Part V

My second morning with Cynthia goes much smoother. I wake to gentle kisses and I don't dump her on the floor. I hope that kissing will lead to more interesting pursuits, but after a few minutes, she says I gotta go to work. I don't wanna go, but she's right, I gotta. And she does too. But she says she'll call when she's done.

I reluctantly go home and change, then go into work. I work my ass off, trying to catch up. It would work better if I could keep from thinking about kissing Cynthia. I wonder if she's my girlfriend. I mean, we said the 'l' word. Surely that means something, right? How the hell do people figure it out? Does someone have to ask the other person? Are there certain rituals you gotta do? Or are you just automatically girlfriends after so long? Like, common law girlfriends? I hate that I don't know these things that everyone else knows. And that I have no one to ask. My life sucks. And I have to tell Cynthia about it. If she's my girlfriend now, she won't be after that. Have I mentioned my life sucks?

I manage to get caught up by 6pm. Cynthia hasn't called. I gather up my stuff and go home. And sit next to the phone. Yeah, I'm pathetic, get over it. She finally calls around eight. She sounds so tired. But she'll come straight over; my place is closer.

I'm a little nervous about having her come over here. She hasn't been here since our first night together. It's just a little crappy bachelor pad. But I have a nice couch and bed and a TV. She'll be comfortable while we cuddle. At least, I assume she's gonna wanna cuddle. I hope she does. I wanna hold her again. Maybe steal a kiss or two. She sounds too tired to attempt anything more. It's a work night, anyway. Please don't remind me that that's never stopped me before. New leaf? Turning over? Ring any bells? Good.

There's a knock on the door. "That was fast," I mutter to myself as I get up to answer. It's indeed her. She looks as tired as she sounded on the phone. She's carrying a briefcase. I take it from her and set it beside the door and pull her into my arms and into the apartment. I shut the door and just stand holding her for a minute. She collapses into my arms.

"Today just sucked," she mutters.

"I'm sorry, baby." I suddenly think of something. "Have you eaten?"

"No, I had to skip lunch for a damned meeting and just finished. Haven't had time."

"Poor baby. Here... come sit down... take off your shoes... prop your feet up," I guide her to the couch and pull over an ottoman. "Would you like a drink while I'm cooking dinner?"

"You don't have to cook... I can take us out."

"Nonsense. It'll be much quicker to just cook. Now, what would you like to drink?"

She looks stunned, but says, "do you have any white wine?"

I nod. "I'll be right back." I hand her the remote. "If you want to watch TV, go ahead."

I go get her wine. I open a fresh bottle and pour her a glass. Okay, yes, it's a jelly glass. It's a perfectly valid drinking vessel choice. At least I didn't give her a mayonnaise jar. And I remembered to stock up on her favorite wine. I would have gotten around to buying actual wineglasses. I bring it to her and apologize for the lack of a proper glass, but of course she says it's okay.

Leaving her happily sipping wine and watching a Law and Order: Criminal Intent episode, I investigate my fridge and cabinets to see what I have that's quick, but filling. I have a woman to take care of. "Ah, perfect!" I whisper. "Do you like spaghetti, baby?" I call into the living room. Well, actually, it's my normal tone of voice; the place isn't that big.

"I love it!"

"Okay, great, I'll fix that then."

I look to see if I still have hamburger defrosted or if I'd cooked it. I had. But I have a plate of chicken left. "Ghetto alfredo!" I exclaim happily. While the water is heating up, I quickly debone and dice several pieces of chicken and set them aside. The water is boiling, so I break up some spaghetti and put it in the water. While it's cooking, I nuke the chicken a bit to warm it and find a jar of cheese sauce. I drain the pasta and mix everything together. To show I'm not a total bachelor, I pull down a real bowl and spoon some into it and set it on the table instead of just leaving the pot on the stove.

I set a couple places at the small kitchen table and go to collect my love. "It's done, baby. Would you like me to bring you a plate or would you like to sit at the table?"

"Oh, I can come to the table," she says hastily, getting up.

"Okay baby." I take her hand to help her up and escort her to the table. I know it's only 10 feet, but manners never hurt anyone. Especially a bachelor who wants to stop being one. And I'm pretending I didn't say that, thank you.

We just sit and eat quietly other than her exclaiming over how delicious it is. It's very domestic. And I *like* it. I want to look across my table at her every evening for the rest of my life. Sigh. There goes my pretending. I didn't even make it a paragraph. Now, the hard part is how to make that happen.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I insist." And she stands firmly in front of the sink.

I sigh and take my place on the couch. She won't let me do the dishes... insists that since I cooked, it's her job to clean up. I take the lesson in domesticity and sit down with the paper. It's what men on TV always do when their wives are doing dishes. Not having any lesbian role models, I assume it's an appropriate thing to do. Sigh. I just said 'appropriate'. I *hate* that word.

I'm not sure I've ever been 'appropriate' before. Except to piss people off. Which I'm pretty sure isn't appropriate, so I don't think it counts. I guess I have to start thinking about these things 'cause I'm pretty sure you have to be when you have a steady girl. I mean, some things are okay and some aren't. About all I'm sure of is that I can't date anyone else -- not that I want to anyway -- and I gotta get her presents and think about her a lot. I frown. I haven't gotten her any presents. I gotta buy her some flowers. And fancy chocolate. Girls like fancy chocolate. Don't they?

"What are you frowning about, sweetheart?"

I jump. She chuckles and plops down into my lap. I forget I've been asked a question. Hey, it's not *my* fault she smells so damn good. Or feels so damn good.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I'm not trying to be evasive; I really can't think of anything wrong. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. What could be wrong?

"You were frowning awfully hard for 'nothing'."

"Oh. Um. I was thinking. About us."

"And that makes you frown?" She tenses in my arms.

"No… what makes me frown is that I've never had… whatever we are… before. Um, I don't know how to act or what to do or anything. I don't even know what we *are*."

Her face softens. "Just be yourself. We can be whatever you want."

"That's the problem… I don't know who 'me' *is*," I exclaim in frustration. Then the second part of her sentence registers. "Um… so you'll be my girlfriend?" I blush and feel about 12.

Mercifully, she just says yes and kisses me. I really like how she makes me feel better.

XXXXXXXXX

Have I mentioned I love kissing her? Her lips are so smooth and soft. She always seems to know just how I want to be kissed and when I want to stop and breathe. She chooses those moments to nibble on a convenient earlobe or lavish my neck and jaw with licks and little nips. I happily return the favor. I love the taste of her skin and the little gasps she makes when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. I can't believe she agreed to be my girl. I don't know what I did right to get her, but I hope I keep doing it.

We kiss for what must be an hour or two. One of those late night shows is coming on when she decides it's bedtime. Separately.

I protest, saying I *do* have a perfectly good bed with clean sheets and everything and she's too tired to drive.

She insists on leaving.

I protest again, but she says goodnight and leaves.

I cry for I don't know how long. I haven't cried that hard since I was a child. I'm not quite sure *why* I'm crying, but it hurts, so I cry. Sometimes that's enough.

An hour later - I must have fallen asleep - there is a knocking on the door. It's her smiling sheepishly.

I lead her back to my room and she curls up against me and falls straight to sleep.

I fall asleep seconds later, smiling happily.






VI






I wake slowly, languishing in the warm heaviness of Cynthia laying half on top of me. Not that she's heavy -- she's no more than a minute, really. I love how she feels on me. Her head fits neatly under my chin, her hand caps my breast as if it were made to be there, and my hand just as perfectly covers the curve of her hip. It's so intimate, but not really sexual. I love waking like this. I could easily do it every morning for the next thirty or forty years. I'm gonna have to try to talk to her about this sleeping together thing. I'm no good at sensitive chats, but I'm gonna have to try. I don't wanna cry anymore.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do anything wrong." Ugh, my carefully prepared speech disappears when her eyes open and I blurt out the stupid apology instead.

"I didn't either. But, Syd, this thing is moving awfully fast."

I swallow hard and blink. I don't wanna cry again. "Don't you wanna be with me?" I'm confused. And hurt. Damn feelings. I've done just fine without 'em.

"Of course I do… But there's steps. We're still at the 'dating' stage, not the 'sleeping together every night' stage."

I frown. "Can't we do both?"

The look she gives me makes it clear that's not how it works.

"This relationship stuff is hard," I grumble.

"Tell me about it," she sighs.

"Look, I know you have to go on lots of business trips and you work really late lots of nights. But can't we sleep together when you don't have to do either? You can have your day and evening to yourself. But I'd like to sleep beside you at night and have breakfast together. I don't have nightmares when I sleep with you."

She looks at me, a soft look in her eyes. "Do you have nightmares a lot?"

I nod. I do.

"About the stuff you said you can't talk about?"

I nod again, hoping she doesn't ask me to tell her about them.

"They're really bad?"

"I'm lucky to sleep three hours at a time."

Her face softens even more. "We can try it for awhile and see if it works. I have to leave on a business trip Monday. We can sleep together 'til then and see how it goes. How's that?"

"That's fair. Then you can see how you sleep without me again and decide which you like better."

She smiles. "I have to work 'til at least 11 tonight. How about I come here straight from there? I'll swing by my place and pack an overnight bag on my way in."

"That works great. I'll have a light supper ready when you get here. I'll bring a lunch over later this morning… Your secretary can bring it to you when you have a few minutes. You can't go all day without eating."

"You don't have to do that. I can order something from the deli down the street."

"You could, but I don't think you *will*. You have to take care of yourself. Even I remember to eat."

"Okay… If you must," she sighs and rolls her eyes. I think she's pleased though.

"I must," I insist.

"Okay. Unfortunately, I gotta go if I'm gonna pack a bag and have time to eat your lunch." She slips from my arms, kissing me quickly and walking into the bathroom.

That didn't go too badly. I grin happily as I listen to her shower. Time to cook some breakfast.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I could get used to this."

I jump. I hadn't heard the water turn off. I'm serving up a quick breakfast -- sausage, cheese and bacon omelets and hash brown patties. I love my tri taters. I think it's tri tater dance she's talking about though, judging from how she's biting her lip to stop the laugh that's dying to come out. I always do a little jig when I get to eat my favorite breakfast food. Well when no one can see I do.

I blush. "You should see what I do for taters fried in bacon grease. Which I will be having for supper tonight." I smile happily just thinking about it. I'll be sleeping with Cynthia tonight and tomorrow night and the night after that and maybe even longer. It's a good day to treat myself to all my favorite foods.

"I'm going to gain fifty pounds and die of heart disease if you keep feeding me like this," she huffs, but her eyes are twinkling.

"You're too thin and a little grease never killed anyone."

"I'll be sure to tell my doctor that when he bitches about my cholesterol."

"He'll be thrilled you have a gorgeous girlfriend that makes you eat."

"You've been drawn into the conspiracy already, I see. I didn't know you'd met."

"Wouldn't know; don't know his name. But I know you don't take care of yourself… You corporate types never do. It's always go, go, go 'til you're so worn down there's no go left or you die, whichever happens first." I shrug. "I've seen it happen too many times to count." I shrug again. "Now, come in and eat, darlin', I know you're in a hurry."

She does, giving me a kiss and a patient, understanding smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

I sing along with the radio as I fix Cynthia her lunch. I'd taken off work for a long lunch to fix it. I might as well -- in a few days I'll be desperate for something to do 'til Cynthia gets home. Especially if she decides we can't sleep together much anymore. I frown at the thought. I hope she at least will on weekends if she doesn't have to work or go on a business trip. That'd be okay. Well it'd be better than nothing. I shake my head. I'm making lunch for my girlfriend and I might have a chance to steal a kiss. Tonight she'd sleep in my arms after eating the supper I made for her. I could hold her close to me all night and maybe even kiss her some. That makes me grin.

I laugh. There'd be scores of people shocked as hell to see me now. Tough biker dyke transformed into domestic goddess. I pause. Maybe that was the problem. I hadn't been that dyke since our first night. Maybe she missed Stud. Syd was being awfully clingy and domestic. Cynthia seemed to like that until last night, this morning. I didn't want to be Stud again, totally, but maybe I could find a happy medium and let Stud out to play this weekend.

Satisfied with my plan, I go back to making my woman's lunch. Couldn't have her starve to death. That wouldn't be very butch either.

XXXXXXXXXX

"So… This is where you are all day," I say inanely as I look around Cynthia's office a little while later. I make a damn good living, but her office makes mine look like a hole in the wall.

"Yep, my home away from home." She gets up from her chair and wraps her arms around me.

I lean down and kiss her like I haven't seen her in a year. "You look so hot in a power suit, darlin', have I told you that lately?" I palm her ass to illustrate my compliment. Oh god… She's wearing a thong! I can feel the outline through her skirt.

I must've groaned out loud because she chuckles. "Be good, Syd, I have to go back to work. I have three hours to come up with the numbers to pull off a multimillion dollar deal. I'll see you tonight."

"Sorry, darlin', you're just too hot to ignore. See ya tonight at my place." I leave her with another soul-stealing kiss and a last longing grope of that thong.

Oh yeah, I still got it.

Continued in Part 7