The Reunion

How is it possible to be so tired and yet so wide awake?

I was on my way to see Sara. We had been on the phone every night this week into the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday I woke up with the phone on my pillow – we had both fallen asleep while talking. It was great to know I was going to be with her again. I couldn't wait to look into her eyes while we spoke and hold her in my arms when we made love. It's funny how everyday things seem so big when you can't have them. Phone sex was great, but I needed to be with her, and tonight was the night.

I could feel myself getting wet as I neared her exit. She met me at the door wearing a short, gray skirt and a loose blouse with the top three buttons undone. The room was warm and filled with flickering candles that cast a soft glow over her face. I kissed her softly and held her in my arms not wanting to let go. We rocked to the sound of K.D. Lang playing softly in the living room.

"Hi," I said after a few minutes.

She smiled.

"Hi back at ya," she whispered.

She took my hand and led me into the living room. It was a big room, sectioned off with beautiful antique furniture creating small, intimate spaces. On the walls hung some of Sara's art, two pastels and one watercolor, which I especially liked. It was a shame that she could never have any kind of formal instruction. She was really very talented. Her home was warm and welcoming, very much like its owner, and it felt good to be there. I sunk into my usual spot on the overstuffed couch. She brought me a glass of wine and snuggled in next to me. We talked about our day and slowly made the transition from being apart to being together. The process of "shifting gears" as we called it, something we were forced to do on a weekly basis. I sipped my wine then placed it on the small, oak end table next to me. I turned and kissed her. Almost involuntarily, my hand slipped under her blouse. I could feel the thin lace bra that covered her breast and her hard nipple pushing up against it. I knew it was the black bra I bought her for Christmas. She looked very sexy in it.

"Not now – we'll be late," she said, placing her hand under my chin and lifting my face to hers.

"I don't care," I mumbled.

"We can't be. They're waiting for us."

I didn't think meeting her friends tonight was a good idea and told her that when we spoke about it during the week.

"When I get there Friday, I want to be alone with you," I told her.

"Can't we meet them Saturday night instead?" I had asked.

"I know, I know," she replied. "But it's the only time they can meet us. They're leaving early Saturday morning. The flight was already booked and Jen couldn't change it."

Jen was her best friend and, in spite of both their efforts, they had been unable to successfully coordinate a visit for years. Ironically, this visit was not planned by either of them. Jen was attending an unexpected conference in New York. Her colleague, who was scheduled to present the workshop, had a death in his family. Jen was the only one in the firm who knew the topic well enough to take his place. Since it was last minute, they told her Kelly could also go – all expenses paid. Sara had spoken about both of them so often I felt as if I already knew them. She was so excited that we were finally going to meet.

"Fine, we can go now. But later I'm going to make you wait," I said as I winked at her.

"Hmmm...we'll see about that," she said.

"You'll be begging me – you'll see," I insisted.

"Yeah, right," she laughed. "Like you will be able to wait! You'll break down way before I do."

She gave me that sexy smile and a "fuck me" look that made me even hotter.

"I didn't say 'I' would have to wait...I said 'you' would."

She glanced at me from over her shoulder as she reached in the closet for her coat. "You're bad."

"That's why you love me. Well, that and no one else ever made you come like I do."

"Let's go," she said as she grabbed my arm and kissed me on the cheek.

Dinner was delicious and her friends were wonderful. I felt as if I had known them forever. They had been together for years, 13 to be exact. Thirteen years, two kids, three cats, and a beautiful home they pretty much renovated on their own. If there was ever a couple that could be the "poster child" for lesbian families, it was them. They were still very much in love – you could tell by the way they looked at each other – stolen little glances, shared smiles, tender touches. Their kids were beautiful – well adjusted and smart. They were proud of their two mommies and their moms were proud of them. They told the "our kids are so cute" funny stories. How Sara's godchild, Amy, now four, insisted on calling the kitten she had gotten for her birthday, "Pussy," after the cat in The Owl and the Pussy Cat. We all laughed when Kelly told the story about picking Amy up from nursery school. Apparently, Amy had been crying that morning. When the teacher asked her what was wrong, Amy, with tears rolling down her face, looked up at the teacher and sobbed, "I want Pussy."

"Oh my god, that's exactly what I said to Sara last night!" I blurted out. "I had tears rolling down my face too!" Sara slapped my arm.

"What? I did...don't you remember we were..."

"TMI," Sara said, turning slightly red.

"Yeah, yeah...I know...too much information."

They showed us pictures saved on their phone. Sara couldn't believe how big the kids had gotten and I couldn't believe how awesome their house was – huge windows providing a picture postcard view of the river, high ceilings, beautiful moldings, a kitchen with every modern convenience yet not infringing on the integrity of the 100-year-old home. It was amazing. Jen made good money. She was named a partner in the law firm where she worked for the last 15 years. She thought investing in their home would yield more in the long run rather than in an unpredictable market. Even in a bad economy their house would still bring top dollar. Between Jen's income and Kelly's talent, they were able to turn the rundown foreclosure into a showplace.

I wondered if Sara and I would ever have that life. I was a little older, so the idea of two little kids wasn't that appealing, but a solid, committed relationship that spanned more than a decade sounded great. One where we both were still crazy about each other, owned our own beautiful home, could work together on projects, supported each other and really be partners – not just two women that lived together – but two who really shared a life, and according to them, some pretty hot sex.

We were deliberately being very cautious about moving in together. Having both experienced the U-Haul relationships that lesbians are famous for, we agreed to go slow. I stayed in my home, she in hers. We shared weekends, vacations, and holidays together but maintained separate places. After almost two years it was beginning to seem silly. Our homes had become a mixture of both our things – I had as many tools at her house as she had shoes at mine. We helped each other purchase furniture, paint and decorate. It felt like we had two homes rather than each of us having one, but it was hard. There were times – many of them – when I would come home from work and just wanted her to be there – sitting at the computer, working in the flower garden – just be there. I wanted to snuggle with her and fall asleep in each other's arms while we watched mindless TV. That was hard to do over the phone no matter how often we spoke.

Of course the upside was that we always wanted each other – the time apart made us long for the touch, the smell and the taste of the other's body. A week of fantasizing and teasing kept us both in a permanent state of arousal. Sometimes it was hard for me to focus at work. I would be in a meeting and my mind would wander. I would think about being on top of her, on all fours with my breasts hanging in her face, my nipples brushing over her lips, her mouth opening, tongue stretching out to lick and lure them in. Me pulling away, teasing, whispering, "not yet." Phone sex was good – very good – but it seemed like foreplay compared to being with her. After nearly two years we had mastered the art of loving each other. We knew every inch of each other's body, every curve, the message behind each move. We knew when to go faster, slower, harder, deeper. We knew when to touch and when to lay still.

Never had I been with a woman who I knew so completely. I could make her come without touching her. It started as a dare: "I bet I can make you have an orgasm without laying a finger on you," I said one night over a candlelit dinner in Isla Mujeres. She laughed at the thought, and my confidence.

"You think you're so good?" she smiled. "You're good, but I don't think you're that good."

"Want to put it to a test?" I asked, excited by the challenge.

She leaned forward. "Sure," her eyes wide – her breath hot. I was getting wet.

"And if I can do it? What will you give me?"

"Hmmm," she thought. "What would you like?"

This was getting hotter by the minute. My head was spinning – the wine, the heat, the challenge. I didn't know what, but this evening was turning into one I knew neither of us would forget. I could hear the waves slapping on the white sand that we had been laying on only a few hours earlier. I had been looking out at the blue-green water as I rubbed oil over her tanning body. I had thought of it then, but sharing at that moment didn't seem right. This moment seemed right – it seemed perfect.

"Okay, if I can make you come without touching you, you have to let me tie you up. Tie you up and play with you for as long as I want, however I want."

Her face froze. She didn't blink, she didn't smile. She looked me right in the eye. Her eyes were the color of the blue water, and just as deep. "You're on," she said and then motioned for the waiter to bring the check.

That had been a great night and I was planning on tonight being even better. Although I was thoroughly enjoying our evening with Jen and Kelly, I was looking forward to going home and being alone with Sara. I was a bit disappointed when she suggested we go for a drink when the meal was over, but I knew it meant a lot to her. She hadn't seen her friends in over three years. Actually, the last time they were all together was for Amy's baptism. They had asked Sara to be the godmother and of course she agreed. It was the closest she would ever get to having her own child. We already discussed a trip out there this summer, but with such a history of failed plans I knew she wanted to take advantage of the time they had now.

We went to a bar in Greenwich Village. It was one of the oldest lesbian bars in the city and Sara had always promised Jen she would take her there when she and Kelly came to New York. It was Friday night so we knew Regina, one of our favorite performers, would be playing and Sara wanted Jen to hear her too. We walked in, paid the $10 cover charge, and worked our way down the steps into the dark and very crowded room. The place was packed but our timing was perfect. We were able to get a small table in the back just as a group of four decided to leave. We squeezed around it and ordered drinks. I put my hand under the table and found Sara's leg. My hand slid easily along her black stocking as I slowly inched up and under her skirt. She squirmed and tried to push it away. She hated me turning her on in public as much as she loved it. I slid my hand back to her knee. She sighed a breath of relief. Slowly I moved my hand back up her leg to the inside of her thigh and gently stroked it with my fingers. I could feel the heat radiating from between her legs. I knew it was driving her nuts and I loved it. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I'm gonna make you crazy tonight."

She turned to me, "You already are."

As if by plan, Regina belted out the first few words of "Crazy" by Patsy Cline. I stood up and reached for Sara's hand. I led her to the only open spot I saw on the floor and held her as we swayed to the music.

"Do you like them?" she asked as we danced.

"Oh god, yes! They're wonderful – gives me hope that lesbians can really have long, healthy relationships." We had both known couples who had been together for years, but it seemed that lately all of our friends were either breaking up or miserable.

"I know. Sometimes I get so afraid that we aren't going to make it. Then I see the two of them and think, 'if they can make it work so can we.' " Sara worried about us a lot. Not because we were having any problems – we weren't. In fact, we had a wonderful relationship. But we had our differences too. I don't think I can even call them fights, but there were times when one of us would inevitably hurt the other by saying or doing something stupid. We would usually both end up in tears recognizing that we caused the other pain. But when it was all over, we were always amazed on how much closer we had become. But as our relationship got better, her fears seemed to get bigger. Maybe she felt we had more to lose. Maybe she thought it just couldn't go on indefinitely being so wonderful, that sooner or later things would come crashing down. I don't know, but she worried and I tried to reassure her.

"We're fine, baby. Ya gotta stop worrying. We're gonna be just fine."

She held me even tighter. "I can't wait to make love with you tonight."

"And wait you will," I said teasingly trying to change our moment alone to a lighter, more playful place. "We have a deal," I reminded her.

"How come some things you just don't forget and other things you forget so easily?" she asked.

"Cause I think about driving you crazy all the fucking time – that's why!" I said as I squeezed her.

As the evening came to an end we all spoke about how wonderful it was to finally meet. Sara was thrilled. She had been telling Jen about me for over a year. I had heard about them since our first date. Jen had played a big role in helping Sara come out. Unlike Jen's parents, Sara's folks thought that "homosexuality is a sin!" The Bible said so, and so did the preacher they listened to twice a week. Their unwillingness to accept Sara drove her east as soon as she turned 18, never to return to Burlington, Iowa. It was there, along the banks of the Mississippi, where she and Jen grew up. Jen, on the other hand, went to the University of Iowa, got her law degree and returned to Burlington to join the city's most prestigious law firm. Being near her parents turned out to be a real plus when the grandchildren were born.

"My best friend and the woman I love both with me at the same time. It doesn't get much better," Sara said, and then quickly added, "oh, and you too, Kelly." She laughed realizing she had left her out. "You know I love both of you!"

We all hugged and said our goodbyes.

"We'll see you in three months," Sara yelled as the cab pulled away.

It was late when we got home but we were both wide awake and horny as hell.

"Let's go to bed," I said taking both her hands and pulling her toward me.

A huge smile broke across her face.

We walked up the stairs hand-in-hand. I could feel the excitement building inside me. She lit the candle next to the bed, turned on the iPod and began getting undressed. I looked at her from the edge of the bed where I was sitting. "Come here."

She walked over and stood between my spread legs. "Did you have fun tonight?" I asked as I took her hands.

"I had an amazing time! I'm so glad everyone got to meet. Jen and I have been friends since elementary school. She's like a sister to me."

"I know, I know. The two of you have gone through everything together, including coming out. I get it. I'm glad I met her too. They're both great. I'm happy you had such a good time. Now it's my turn to have some fun...not that tonight wasn't fun for me too," I quickly added as I saw the expression on her face change. "A different kind of fun," I said as I began to unbutton her blouse.

She reached down and began to put her fingers through my hair. "I love you so much," she said.

"I love you too," I said as I reached up and pulled her hands down.

"What? I can't touch you?" she asked with surprise.

"Oh, you'll be able to touch me, but only when I say so. In fact, you can't do anything unless I tell you." I unbuttoned her blouse. "Now take off your skirt," I said as I pulled down the zipper.

She pulled it down, stood in front of me as I slipped off her blouse. She was silent, serious. I could tell how turned on she was getting. She knew this was going to be a very special night. "This is going to be another Isla Mujeres night, isn't it?" her voice low, wishful and very sexy.

"Not exactly. If it were, you would know what to expect. I want to keep you guessing... wondering...hoping. Turn around." I unhooked her bra and kissed the small of her back. With a hand on each hip I slid down her thong.

I stood up and I turned the bed down. The smell of fresh sheets rose into the air. "Lay down, on your stomach."

I took my clothes off, threw them in the pile on the floor then opened the drawer of the nightstand and grabbed the massage oil. Warming it between my hands I began to rub it on her body – across her neck, down her back, over her ass. I spread her legs apart and moved my fingers lightly on the inside of her thighs. I didn't massage her. I explored her body with my hands – slowly, deliberately, passionately. I moved my hands over every inch of her smooth, soft skin but did not pause long enough to bring her lasting pleasure in any one spot. As soon as her body responded to my touch, my hands and fingers moved someplace else. She moaned – her body anticipated where my hands would be next and moved to meet them. Her legs spread wider inviting my fingers to rest on her pussy, to stroke it, to rub her clit, to plunge deep inside her. But they didn't. Instead they danced over her – here, then there – flitting like a butterfly from flower to flower sucking nectar from one then moving to the next.

I rolled her over. She reached up to touch my breast, to feel my erect nipple. "Not yet," I whispered. My hands moved over the front of her body, around each curve, around each nipple, making sure my fingers did not touch them. She pushed her body upward. "Touch my nipples," she pleaded.

"Maybe later."

My hands moved between her spread legs, my fingers lightly grazed her pussy ... and then they were gone.

"Oh my god," she moaned. "Please."

I straddled her. I let my breasts drag over hers, ours nipples touching. I moved them over her face. They outlined her lips, but I pulled away as she tried to suck them into her mouth. I moved down her body, this time kissing as I went – soft kisses, barely touching her hot skin. My mouth moved down her stomach, toward her pussy. When I got to the top of her pussy I paused – then kissed her just above her clit and lightly ran my tongue over it. She spread her legs even more while her pussy rose up expecting to meet my wet tongue. It was gone; it was licking the inside of her thighs.

"Touch me," she begged.

"I am touching...I'm touching you all over."

"Then fuck me!" she yelled. "I want you to fuck me!"

"You want my tongue on your pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Inside you?"

"Yes!"

"You want me to lick your clit and slide my fingers deep inside you?"

"Yes, yes!" Her breath was becoming heavy...she was desperate. She was begging me to touch her, to fuck her. She reached out to me.

"Don't touch," I warned, "or I will have to tie your hands to the bed."

"Please, just let me come."

"I want you to come for me." I reached over and pulled the black velvet bag out of the drawer. I tightened the leather straps around my waist and positioned the purple cock over her clit.

"Put it in me," she begged.