The Waitress

She had no idea when the pretty little waitress first started working at the restaurant. It was indeed possible she'd been there for months but she only noticed her when her lover came out with an admiring comment after she'd served them wine.

"Nice arse," she murmured.

Carole fixed Katherine with a steady smile as she leaned on the table.

"I hadn't noticed."

"You didn't?" Katherine raised an elegantly sculptured eyebrow, "you're slipping in your old age, it's an arse custom built for cream," she smiled as Carole winced, "ouch, now that got your motor started."

She wasn't wrong there. Katherine was an English teacher working at the university and her English accent still entranced her. She'd come to San Diego seeking the sun in 1992 and four years down the track was well ensconced in the local gay community. Since the passion of that first night however the ardour had cooled and she found herself mentally recording Katherine's appointments and analysing them at various times of the day. How long did she spend with students and in meetings? Was she really alone on certain nights or did she have visitors?

It was only when they were leaving an hour or so later that Carole finally had the chance to glance at her buttocks and privately admit they were perfectly rounded and yes, perhaps cream would look nice on them.

That was three months ago and for the last eight weeks she'd been dining alone here after Katherine broke up with her with the classic line.

"I'm sorry, it's not you it's me."

Katherine was just one in a long line of failed relationships and in retrospect she'd been a mere stopgap on the way to someone else. Every time she came to this restaurant she was reminded of her but life could become very dull indeed if one stayed away from certain places because of old memories.

The pretty little waitress still held her attention and over the last two months she'd worked out her shifts and it was not as if she was stalking the woman, she needed some small matter with which to occupy her mind while she processed the death of this latest relationship. By now she knew her name, Marina, she was Hispanic but spoke with a local accent and she was exceedingly polite in a way that suggested she actually liked her job.

"Would you like to order your wine?"

"So, what do you recommend?" Carole pulled her attention from the black suit and white shirt, conscious that she'd been staring.

"The house special is," Marina stopped as Carole held up her hand.

"I don't want to know the house special, I want to know what you recommend."

"Zinfandel, it's a red wine."

"Zinfandel," she repeated, "sounds foreign."

"It's from the Napa Estate, Storybook Mountain."

"Storybook Mountain," she smiled crookedly, "how appropriate is that?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm a book editor," she replied, "sorry, bad joke."

"Oh," she smiled, "I'm doing my arts degree."

"I see," she pursed her lips as she scanned the menu, "what's your major?"

"Fine Arts," she teased a lock of hair behind her ear, "I'd like to work in advertising."

"Don't," Carole winced, "believe me, it looks glamorous but the hours suck and in the end you're just another artist with a pen," she leaned back, "but whatever rocks your boat, I think I'll have the Zinfandel."

"Of course," Marina noted it on a pad, "thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome," she smiled.

Marina returned the smile as she retreated to fetch her order and Carole felt a twinge of guilt. She made a half hearted attempt at salvaging the situation when Marina returned with the bottle and proceeded to open it.

"So, you've got a portfolio?"

"I surely do," she popped the cork, "I've been drawing for years."

"Maybe I could take a look sometime," she shook her head as Marina held out the cork, "if you're happy with me looking."

"Okay," she started pouring the wine, "say when."

"Um," she looked down at the glass as she thought quickly, "I'm busy the rest of the week but how about early next week?"

"Monday or Tuesday? I have to work Wednesday through to Saturday nights."

"Tuesday," Carole took a notepad from her purse, "here, write down your details and I'll call at the end of the week to tee up a time."

Her handwriting was exquisite and she caught the scent of expensive perfume. Had she been wearing that a few minutes ago? She squinted at the address and phone number.

"I know where that is, you're not far from me."

"Thanks for offering."

"My pleasure," she sipped the wine, "all right, we'll set up a date."

Marina murmured her thanks but the subject wasn't discussed that night, although she did leave a generous tip and that earned her a smile as she farewelled her.

Nevertheless, the invitation left her a little uneasy. Marina looked to be at least ten to fifteen years her junior and that could be either good or bad depending on your perspective.

"Older women are definitely more attractive to younger women," one of her friends commented as they strolled along the beach.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she looked over at Helena. She was currently hooked up with a twenty eight year old woman, although Helena didn't look forty.

"On the other hand if I play devil's advocate I'd question why you're even interested in her, she's even younger than Katherine. You've got to tread carefully or you'll wind up with one of those bi straight curious types who dumps you for the first alpha male whenever it suits her."

"Well we're not there yet," she stared out at the ocean, "God, I don't even know which way she swings."

"But you'd like her to swing your way."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she lowered her hand, "I'm just showing a little interest in a younger woman. All I know is she's a college student, she works as a waitress, she's hotter than hell and she's Hispanic."

"Sounds like the perfect woman but tread carefully."

It was advice that was repeated that night by two other friends Mandy and Tracey at a party to celebrate three years together.

"You gotta play it safe," Tracey told her as they sat drinking by the pool, "you're prepping for this visit like a midterm. She's asked you to come and look at her portfolio, not her pussy and if it comes to that then more power to you."

"I just wanna know if she's straight, gay, bi or curious."

"Well your curiosity is about to be rewarded one way or another," she replied.

Curiosity seemed an appropriate word to describe her frame of mind that Tuesday afternoon when she pulled up outside the apartments on Vision Drive, a short drive from the university. Marina's apartment was closest to the street and she was sitting on the second floor balcony with an easel. At first she thought Marina hadn't seen her. She was engrossed in painting but then she raised her sunglasses and held out a hand in welcome.

"Hey," she called out, "I thought you'd stood me up."

"I got caught up with paperwork at the office," she replied.

"Come on up," she gestured, "door's around the side."

Her apartment was one of several overlooking a central driveway and it looked much the same as the others from the outside, the cream coloured walls and balconies must have been designed by the same architect. But the interior did cause her to take a step back and evaluate. The first thing she saw was a large poster of Che Guevera that had been staple student decoration for over twenty years. Her first serious girlfriend on campus had been a Che groupie. How many times had they made out with Che looking on?

The second thing she noticed was a fairly lifelike painting of former First Lady Jackie Kennedy wearing that infamous pink suit the day her husband was gunned down. There was no mistaking the man standing beside her taking the oath of office on Air Force One and Marina's eyes shifted as Carole stared at it.

"That was one of my first paintings, it's called A Successful Coup."

"It's very good," she stepped over for a closer look, "almost like a photograph."

"Until you get up close," Marina joined her, "I messed up down there," she pointed.

"You're a typical artist," Carole chuckled, "always the first to criticise and the last to accept praise, this should be in a gallery."

"Thank you."

"So I take it you're a Democrat?"

"No, just a humanist," she tugged at her ponytail, "when you go to a Catholic school, you go one of two ways. There's no prizes for guessing which way I went," she smiled.

"I'm a Missouri girl," she replied, "although I've dated a few Catholic women."

"Okay," Marina smiled at her, "so, you want to see my portfolio?"

"Lead the way."

Her portfolio was quite impressive and Carole soon identified a common theme in the vast majority of her pictures.

"You like women," she stared at a picture of a woman leaning against a wall.

"I like the female form, yes," she settled back in her chair, "and I wanted to focus on the way women are portrayed in the media."

"Boy that's a loaded question," she smiled.

"It is," she replied and looked at her, "I'm very much aware of the glass ceiling."

"We all are but rather than rail against it, why not accept the obvious?"

"I do, the ceiling is glass not steel."

It was one of several gems she dropped that afternoon, little sayings or reworked proverbs that hinted of a greater intelligence behind the youthful good looks. Her parents were both born in El Salvador but managed to escape over the border into Honduras where Marina was born in 1974 and three years later they moved to the United States after her father's brother sponsored a visa.

"My parents moved to Los Angeles three years ago but now they're divorced."

"And you stayed here," Carole stated the obvious.

"I was raised here," she shrugged, "I like it here. Don't get me wrong there are plenty of great opportunities there but it's lonely in L.A."

The conversation could have gone on much longer if Marina hadn't gotten a call asking if she could cover for a co worker who'd just called in sick. She agreed and looked almost apologetic as she sat down again.

"I'm really sorry about all this, I feel like I could tell you everything," she looked at her portfolio, "well almost everything," she smiled.

"Maybe some other time?" Carole shifted in her seat.

"Sure, why not," she rose and then held out her hands as Carole made to get up, "you don't have to go yet, the shift doesn't start for another hour but I have to get ready."

The signs were all there she mused and yet she hadn't actually come out and said anything about her sexual orientation and Carole found herself going over the conversations of the last couple of hours, trying to find something that could be construed as vaguely lesbian oriented. Eventually she reverted to Occam's Razor. The woman was open minded and not homophobic.

Thus, Marina's proposal some twenty minutes later took her completely by surprise.

"I was thinking about you in the shower," she smiled, "I need a model for my next assignment and you would be perfect."

"A model," Carole looked down at her beige-coloured blouse and brown skirt, "I'm not exactly model material."

"I disagree," Marina ran a hand through her hair, "you've got a youthful figure, an attractive face and you're in your thirties. I need to do a nude drawing but all my girlfriends have refused so I'm at a loss right now and I can't afford to hire a professional model."

"You want me nude?"

"Well kind of," she stopped brushing and put the brush between her legs, "your genitals would be covered, the only bits to be seen would be your breasts but I can change the face slightly if it bothers you."

Carole stared out the window and when she looked back Marina was blushing.

"Sorry, maybe not."

Carole had every intention of saying no but who could say no to that face?

"So you'll do it?"

"Yeah," she replied, "with reservations but it's not like I'm a public figure, and this wouldn't be on display in some gallery?"

"No, nothing like that it's an assignment. My lecturer is one of those mad feminists and she's always going on about how women are objectified, I wanted to do something to show women can be portrayed in a sexual manner without being objectified."

"Sounds weird."

"I'm an artist, we're always weird."

The sitting was arranged for the following Monday night, seven days away and in that time she was able to discuss it with her friends who seemed either anxious or encouraging depending on their outlook. Mandy even offered to come along as a friend but she rejected that idea with a polite, "thanks but I'm good with this."

Nevertheless, she felt anxious about it as she found herself in the same living room preparing to disrobe while Marina busied herself in the kitchen with wine, cheese and crackers. She'd come from work, dressed in a pink silk blouse and brown skirt, and that morning she'd had her hair done, vanity was everything.

"So you want me in my birthday suit?"

"Right down to your pants," Marina poked her head around the door, "you can always pull out but I'll be very disappointed, I might even cry."

"You might still be crying," she sighed as she unbuttoned her blouse.

Marina came through some five minutes later to find her sitting on the couch wearing just her pants and with her hands between her legs.

"Looking good," Marina placed the tray on the table and nodded at a white shirt draped over the arm of the couch, "put that on but leave it unbuttoned."

"Oh," she squinted at it recognising it as being one of Marina's work shirts, "okay."

The shirt was a size too small but thankfully she didn't have to button it and Marina arranged her so that she was stretched out on the couch with easy access to the wine and food.

"You look perfect," Marina pressed a button on the Hi-Fi system, "I hope you like Enya."

"I love Enya," she smiled.

"But would you fuck her?"

"Oh if only," she blushed.

Marina smiled at that as she sat down with her drawing pad.

"I always talk to my models while I draw them," she explained, "it helps to relax them."

"Talk away," she sipped her wine, "you don't get distracted if I move my hand?"

"Not at all," she replied, "so, you're from Missouri, were you born there?"

"Yeah, Boonville, well not exactly Boonville but my folks lived there for the first ten years of my life, then we moved to Columbia."

"What prompted the move?"

"My parents got divorced."

"Yeah I've been there, it sucks."

"I stayed with mom, but I used to go back to Boonville for the summer break, it was the only time mom could get a break herself. She used to call it her me time."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"One brother, he lives in Canada."

"He didn't move to Columbia with you and your mom?"

"No," Carole frowned, "he was seventeen at the time and decided to stay with dad but after a year they had a big fight and he moved to Chicago, after that he went to Canada and I rarely see him, not even at Thanksgiving."

"It must have been tough on you then," Marina mused.

Carole didn't reply for a moment and Marina smiled.

"If it's bothering you just say so."

"It's not but I'm curious, why did your parents divorce?"

"Dad had an affair and mom found out when she walked in on them in the bedroom."

"Ouch."

"That's what he said after she hit him with a marble ashtray," she touched the side of her head.

"Were you there when it happened?"

"Yeah, I went up for the weekend but I hadn't told mom until the last minute, which is how he came to be caught in bed with his lover. She left work to go pick me up and took me back home but stopped off to pick up my sister, who should have been at work too but they cancelled her shift. Dad wasn't expecting company for hours and then mom and two of his daughters turned up at the same time to find him lying on top of some leggy blonde."

"Wow, my parents' divorce seems pretty civilised in comparison. They just woke up one morning and decided that they'd fallen out of love, it was actually quite pleasant. Dad shed a couple of tears, mom was crying but they both sat us down and explained that while dad and mom loved us they couldn't say they loved each other."

"How did that affect you?"

"Badly at first but I got used to it in the end. I blamed myself at first, then mom, and then dad but by the time you reach your senior year you've either resolved it or turned rebellious. I was determined to be the best daughter to both of them."

"Did it put you off love?"

"Huh?" Carole stared at her.

"I mean having your parents suddenly fall out of love must be traumatic."

"I don't know," she looked past her, "maybe, I certainly don't believe in the happy ever after."

"So who was your first love?"

"Bobby Brennan in my freshman year at Columbia State. I was a late starter."

"So you weren't always a lesbian?"

"Oh I definitely felt attracted to women but I suppose I resisted the urge, Bobby was my first attempt at being what I called normal and don't get me wrong, he was nice. I cried when it ended but then Celine came along and one thing led to another."

"How was it with Celine?" Marina looked up suddenly.

"It was," she closed her eyes, "so, so different. I felt like there was nothing to prove, I didn't have to worry about always looking right. Celine was butch but not overtly butch, I learned a lot from her about life in general, but that ended."

"How did it end?"

"She graduated and moved to Chicago. I was going to move there when I graduated but a few months afterwards she called to tell me she'd found someone else," she waved her arm, "and that was the start of my love life."

She giggled and shifted slightly.

"Don't move too much," Marina frowned, "I'll lose concentration."

"Sorry," she contemplated her for a moment, "so, what about your skeletons? You went to a Catholic school, there's bound to be some there."

"Oh I've got a few," she smiled, "it was an all girl school."

"Go on," Carole sipped her wine.

"It was fairly strict," she frowned, "we were always being lectured about sex and that kind of thing went on between the girls but I was too busy trying to get good grades. By the time I started to experiment all the good girls were taken but there was one time I got hot and heavy with a girl in my senior year."

"And?"

"And nothing," she sighed, "we were both kind of shy and just trying out I guess, eventually she got herself a boyfriend and I moved on but I don't regret Jacinta, but if my mom ever found out she'd have me saying hail Mary for the rest of my life."

"Well it's our secret then," she smiled.

"Thanks, I think," she contemplated her for a moment, "I must admit I've thought about it just recently."

"What going out with a woman or Jacinta?"

"Both," she replied, "Jacinta broke up with her fiancé and we met up for a few drinks one night, she actually mentioned our brief affair but kind of laughed it off. A week later you turned up at the restaurant with your partner and I couldn't take my eyes off the two of you, Jacinta kind of made out like it was a stupid girlish thing but you two were seriously in love or so I thought. It was the first time I actually realised that two women could be in love with each other for real, I mean I know that sounds stupid and it probably is but I'd never consciously thought about it before."

"Oh," she closed her eyes, "that was Katherine, my ex and I think I was more in love with her but she was always on the lookout," she contemplated telling her more but decided against it as she opened her eyes and continued.

"But it's not stupid, even my parents thought I'd grow out of it someday. So, do you find women more attractive than men?"

"I do but I don't know why," she replied, "I find men attractive but I can control them better, with a woman there's definitely more mystery and I find I'm both attracted and frightened, which is actually more of a turn on."