Oyster River

In any case, she had to make up her mind whether to wear jeans or a dress. She concluded that it didn't matter what anyone else thought, she should wear what she'd feel good in and what she thought Michelle would like to see her in.

She took out the dress and unfolded it, checking for wrinkles. It was sleeveless, in a red and black pattern, and came down to about two inches above her knees. She changed her clothes quickly, not wanting to be half dressed when Michelle came out of the bathroom.

Michelle finished her shower and dried off. She wiped the condensation from the mirror and took a look at herself. She got a brush from her overnight bag and ran it through her hair, then wiggled into a pair of black jeans that were just shy of being too tight. Her top was sleeveless with spaghetti straps. It left an inch or so of her midriff exposed. She patted her taut stomach. There were some benefits to hauling traps all day.

Laurel was standing by the window when she came out of the bathroom. She was looking at her compact mirror and applying lipstick.

"Wow you look great," Michelle said.

"You do too," Laurel replied, snapping the compact shut. "Do you know that your arms are one of the first things that I noticed about you."

"Really?"

Laurel nodded. "Oh yeah. I really thought they were sexy."

"Okay," Michelle said, sitting on the edge of the bed, "On your 'Am I A Lesbian' scorecard, mark that down as a plus."

She took a pair of calf high chunky heeled boots from her bag and pulled them on.

"What do you think I should wear?" Laurel asked, "Flats or heels?"

"How high are the heels?"

"Three inches."

"Wear the flats."

Laurel put on her shoes and went into the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror checking her hair. Michelle came in and stood beside her. They looked at their joint reflection.

"I think we are a cute couple," Laurel said.

"We're not a couple."

"Uh huh, sure we're not."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Have you got pockets in that dress?"

"No."

"Let me have your ID, so you don't have to bring a purse."

Laurel fetched her drivers license. Michelle slipped it into her hip pocket, along with her own, a credit card and the keycard.

"Ready for your queer debut?" she asked.

"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

The streets of the Old Port were bustling with tourists and locals, coming and going from the restaurants and bars that crowded the neighborhood. The walk to the nightclub was only a few blocks.

"Styxxx is the only place like it in Maine," Michelle said, "I mean, there are some other gay bars but, they're mostly full of older guys in jeans and flannels."

They stopped in front of black glassed double doors on the front of a brick building.

"This is it," Michelle said. She put her hand on Laurel's shoulder. "You look nervous. Relax."

"I'm fine," Laurel said, as butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

They stepped inside the dark club. The place was throbbing with loud dance music. Michelle took out their IDs and showed them to the doorman, then they entered the main area of the club. Laurel was struck by how much it looked like the clubs that students frequented in Amherst, or any other college town. There was a dance floor with flashing colored lights, a stage at one end of the room, a scattering of tables and a big bar stocked with scores of colorfully gleaming bottles of liquor.

Michelle took Laurel's hand and led her to the bar. About half the stools were empty. They found a pair together around the curve of the bar, where they had a good view of the whole room.

There were about a dozen people on the dance floor and perhaps two dozen more at the tables or clustered around the bar. Laurel leaned close to Michelle, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

"It looks to me like it's about half men and half women in here,"she said.

"Don't assume people's genders," Michelle shouted back. Laurel blushed. It hadn't taken her long to commit her first faux pas.

The bartender came over to take their order. He had spiky orange hair and wore a leather vest with no shirt beneath it.

They ordered margaritas and watched the crowd. Laurel was fascinated. There were a couple of men dressed in leather from head to toe, and a few who displayed what she thought was an effeminate bearing. Three or four women seemed very masculine to her, but for the most part the patrons, like the club, wasn't much different from any college night spot. The only difference, she thought with amusement, was that on the whole, the men were much better dressed and groomed than any college crowd.

"Do you know any of these people?" she asked Michelle.

Michelle shook her head. "I don't think so. I used to come here a lot when I was younger, but it's been a while now."

By the time they were ready to order a second drink, the crowd in the club had doubled in size.

"How do you feel?" Michelle asked Laurel during a rare lull in the music.

"I feel great."

"Do you feel like you've discovered your people?"

Laurel smiled. "I'm here, I'm queer, I'm getting used to it."

Michelle laughed and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek. The music started up again, and she swallowed the rest of her drink.

"Come on," she said, getting off her stool, "Let's dance."

Laurel felt self conscious as Michelle led her by the hand to the dance floor. Don't be silly, she told herself, everybody who sees you are in a gay bar, is in a gay bar.

The dance floor was crowded, but they found an open space. The music was mid tempo, and Michelle began to sway and bob her head as soon as she had enough room. It took Laurel a few moments to find her way into a groove, but soon they were both dancing, face to face, no more than a foot between them.

Michelle watched Laurel as she began to dance, and it made her think of videos she had seen of flowers blooming. As she moved to the music, she seemed to open up. She tossed her head from side to side, her blonde hair whipping across her smiling face.

The dancing throng crowded closer to them, pushing them together. Michelle placed her hands on Laurel's hips, and Laurel draped her arms over Michelle's shoulder. They danced like that for several minutes, staring into each other's eyes, despite the motion of the other dancers swirling around them.

The song ended, and in the moment of relative quiet before the next began, Michelle pulled Laurel closer, and pressed her lips to her mouth. The music began again, and the dancers resumed their movements all around them, but the two of them stood still, locked in their passionate kiss.

Laurel remembered the two women she had seen kissing in that basement all those years ago, and the spectrum of emotions they had evoked in her. And now, it was her kissing the pretty girl on the dance floor, she was, herself, the pretty girl on the dance floor, and she felt as if some spigot of joy had opened within her. She hugged Michelle tightly and dropped her head on her shoulder, and began to weep ecstatic tears.

Michelle was taken aback by Laurel's emotional outburst. "What's the matter, honey?" she asked.

Laurel raised her head. "It's just so much to take in," she blubbered.

A tall, heavyset man with gray speckled hair leaned over them, one hand on each of their shoulders.

"Is she okay?" he shouted.

"I'm just so happy," Laurel shouted back, tears running down her cheeks.

Michelle put her mouth close to his ear. "This is all new to her," she explained.

"In that case, I'm buying you both a drink," he told her.

He led them to the bar, and ordered three shots of cinnamon schnapps.

"I'm Gil, by the way," he said.

Laurel and Michelle introduced themselves, and they downed their shots.

"Wow, that burns," Laurel said.

"Consider it an initiation," Gil replied with a laugh.

"I just wish I hadn't waited so long," Laurel said.

"Oh, darling, I didn't come out until I was forty five."

"I haven't really come out," Laurel frowned.

"Well, you will when you know the time is right." He turned to Michelle. "And you...my god, I'd kill to have shoulders like that."

"Try hauling lobster traps all day. I'm looking for a sternman."

"Oh my god, you work on a lobster boat? That is sooo Maine."

"I'm from Boston," Laurel said. She was starting to feel a little bit tipsy.

"How did you two meet?"

"That's a long story..." Michelle said.

Laurel cut in. "I was on vacation with my parents and I met her and she took me to the shell barrens, and she kissed me and I got scared and ran away and got married and got divorced and came back to find her so I could kiss her some more."

Gil laughed and said, "Is that true?"

"I guess you could say that's the condensed version," Michelle said.

"Well, good god, it's a storybook romance. That calls for another round."

He signaled the bartender for three more shots. They tossed them down and Laurel said, "I want to dance some more."

They returned to the floor and began to dance. Gil leaned close to another man and spoke to him, and that man stepped over to Laurel, quickly hugged her, then danced away. A large leather jacketed woman followed him, kissing her on the cheek. Gil was spreading the word around the floor, and one by one, the other dancers came to her, with a hug, a pat on the back or a quick kiss. One woman said, "Welcome, sister," and another told her, "Live in love."

Michelle watched as the club's patrons came forward. Laurel's face was luminous. Michelle did not think she had ever seen anyone as beautiful as Laurel was in that moment.

They danced on, five, six more songs. The leather jacketed woman danced with them for a song, and Gil came back and joined them for a bit. Laurel's elation was infectious, and Michelle felt a lightness in her heart that a she could not remember experiencing in a long, long time.

Eventually, Michelle's energy began to flag. "Let's get a drink," she shouted to Laurel, and they returned to sit at the bar.

The bartender set two glasses of champagne in front of them and said, "Courtesy of the leather boys."

They followed his gesture to the other end of the bar, where a pair of burly men in leather raised their beers in a toast.

Laurel and Michelle tipped their glasses in return.

"Are all gay people this nice?" Laurel asked.

"Well," Michelle replied, "They aren't just gay, they are gay Mainers."

They drank the champagne, and Laurel said, "You must be tired. Have you been up since before the sun came up?"

Michelle nodded and said, "Yeah, we ought to go back to the hotel."

As they left the bar, several people waved and a few called out goodbyes.

"We have to come back soon," Laurel said.

Michelle wondered how long she intended to stay in Maine, it was something they had not discussed.

The Old Port was shrouded in fog as they walked, hand in hand, back to the hotel. Michelle expected Laurel to pull away when they entered the lobby but she did not. The desk clerk smiled as they went past, and Laurel smiled back at him.

They stood in front of the elevator and waited for it to descend. Laurel laid her head on Michelle's shoulder. "This has been the best night ever," she said.

"I hope you don't think it's over," Michelle replied.

The door slid open and they stepped into the empty elevator. As soon as it closed behind them, Michelle turned to Laurel, gripped her by the waist and kissed her hard.

Laurel took a step back and leaned against the wall. Michelle pressed up against her, raised one hand to caress her breasts and kissed her under her chin and at the base of her throat.

The elevator chimed and the door slid open, but they continued to kiss. When it started to slide closed again, Michelle reached her hand out to block it and push it back.

They fast walked, almost running, to their door. Michelle dug the keycard from her pocket and swiped it. They rushed into the room and tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, exchanging flurries of kisses on their lips, their cheeks, their throats. They stroked each other's backs and arms. Laurel drew in a sharp breath when Michelle gently squeezed her breasts.

After a long, deep kiss, Michelle pushed back, rose up on her knees and pulled her shirt over her head. She unfastened her bra and shrugged it off. Laurel reached up and gently touched one of her breasts with just her fingertips, then softly squeezed it and drew circles around the nipple with the pad of her thumb. Michelle ran her hand up the inside of Laurel's thigh, under her dress. Laurel closed her eyes and held her breath in anticipation. When Michelle's hand squeezed her mound through her panties, she made a sound somewhere between a hum and a moan.

Michelle leaned forward, kissed her on the lips and pressed her thighs apart. She moved to a kneeling position between them, then kissed her again, and slid down her body. Lying between her legs, she dragged her fingernails up her thighs and across her hips.

"Rise up," she whispered. Laurel lifted her hips and Michelle tugged her panties down. She raised Laurel's feet into the air, pulled the panties off and tossed them aside.

"Don't be nervous," she said.

"I'm not nervous," Laurel lied.

The next few seconds seemed to Laurel to last forever. Then, she felt Michelle's warm breath on her thigh, and a kiss just where her leg met her torso, and another, at the edge of her dowdy patch of blonde hair. She felt a tickling sensation that must have been from a dangling strand of Michelle's hair, and then, soft warm lips on her labia.

This is really happening at last, she told herself, then pushed that thought away. She needed to stop thinking and just feel.

Michelle made a V with her fingers, spreading Laurel's opening. She flicked the tip of her tongue up and down her inner lips, then pressed her tongue forward in long, slow licks.

Laurel reached down and rested one hand on Michelle's head, and caressed her own breasts with the other. She wasn't thinking now, she was lost in the liquid feeling that seemed to spread from between her legs through her whole body. When Michelle's tongue touched her clitoris, she felt like she was levitating.

Michelle tongued Laurel's clit, slowly at first, circling it, flicking it, slowly dragging across it. Her face was wet with Laurel's secretions. When she pressed first one, and then two fingers into her vagina they slipped in easily. She stroked them in and out while cupping her lips around Laurel's clit, continuing to play it with the tip of her tongue.

Laurel wanted to speak, to tell Michelle how good she felt, to beg her for more, to thank her for the incredible feeling of release that was overwhelming her, but she could not form words, all she could do was stare up at the ceiling, her open mouth gasping, her chest heaving, until her hips began to tremble and her orgasm surged through her.

Michelle felt Laurel's thighs squeezing tighter around her, her hips bucking, her back arching, but she did not stop. She kept working her fingers in and out, kept sucking and licking. She reached up and grabbed Laurel's shaking hand. She gripped it tightly until Laurel finally collapsed limply to the bed.

Michelle moved to her side and took her in her arms. Laurel rested her head against her breasts. Her breathing was still ragged and she could not yet manage to speak. After a few minutes, she began to softly kiss Michelle's breasts. She drew her head back a little bit, looked at them closely, and ran the tip of one finger over them, circling the nipples. She took one nipple between her lips and caressed it with her tongue, then raised her face to Michelle's and kissed her.

"I can taste myself on your lips," she murmured.

After several minutes, Michelle got up and went to the bathroom. She filled a glass with water, drank it, then filled it again and brought it back to Laurel.

Laurel sat up and drank it while Michelle perched on the edge of the bed and unzipped her boots.

"Let me help you," Laurel said. She climbed off the bed, knelt in front of Michelle and pulled the boots off. Michelle stood up, unfastened the waist of her jeans and pushed them, and her panties with them, below her hips. She sat back down and Laurel tugged the leg of the jeans the rest of the way off. She then clutched at her dress and pulled it up over her head. When her arms became tangled in it, Michelle helped her pull it free.

They gazed at each other for a moment. "You look incredible without any clothes on," Michelle said.

Laurel was surprised that she did not feel self-conscious about Michelle looking at her naked body.

"So do you," she said.

Michelle bent down, held Laurel's head with both hands and kissed her. When their lips parted, Laurel said, "I want to make you feel good the way you made me feel."

She hesitated for a second and added, "I want to eat your pussy."

Michelle laughed and said, "Well, when you put it that way..." She inched forward to the edge of the mattress and spread her legs.

For a moment Laurel just wanted to look. She had never seen another woman like this before. She had only once or twice used a mirror to look at herself.

She reached out and ran her fingers back and forth through Michelle's dark bush, then with just her middle finger, drew a line down along the crease between her legs. She leaned in closer, put a hand on either side of Michelle's vagina and spread it open. Looking up, she saw Michelle leaning on her elbows, looking down at her.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," Laurel told her.

She shuffled a little closer and, still looking up into Michelle's eyes, lowered her face between her legs. She closed her eyes for a second, took a couple of deep breaths, then tentatively reached out with her tongue until it touched Michelle's flesh. She gave a little lick, then pulled back.

"Don't be afraid of it," Michelle said, laughing.

Laurel stuck her tongue out again, and felt it slip between Michelle's labia. She began rocking her head up and down.

Michelle reached out and stroked her head. "Relax, baby," she said.

Laurel looked up at her and nodded. She lowered her face again and let her tongue hang from her mouth, rather than try to stick it out straight, as she had before. She licked the length of Michelle's vagina from back to front.

"That's better," Michelle said.

Laurel could taste Michelle's wetness. It tasted of salt and lemon. She began moving her tongue faster, licking up and down, poking it in and out. I'm really doing this, she thought, I'm really eating pussy. Her nervousness dissipated. She began to relax and enjoy herself.

She rose up a little, wrapping her arms around Michelle's thighs. She kissed her in the middle of her pubic hair, then ran her tongue up towards her navel and kissed her way back down until her lips found the hood of her clit. She poked her tongue out and found the little knob.

"That's it, baby," Michelle said, "Suck on it."

Laurel put her lips over it and sucked. Michelle shifted on the bed, softly moaning. She nursed it harder and faster, and felt Michelle quiver.

"Did you come?" Laurel asked her.

"Not quite, baby. Don't stop."

Laura began sucking again.

"Use your tongue," Michelle murmured.

Laurel began licking up and down over her clit.

"Fuck me with your tongue."

Laurel pressed her tongue into Michelle's vagina, as deeply as she could. She worked it in and out until Michelle gripped her hair and pulled her head up.

Michelle was breathing heavily. "Suck and lick my clit at the same time," she gasped, "Suck it hard."

Laurel's cheeks were beginning to hurt, her tongue was growing tired, but she kept going, anxious to please Michelle, to make her come.

Michelle lifted her feet and wrapped her legs around Laurel's back. She pulled her head tighter into her crotch.