It wasn't long before I was very much at ease in her presence from the moment I walked in until the moment that I left. In no time I noticed the way she'd touch my arm as she passed me, or I passed her. The touches were innocuous, simply two people who were friends and knew it, and had become very close in that friendship. What I began to notice was how I loved her fleeting touches whether on my bare arm or through my clothes, or her casual arm on my shoulder.

Those were all things I had never known before meeting her. Then there were the times when I began to spend the night with her. We'd stay up late gabbing of nothing at all, but enjoying every word that passed between us. One evening we had stayed up late, we woke up early the next morning, and I was dragging. We were sitting on the sofa as we so often did.