The Reunion Ch. 01-04

This is the tale of a middle aged woman who finally came to grips with her sexuality. In the process, she learned even more than she bargained for.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.

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Chapter One

"I don't want to go," I said emphatically into my phone.

One of my friends from high school was asking me once again to go with him to our class reunion. I didn't know why he was being so persistent. I told him" no" about a month ago and here we were plowing the same ground again.

"It'll be good for you to get out," Mark said insistently. Mark was usually right but I was being stubborn.

"No," I repeated. That should have been the end of the discussion, but I knew it wasn't.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because I'm not ready," which was my standard excuse for avoiding any social occasion I didn't want to go to.

"Beth, it's been two years."

"I know. But I'm not ready."

"Beth, Jonathan passed away two years ago. I know he would have wanted you to go." Mark was right again. But perhaps my personal insecurities were getting the best of me.

"I'll think about it." That should have bought me more time, but apparently this time it didn't.

"That's my girl. I'm booking my tickets tomorrow and I'll expect you to be sitting next to me."

"Jerk." But I really didn't mean it. Mark was and will always be my best friend.

"Whatever Beth. You'll thank me later."

"I don't have anything to wear."

"Nonsense. We'll go shopping tomorrow. You'll look fabulous. You'll be the best looking woman there."

What a sweetheart. Mark always knew what to say to me to make my heart melt.

But Mark did hit on one of my many insecurities. How would I look to my classmates after a 25 year hiatus? My highlighted shoulder length blonde hair looked good, maybe better than in high school given the professional attention to it by my well paid hairdresser. I'd put on ten (maybe fifteen?) pounds since high school. Fortunately some of it went to my boobs, but of course some parked itself on my midsection and butt. But would anyone be carrying their high school weight? And my face? There were a few crow's feet creeping in, but that was to be expected. Otherwise it was quite presentable, if not attractive. In my professional life I've learned to walk comfortably (that's a relative term) in heels, so my legs actually presented better than in high school, even after having two kids. I told myself that I didn't have to be self-conscious about my appearance.

My conversation with Mark transitioned into an update on my identical twin sons, both in college, the oldest (by two minutes) attending Georgetown and the youngest attending the University of Puget Sound. Thank God Jonathan was a successful real estate developer. Tuition, room and board was running about $120K a year, which was a major drain on my investment accounts.

Now I had a decision to make. Mark, one of my best friends from high school, lived in neighboring Livermore, which was about five miles from me. He "came out" in high school, much to the chagrin of his parents (and mine), but the intervening twenty plus years had been good to him. He now was a successful executive with a local tech firm and his husband of ten years was a popular local caterer. He had a heart of gold and I knew he was right. I should be going with him to my high school's 25th reunion, but I wasn't sure I could face my classmates.

I had all my miles with United, so I checked the miles required to fly to Toledo, Ohio. Unfortunately it was only 25,000 for the round trip from San Francisco, so that excuse wasn't available. And the reunion was at a Starwood hotel. I had accumulated at least a zillion Starwood points during my business travels as an investment advisor so there was now little to stand in the way from me and my appearance at our class reunion. I booked the airline and the hotel. It could always be cancelled.

I went to bed that night, as usual, alone. My four bedroom house now resembled a tomb, a relic of a life I no longer had. The two bedrooms occupied by my sons were now just storage for the things they decided not to take to college. The bedrooms were only occupied by them on major holidays and the occasional trip home during the summer. I parked myself on the right side of the bed, the same side I'd slept on for twenty years. Jonathan always slept on the left side, but now it was just the cold side of the bed. Old habits die hard.

I developed a night time ritual before going to sleep. I thought about Jonathan and the good times we shared together. Even though the last two years of our marriage were difficult, we did love each other and did have two amazing kids. We were high school sweethearts and were married for twenty years when lung cancer took my husband. It was ironic, since Jonathan didn't smoke. But those last two years, after the diagnosis, were the two worst years of my life. I won't go into the gory details, but suffice it to say it's something I wouldn't wish upon anyone.

Then I went to that secret place, that secret place that I've never shared with anyone. No one knew that about three years before Jonathan was diagnosed with terminal cancer we had essentially stopped having sex. It wasn't his choice. He loved having sex with me, and if he had had his way, we would have had sex at least once a day rather than the usual once a week. But I developed an ambivalence that evolved into an outright distaste for sex with Jonathan. It wasn't his fault. He was a considerate and I guess good lover. But he was a man. And my undisclosed longings were for a woman.

It was a difficult admission for me to make to myself. I knew that I had never relished sex, but I thought it was just me. But over the years I found myself with wandering eyes, whether it was in the locker room after a workout at the local club or scanning the well dressed women at a party and imagining what lay underneath. I started really noticing other woman, the shapes of their bodies, the curves of their breasts, and their eyes, always their eyes. I found a woman's eyes to be so seductive. For me the phrase "bedroom eyes" wasn't just a saying, it was a religion. I just couldn't resist a woman who had that sparkle - that "come hither" look - that exuded a raw, passionate sexuality.

As my interest in woman increased I started fantasizing about making love with a woman. In the beginning my fantasies revolved around oral sex. Jonathan was a considerate lover but mostly interested in missionary position intercourse without a whole lot of foreplay. He almost never went down on me, and when he did I felt like he was doing it only to please me. I imagined how it would be to have a woman pleasure me with her tongue, looking at me during this most intimate of moments, making it the main course instead of an appetizer, teasing me and inciting me to earth shaking orgasms. In time, my fantasies became more elaborate, sometimes revolving around anilingus, something Jonathan never did, and even milder forms of BDSM such as spanking and orgasm denial, areas that Jonathan and I never even discussed.

Before going to sleep that night I grabbed my iPad and my favorite vibrator. I was addicted to lesbian romance stories. I was just finishing the "Grounded in Toronto" series on Literotica and was empathizing with Camille, the woman who by serendipity discovered she was a lesbian and fell in love with what sounded to me like the ideal woman - a self-assured novelist whose outsized personality was a natural attractant to other women. As I was finishing the story I had a gut wrenching orgasm, and then promptly fell asleep with my vibrator in my hand and my iPad perched on my tummy.

Thank goodness no one else was living with me. I woke up the next morning with the lights on, my vibrator still in my hand and my iPad lying askew on the floor. My phone started buzzing. I was sure it was Mark. It was.

"Good morning sunshine. Ready to go shopping?" He sounded way too chipper for the morning.

"I just got up. Don't you have to go to work or something?" I said in a gravelly voice.

"It's Saturday, Beth."

Asshole. He was always right. "Give me an hour. I have to take a shower and get my morning coffee. Did you want to see me without my shower and my coffee?"

"No thanks. You know I don't like horror movies."

"Ha ha. Mark, why do you always have to be right? And how can you be so chipper at 8 a.m.?"

"I'm brilliant, and it's my naturally sunny disposition." He was even right about that. Mark was first in the class in high school and then went on to Yale, getting a degree in philosophy. God knows how he figured out how to leverage that degree in a C-suite job with a fast growing tech company.

"Pick you up at 9?"

"Sure. You know you've beat me into submission on this reunion thing."

"You'll have the time of your life. I guarantee it."

"Yeah right. The last person to give me a guarantee was the guy who repaved my driveway. And you know how that turned out."

There was a pause. "This will be different. Beth, you know me."

I decided to quit whining. I had lost. I was going. "I do know you and love you. I'll stop my complaining."

"That's my girl."

Mark arrived promptly at 9. He pulled up in a late model Ferrari. That man had style. If he wasn't gay I would have married him instead of Jonathan. He was Asian-American, of course impeccably dressed, maybe a bit too preppy for me with the Topsiders and a cashmere sweater over his shoulders, with nary a black hair out of place.

We kissed. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Get in. It's going to be a surprise."

Mark lowered the top on his car and handed me a baseball cap with his company's logo on it. I put my hair into a ponytail and threaded it through the hole in the back of the cap. I admired the tan hand stitched leather seat as I scooted my bottom on it. I took off my heels and sunk my feet into the plush carpeting of the floor mats that bore the Ferrari logo. I inhaled deeply. It still had a new car smell.

"Put on your sunglasses and off we go," Mark instructed me. I fumbled through my purse for my sunglass case and donned my prescription sunglasses. Mark fired up the car, and the throaty purr of the engine told me that all was right with the world.

Chapter Two

All was right with the world. The traffic was light and Mark's car gracefully negotiated through the slower cars. When we hit the Bay Bridge I knew we were going to Union Square, the home of power shopping. That excited me. I didn't often get to the City, and shopping around Union Square was always a treat. I never got tired of the view from the upper deck of the Bay Bridge - the Ferry building, the skyscrapers nestled by the water, and Coit Tower. We pulled up to the valet at Neiman Marcus. The valet's face, a kid who looked like he just got his driver's license, lit up at the sight of Mark's red Ferrari. Mark tossed him the keys.

"Kid, I've seen 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off,' so be kind to my car."

The kid nodded. "Yes sir. I'll try not to go airborne." Even the kid had a sense of humor.

We made the rounds; Neiman Marcus, Nordstrom, Macy's and finally Saks Fifth Avenue. It was exhausting. But at Saks we both thought we had found "the dress." It was a black off the shoulder dress with a plunging neckline that was partially covered with a sheer material. We thought it would look great against my blonde hair. It was a size 8. It was tight. I could barely get the zipper up. I tried the 10, but was practically swimming in it. The saleswoman was tactful in suggesting some "help" with the sizing of the garment.

"Why don't we pick out your undergarments first and then you can try the dress on again?"

We went over to the lingerie department. The saleswoman picked out a black lacey mid-thigh bodysuit. I had never purchased a shaping garment so this promised to be an adventure.

"Mark, I need your help."

Mark pointed at himself and mouthed the word "me?"

"Yes, you. It was your idea to go shopping."

Mark accompanied me to the dressing room where I stripped down. I took the bodysuit out of the box and tried to put it on. It was a scene befitting a comedy. Mark and I struggled with the bodysuit, tugging it every which direction until finally it was on. I felt as if a snake swallowed me whole. Every part of my body, except my boobs, were pressed in tightly like a canned ham. Then I slipped on the dress. The zipper went up effortlessly. I twirled in front of the mirror. Mark applauded.

"You look spectacular." I did. Better living through technology.

I picked out a new 34C bra and matching panties and it was off to shop for shoes. I was already lighter $1,000 from the dress and the undergarments and was wondering what kind of damage I'd do at the shoe store. We went back to Nordstrom and tried on umpteen pairs of shoes. Unfortunately the ones that looked the best were the Jimmy Choo classic pumps with four inch stiletto heels. The material was actually a multi-color glitter fabric but at a distance it looked black. They were $700. I started to balk at the price.

"These shoes look fantastic," commented Mark. He knew me well, and knew that I would balk at the price. "They're my reunion present to you."

"You shouldn't."

Mark waved the receipt. "I already did."

Well, if Mark could afford a Ferrari I'm sure this was pocket change. I gratefully accepted the gift and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably live in a cave." He was right about that too.

We pulled together all of my purchases and hoofed it back to Neiman Marcus to pick up Mark's car. On the way there Mark casually asked me "Are you seeing anyone?"

I wasn't sure how to reply. Should I tell him everything? He was my best friend. It was two years since Jonathan passed. Mark came out in high school. It was time for me to do the same.

"Mark, let's talk in the car. I have a lot to tell you."

Mark smiled. "I know." I'm sure he did.

Chapter Three

We got into the car. Mark left the top up so we could have a serious conversation. I jumped in with both feet.

"I think I'm gay." It was the first time I uttered those words.

Mark took his eyes off the road for just a second and gave me a broad understanding smile. "I've known for years."

It was my turn to be surprised. "What?"

"Beth, haven't you heard of gaydar? Mine went off in high school when I was with you. I wasn't sure then, but over the years I've become sure."

"How?"

"I can't put my finger on it exactly. I know you're a passionate person and I didn't get that passion when you were with Jonathan, particularly in the years right before he was diagnosed. And remember Amelia, the hottie that was married to Rob? There was a Christmas party a few years back where you couldn't take your eyes off of her."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Yes."

"I guess I'm busted. I'm not sure how this happened. I guess it's just the way I'm wired."

"You have to convince me? I came out in high school and you know what kind of shit I went through."

"I do, and maybe that's the reason I haven't been able to access my true feelings. I wanted to be accepted. I didn't want to be ostracized like you." As soon as I said it I thought "Shit, that didn't come out right."

Mark let the faux pas slide by without comment and nodded his head. "I wanted to be accepted too. But not at the expense of my sexual identity."

Ouch. That hit home. "I realize that now."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing for now. I need to get comfortable in my own skin. I have to figure out a way to tell the boys. And my parents."

My parents weighed heavily on my mind. When I was in high school they were horrified to learn that Mark was gay. My dad wasn't overly religious but had some deep seated prejudice that I didn't understand. My parents forbade me from having Mark in our house, an offense I've never forgiven them for to this day. They were now in their late 70's so I wasn't expecting a great deal of understanding for my real sexual orientation.

Mark pulled me out of my thoughts. "I'm sure you'll figure that out. Beth, I'm so happy for you. You've got so much of your life in front of you. I hope you find the woman of your dreams."

The next few weeks flew by and then it was time to go to the reunion. Mark picked me up at my house and away we went to SFO. We changed planes in Denver and touched down in Toledo late that night. We arrived at the hotel close to midnight and hit the sack almost immediately.

The next morning was exciting. I went to breakfast in the hotel's dining room and ran into a half dozen classmates. It was great seeing everyone, most not since high school. Some l recognized immediately. Some had changed so much I had no idea who they were until they introduced themselves. Mark joined me. Most of the people recognized Mark (since he was the smartest guy in the class and one of only a handful of Asians in the school) and then said hello to me. Fortunately many of the people I met commented that I hadn't changed a whole lot since high school, which was a big confidence booster for me.

There was one person I was keeping my eye out for. It was Sharon Campbell. She was my best friend in high school. She was maid of honor at my wedding. She moved to New York to pursue a career in fashion design and then we lost touch. I wasn't even sure if I would recognize her. But no sight of her during breakfast.

At our buffet lunch I decided to delink from Mark and mix with some folks that I didn't know. I sat at a round table for eight as the third person, and the table quickly filled. A woman I didn't recognize sat next to me. She was a striking redhead with emerald green eyes and a full figure. To my surprise she introduced herself as Tanya Yost. In school, Tanya was a mousey looking girl who was rather quiet and often sat in the back of the class by herself. Now she appeared to be a self-confident woman, and attractive to boot. I had heard she was married to Jason Moore, who was a high school classmate.

"Tanya ... you look gorgeous."

"Why thank you. I guess you can call me a late bloomer. It wasn't until I graduated from high school that I had a bit of a growth spurt."

Growth spurt was an understatement. Her voluptuous breasts looked real to me in her low cut dress. She must have grown 4 inches and went from a B cup to a D cup. Lucky girl. My heart started hammering in my chest. Was she the one?

"Forgive my manners, Beth I'd like you to meet my wife Patricia." Patricia was sitting next to Tanya and waved her hand. Just my luck. I met an attractive woman who was a lesbian and she was married.

"Hello Patricia. How long have been married to Tanya?"

"Just over two years."

Tanya jumped in. "Beth, I'm sure you heard I was married to Jason Moore. We were divorced about five years ago when I told him I was gay. I met Patricia in my yoga class about three years ago. Hey, I'm so sorry to hear about your husband Jonathan passing away. That must have been quite a shock."

"It was. I'm still trying to get past it."

"Are you dating anyone?"

It was time to decide how I was going to play this. Was I going to fib and keep living the lie or show my cards? I decided there really wasn't a more sympathetic audience than the one in front of me. I glanced out of the side of my eye and it looked like everyone at the table was awaiting my answer.

"Not yet, but it looks like I have the same story as you."

Tanya was a bit puzzled by my answer given the expression on her face.