I can't put it down. I can't seem to walk away. I know I should, everything in me is screaming that this is not going to get better. That, fundamentally, there is a lack of respect for my feelings, there is a lack of prioritizing me first.
But all I want is to be closer. I want to crawl inside you and sleep inside your chest so I can feel your heart beating. I want to crush you, I want to kiss you, I want you to want me, I want you to fuck me- honestly, passionately, brutally, bruising me. I want you to claim me and never let me go. I want your purple handprints on my body so I have some confirmation of your presence when I leave for work or you leave. I want to cleanse you with my body and my love so that the last person under you wasn't her. I want to claim you. I want to erase what you did.
But I can't. I'm on fire, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't tell if I'm crying or gasping because I feel your hand on my back as if it burns down to my bones and I want you but I don't because I'm picturing you and her and she's awful and I want you to shed your skin like a snake so I don't have to touch any part of you that she's touched. I want you to touch me and never stop; I want you to never touch me again.
And I'm hurt, so hurt, but you've always been my comfort. I want you to hold me and tell me this was just a nightmare and it wasn't real and you love me so much, how could you ever do that to me?
I can't cry. I can't scream and swear. It's like my emotions have been running high this whole time and now that you've told me the worst someone turned the dial back down. Is that because it can't get worse? Do I have no more anxiety because it's over? What I was dreading already happened?
Now the only thing amped up is desire. I don't get it, I don't understand it. But it's there. I feel like I hyper-sexual being right now when I should be a mopey awful mess. Is there a term for this? Is this normal?
Is everyone going to judge me for staying when I was packed up and ready to leave?
Showing posts with label fireworks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fireworks. Show all posts
Aug 25, 2016
Dec 19, 2012
Crushing/Lesbissues
Crushing is hard for everybody, but I think crushing is especially hard for lesbians. I see this on Sasha's site over at CCL all the time, where girls are constantly asking for advice on how they know if another girl likes them back. Girls are damn flirty creatures. Myself included. I love to flirt. I flirt with girls, I flirt with boys, I flirt with babies and bunnies and unicorns and Albus Dumbledore. Okay? I'm a flirt.
But when it comes to crushing on someone? It's so hard. I practically clam up. My physical and mental ability to flirt dies and leaves me alone muttering something unintelligible about tamales, and I've got nothing intelligent or witty. I understand that the only way to figure out if a girl is a lesbian/interested in you is just to ask, but I'm afraid ofthe asking the silence that follows.
You know the one I mean - the two hours of your day that used to be filled with talking to her, that are now empty. The endless minutes, the sparks of thought and conversation that you want to share with that one person who you know will get it - but wait, it's radio silence from her end. Because those words, "I like you," "I'm attracted to you," "I'm crushing on you," "my feelings for you extend beyond a platonic friendship," all seem to spell sudden death for my friendships with girls. And rather than push for a relationship, I'd rather at least have someone to talk to.
Not that it ends that way every time. If I have a pretty clear signal I'll go for it, but most of the time I can't be the person who says it first. Because I'll be honest: I'm afraid I'm going to be left alone, pining, with an outstretched hand and an empty text message inbox, and I know I'm not the only one. So when there's two of us who feel this way about each other, who the hell plucks up the courage to make the first move, or are we just tunnel-o-love boats that pass in the night?
Note: lesbissues (lez-bee-issues) is my new favorite term. Put that right at the top with mo' homo.
But when it comes to crushing on someone? It's so hard. I practically clam up. My physical and mental ability to flirt dies and leaves me alone muttering something unintelligible about tamales, and I've got nothing intelligent or witty. I understand that the only way to figure out if a girl is a lesbian/interested in you is just to ask, but I'm afraid of
You know the one I mean - the two hours of your day that used to be filled with talking to her, that are now empty. The endless minutes, the sparks of thought and conversation that you want to share with that one person who you know will get it - but wait, it's radio silence from her end. Because those words, "I like you," "I'm attracted to you," "I'm crushing on you," "my feelings for you extend beyond a platonic friendship," all seem to spell sudden death for my friendships with girls. And rather than push for a relationship, I'd rather at least have someone to talk to.
Not that it ends that way every time. If I have a pretty clear signal I'll go for it, but most of the time I can't be the person who says it first. Because I'll be honest: I'm afraid I'm going to be left alone, pining, with an outstretched hand and an empty text message inbox, and I know I'm not the only one. So when there's two of us who feel this way about each other, who the hell plucks up the courage to make the first move, or are we just tunnel-o-love boats that pass in the night?
Note: lesbissues (lez-bee-issues) is my new favorite term. Put that right at the top with mo' homo.
Dec 4, 2012
Heat
Heat- part of my first:girl series is up today at wordpress. I suggest you take the time to read the juicy story today or nab the password from me like it's going under restriction, because, um, it is.
Happy Reading! It's delicious.
http://tabbyqt.wordpress.com/2012/12/04/heat/
Excerpt:
She had a beer in her hand and her grin was a little too open. She smelled like smoke and I leaned my head against her leg to breathe it in. She must have been out on the patio, smoking and talking. Her fingers tangled in my long hair as she fingered the strands.
My buzz kicked in double time. She was more intoxicating than any alcohol in the world. She could make me forget my manners, my inhibitions, my own name. I let my fingers idly create patterns across her jeans. She was still wearing her jacket, I noticed. A heavy corduroy button up, far too hot for the sweltering room. I sat up to ask her about it and wavered. Maybe I’d had more to drink than I thought.
Her fingers left my hair and I tried not to pout. “Gwen,” I started, intending to ask about the jacket, but she looked at me. She looked me right in the eyes and I was pulled back to our moment under the stars. Her face was flushed, her eyes were shining, and there was some deep longing in the lines of her face, in the pigments of her freckles, that begged me to ask her. I couldn’t hear the noise of the party anymore. Couldn’t hear the talking or the glass bottles, could only hear her breathing and the rush of blood through my ears, like the waves of the ocean.
“Kiss me,” I breathed, and she swallowed tightly but didn’t look away. She let out a slow breath and tried to grin.
“You sure you want that?” She swirled her beer bottle. I moved even closer to her, her leg cradling my breast, her side pressed against my front, my shoulder. She had several inches on me this way, but I didn’t care. I wanted to reach out and touch her but my training with horses had me scared I’d spook her.
“I’m sure,” I nodded, our mouths only an inch apart. I was drowning in her gaze. She looked lost, bewildered, wanting, waiting, calculating- so many things. I rested my hand on her thigh and she finally brought her hand up to wrap around my throat, her thumb lifting my chin, and she kissed me.
There was something bubbling in my chest, a feeling that was so much like becoming whole. She fit exactly into all these locks and voids and jagged pieces inside me that I hadn’t realized were damaged and missing. My hand fisted onto the hem of her jacket and I pushed closer to her.
Her lips were soft and pliant against mine, sweet and gentle under the taste of beer and clove cigarettes. Her body was on fire everywhere that it touched mine, and I was burning against her. The brush of her denim jeans was rough through my shirt and I gripped her jacket tighter.
Someone called, laughed, there was a whistle, and Gwen pulled away. I saw the reflections of people staring at us in the mirror, people who had wanted to know what our relationship was but had never gotten a clear answer. People who’d heard me stumble when asked if I was a lesbian and preferred to think of me as straight, or more of a “don’t ask don’t tell” policy. I didn’t care about them now. I didn’t care about anything but her. I leaned into her again but she pulled back, smiling uneasily.
“A little eager, are we?” she laughed, and glanced at our audience. They had the decency to look away and try to make small talk amongst themselves now that we’d acknowledged them. She always did this, always tried to make light while she put up her guards. I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel her lips against mine. I wasn’t asking her to consent to a XXX floor show, it was just a kiss.
I ran my fingers through her short hair and stroked the shell of her ear. “Please,” I begged. “Please don’t do this now. Just kiss me again. That’s all I want. Nothing more.”
Happy Reading! It's delicious.
http://tabbyqt.wordpress.com/2012/12/04/heat/
Excerpt:
She had a beer in her hand and her grin was a little too open. She smelled like smoke and I leaned my head against her leg to breathe it in. She must have been out on the patio, smoking and talking. Her fingers tangled in my long hair as she fingered the strands.
My buzz kicked in double time. She was more intoxicating than any alcohol in the world. She could make me forget my manners, my inhibitions, my own name. I let my fingers idly create patterns across her jeans. She was still wearing her jacket, I noticed. A heavy corduroy button up, far too hot for the sweltering room. I sat up to ask her about it and wavered. Maybe I’d had more to drink than I thought.
Her fingers left my hair and I tried not to pout. “Gwen,” I started, intending to ask about the jacket, but she looked at me. She looked me right in the eyes and I was pulled back to our moment under the stars. Her face was flushed, her eyes were shining, and there was some deep longing in the lines of her face, in the pigments of her freckles, that begged me to ask her. I couldn’t hear the noise of the party anymore. Couldn’t hear the talking or the glass bottles, could only hear her breathing and the rush of blood through my ears, like the waves of the ocean.
“Kiss me,” I breathed, and she swallowed tightly but didn’t look away. She let out a slow breath and tried to grin.
“You sure you want that?” She swirled her beer bottle. I moved even closer to her, her leg cradling my breast, her side pressed against my front, my shoulder. She had several inches on me this way, but I didn’t care. I wanted to reach out and touch her but my training with horses had me scared I’d spook her.
“I’m sure,” I nodded, our mouths only an inch apart. I was drowning in her gaze. She looked lost, bewildered, wanting, waiting, calculating- so many things. I rested my hand on her thigh and she finally brought her hand up to wrap around my throat, her thumb lifting my chin, and she kissed me.
There was something bubbling in my chest, a feeling that was so much like becoming whole. She fit exactly into all these locks and voids and jagged pieces inside me that I hadn’t realized were damaged and missing. My hand fisted onto the hem of her jacket and I pushed closer to her.
Her lips were soft and pliant against mine, sweet and gentle under the taste of beer and clove cigarettes. Her body was on fire everywhere that it touched mine, and I was burning against her. The brush of her denim jeans was rough through my shirt and I gripped her jacket tighter.
Someone called, laughed, there was a whistle, and Gwen pulled away. I saw the reflections of people staring at us in the mirror, people who had wanted to know what our relationship was but had never gotten a clear answer. People who’d heard me stumble when asked if I was a lesbian and preferred to think of me as straight, or more of a “don’t ask don’t tell” policy. I didn’t care about them now. I didn’t care about anything but her. I leaned into her again but she pulled back, smiling uneasily.
“A little eager, are we?” she laughed, and glanced at our audience. They had the decency to look away and try to make small talk amongst themselves now that we’d acknowledged them. She always did this, always tried to make light while she put up her guards. I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel her lips against mine. I wasn’t asking her to consent to a XXX floor show, it was just a kiss.
I ran my fingers through her short hair and stroked the shell of her ear. “Please,” I begged. “Please don’t do this now. Just kiss me again. That’s all I want. Nothing more.”
Dec 1, 2012
Excerpt from Starlight
As some of you know, I've been writing my first:girl series over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com and I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the latest post. For the juicy part you'll have to go to wordpress. No password needed for this one. Some pieces of the story are under password (which is very easy to get through comment, twitter, or email by saying please!)
Starlight
My throat felt tight and my eyes were hot. I gulped for air and turned my head to rest my cheek on Gwen’s breast. I couldn’t keep it in and my chest heaved against hers as a quiet sob ripped through my throat.
“What are you- Oh my god, are you crying?” Gwen asked incredulously, stroking my shoulder. I sat up, shoving her arm away from where it had been wrapped around me and wiped a tear from my cheek.
“I’m not crying!” I protested, but my voice broke. “It’s just-” Gwen was laughing at me! “Come on, do you have no heart? Bette and Tina are supposed to be together forever!” I sobbed at her. “You knew this was going to happen and you made me watch it anyway, you bitch!"
She cracked up, doubled over laughing at my heartbroken state. “It’s a TV show. Tabby, you’re crying over L Word. They’re not real!” she managed in between chuckles.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s – They’re – Jesus, Gwen, she was her first!” I wasn’t crying anymore, mad at her instead.
“So she can go out and experience something new,” she shrugged. “That’s a good thing. You never know what’s going to happen, who’s going to stay together or get together or get back together or what’s going to fall apart. That’s all part of the fun.” She got up to get herself a glass of water.
“It’s not fun,” I grumbled, clutching a pillow to my chest. I wiped the stray tears from my face and the ache behind my eyes dimmed and took up residence faintly behind my heart. She brought a glass of water for me without asking and I gulped it down gratefully. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I’d gotten. Wordlessly, she handed me the other glass and I drank the whole thing as well, but slower. I handed it back to her with a raised brow and then flushed. Right, I’d been crying, of course I was thirsty. “Can we watch something happy now?” I begged.
“Happy? With lesbians?” she joked wryly. “Pick out whatever,” she gestured to the shelf. I looked through the titles she’d already made me watch: My Summer of Love, Itty Bitty Titty Committee, But I’m a Cheerleader, Lost and Delirious, Better than Chocolate, and Boys Don’t Cry. I guess happiness was a mixed bag.
I shrugged, still thinking about the fictional break up I'd just witnessed. "Can we just...I don't know."
"You want to go for a walk?" she asked, and I lit up. How could she know me better than I knew myself? We pulled on our coats and I slipped on my flats as she took a cigarette from a pack in the back of a kitchen drawer. It was odd that she wanted to smoke, since usually it was a social thing for her, but we had both been stressed out at work. She lit it and we quickly made our way out the front door, locking it behind us.
The night was cold and crisp, the stars overhead were glowing, crystal clear points in a dark lake. Our breath fanned out in front of us and frost was already gathering on the grass. The tops of my feet chilled between my flats and the hem of my jeans.
"Gwen," I took her hand in mine, velvet-soft, warm, slightly larger than mine. We fell into synchronized step immediately, I'm not sure whether it was a conscious effort on her part or not. It didn't seem like it.
"What's up, girl?" she asked, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. I loved when she did that. I loved the Christmas smell of her vanilla and clove cigarettes and wondered what she must taste like.
"What's it like to live in the city, where you can't see the milky way, or the teaspoon?"
"The teaspoon?" she laughed questioningly, pulling another drag off her cigarette.
I nudged her playfully. "Pleiades. The Seven Sisters. It looks like the Big Dipper but really, really tiny so I always called it the teaspoon. It's right there," I pointed it out to her and she readjusted her glasses.
"Wow, I don't think I ever even realized there was a constellation there," she confessed, cigarette pressed against the frame of her glasses. She still hadn't let go of my hand. I let my head drop to her shoulder and looked up at the stars, breathing her in.
"There's a thousand of them. Cassiopeia is that big 'W' shape, and her daughter Andromeda and Perseus are both up there with her. Perseus is carrying Medusa's head - that red star right there is her eye, and it's a malicious star in every culture."
"Weird," she craned her head back to look at the constellations I'd pointed out. The cold bit into my skin and I was shivering, but my nose brushed against the skin of her neck. I leaned in and kissed the warm, soft skin below her ear, begging silently for her not to pull away.
Continued at tabbyqt.wordpress.com
Starlight
My throat felt tight and my eyes were hot. I gulped for air and turned my head to rest my cheek on Gwen’s breast. I couldn’t keep it in and my chest heaved against hers as a quiet sob ripped through my throat.
“What are you- Oh my god, are you crying?” Gwen asked incredulously, stroking my shoulder. I sat up, shoving her arm away from where it had been wrapped around me and wiped a tear from my cheek.
“I’m not crying!” I protested, but my voice broke. “It’s just-” Gwen was laughing at me! “Come on, do you have no heart? Bette and Tina are supposed to be together forever!” I sobbed at her. “You knew this was going to happen and you made me watch it anyway, you bitch!"
She cracked up, doubled over laughing at my heartbroken state. “It’s a TV show. Tabby, you’re crying over L Word. They’re not real!” she managed in between chuckles.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s – They’re – Jesus, Gwen, she was her first!” I wasn’t crying anymore, mad at her instead.
“So she can go out and experience something new,” she shrugged. “That’s a good thing. You never know what’s going to happen, who’s going to stay together or get together or get back together or what’s going to fall apart. That’s all part of the fun.” She got up to get herself a glass of water.
“It’s not fun,” I grumbled, clutching a pillow to my chest. I wiped the stray tears from my face and the ache behind my eyes dimmed and took up residence faintly behind my heart. She brought a glass of water for me without asking and I gulped it down gratefully. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I’d gotten. Wordlessly, she handed me the other glass and I drank the whole thing as well, but slower. I handed it back to her with a raised brow and then flushed. Right, I’d been crying, of course I was thirsty. “Can we watch something happy now?” I begged.
“Happy? With lesbians?” she joked wryly. “Pick out whatever,” she gestured to the shelf. I looked through the titles she’d already made me watch: My Summer of Love, Itty Bitty Titty Committee, But I’m a Cheerleader, Lost and Delirious, Better than Chocolate, and Boys Don’t Cry. I guess happiness was a mixed bag.
I shrugged, still thinking about the fictional break up I'd just witnessed. "Can we just...I don't know."
"You want to go for a walk?" she asked, and I lit up. How could she know me better than I knew myself? We pulled on our coats and I slipped on my flats as she took a cigarette from a pack in the back of a kitchen drawer. It was odd that she wanted to smoke, since usually it was a social thing for her, but we had both been stressed out at work. She lit it and we quickly made our way out the front door, locking it behind us.
The night was cold and crisp, the stars overhead were glowing, crystal clear points in a dark lake. Our breath fanned out in front of us and frost was already gathering on the grass. The tops of my feet chilled between my flats and the hem of my jeans.
"Gwen," I took her hand in mine, velvet-soft, warm, slightly larger than mine. We fell into synchronized step immediately, I'm not sure whether it was a conscious effort on her part or not. It didn't seem like it.
"What's up, girl?" she asked, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. I loved when she did that. I loved the Christmas smell of her vanilla and clove cigarettes and wondered what she must taste like.
"What's it like to live in the city, where you can't see the milky way, or the teaspoon?"
"The teaspoon?" she laughed questioningly, pulling another drag off her cigarette.
I nudged her playfully. "Pleiades. The Seven Sisters. It looks like the Big Dipper but really, really tiny so I always called it the teaspoon. It's right there," I pointed it out to her and she readjusted her glasses.
"Wow, I don't think I ever even realized there was a constellation there," she confessed, cigarette pressed against the frame of her glasses. She still hadn't let go of my hand. I let my head drop to her shoulder and looked up at the stars, breathing her in.
"There's a thousand of them. Cassiopeia is that big 'W' shape, and her daughter Andromeda and Perseus are both up there with her. Perseus is carrying Medusa's head - that red star right there is her eye, and it's a malicious star in every culture."
"Weird," she craned her head back to look at the constellations I'd pointed out. The cold bit into my skin and I was shivering, but my nose brushed against the skin of her neck. I leaned in and kissed the warm, soft skin below her ear, begging silently for her not to pull away.
Continued at tabbyqt.wordpress.com
Nov 14, 2012
Day 23 Kissing
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
There are different levels of kissing. There's the kiss your best friend's mom gives you because you're being great to her baby girl. There's the kiss a child gives you because you just lit up their whole world. There's the kiss your girlfriend gives you and you feel like you can't breathe because your mind is running so fast and you're feeling all the feelings. And there's the kiss that makes your heart click into your chest because you're in love and you've never felt so whole.
My best friend's mom kissed me goodbye when I was visiting them during election week, a nice motherly smack on the cheek which filled me with a warm tenderness. A small child refused to let go of me at work today, as she does every day, because her time with me is considered precious to her. I treat her with kindness, compassion, and respect and give her upset feelings the same consideration I would give an adult's instead of writing them off as a tantrum. Lots of hugs and occasional cheek kisses from that little one.
The redhead and I broke up a while back, so it's been some time since I've had a really great, passionate, all the feelings, kiss. I miss those. I love those. I love the adrenaline, the affection, the happiness, and the heart pounding and the swelling chest and the mile a minute thoughts and the pulse throbbing through my fingertips.
It's been longer since I've had an "oh, this is what it feels like to have my heart stop bleeding because the other half is finally back in my chest" type of kiss. The kind of kiss that can be so simple, so sweet, but so electric, so absolutely against every law of physics and biomechanics that it bends the universe to the lips of two people.
Thank goodness I've got my dreams, or I'd go crazy. I guess if all else fails I can just sit outside a Domino's Pizza and write erotica ;) Did you miss that tweet? Don't worry, it was nothing special. :D
Update: She appeared again last night - the girl I don't know. But this felt more like an early dating phase in our relationship. We were biking down a trail near a large river, filled with people. We stopped to take in the view and she hugged me to her, my head on her chest as she stroked my hair and I traced my thumbs over the skin above her waistband. It was the happiest, the calmest I'd felt in a long time.
A sweet moment, soon interrupted by threats and grumbles from those around us. Uncomfortable and a little afraid, we began to walk until we came upon a precipice with the river far below, and on the other bank a Tegan and Sara concert was starting up. Happy to find an ally, we shouted their names until they noticed us and turned a spotlight on us.
They decided to play a game for our freedom, and two of their stagehands brought us microphones, declaring that we would sing two songs. Thinking they would be Tegan and Sara songs, we agreed, and she started first. It was an old song, and they had changed all the lyrics to make it funnier, but she stuck to the original (something about a "corvette built for two" and "how I love my boyfriend" that she sang to me and made me giggle). I could tell they were displeased. My alarm went off before we ever got to my song. It was a roller coaster of a dream, but all the ones with her in it leave a lingering happy feeling.
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
There are different levels of kissing. There's the kiss your best friend's mom gives you because you're being great to her baby girl. There's the kiss a child gives you because you just lit up their whole world. There's the kiss your girlfriend gives you and you feel like you can't breathe because your mind is running so fast and you're feeling all the feelings. And there's the kiss that makes your heart click into your chest because you're in love and you've never felt so whole.
My best friend's mom kissed me goodbye when I was visiting them during election week, a nice motherly smack on the cheek which filled me with a warm tenderness. A small child refused to let go of me at work today, as she does every day, because her time with me is considered precious to her. I treat her with kindness, compassion, and respect and give her upset feelings the same consideration I would give an adult's instead of writing them off as a tantrum. Lots of hugs and occasional cheek kisses from that little one.
The redhead and I broke up a while back, so it's been some time since I've had a really great, passionate, all the feelings, kiss. I miss those. I love those. I love the adrenaline, the affection, the happiness, and the heart pounding and the swelling chest and the mile a minute thoughts and the pulse throbbing through my fingertips.
It's been longer since I've had an "oh, this is what it feels like to have my heart stop bleeding because the other half is finally back in my chest" type of kiss. The kind of kiss that can be so simple, so sweet, but so electric, so absolutely against every law of physics and biomechanics that it bends the universe to the lips of two people.
Thank goodness I've got my dreams, or I'd go crazy. I guess if all else fails I can just sit outside a Domino's Pizza and write erotica ;) Did you miss that tweet? Don't worry, it was nothing special. :D
Update: She appeared again last night - the girl I don't know. But this felt more like an early dating phase in our relationship. We were biking down a trail near a large river, filled with people. We stopped to take in the view and she hugged me to her, my head on her chest as she stroked my hair and I traced my thumbs over the skin above her waistband. It was the happiest, the calmest I'd felt in a long time.
A sweet moment, soon interrupted by threats and grumbles from those around us. Uncomfortable and a little afraid, we began to walk until we came upon a precipice with the river far below, and on the other bank a Tegan and Sara concert was starting up. Happy to find an ally, we shouted their names until they noticed us and turned a spotlight on us.
They decided to play a game for our freedom, and two of their stagehands brought us microphones, declaring that we would sing two songs. Thinking they would be Tegan and Sara songs, we agreed, and she started first. It was an old song, and they had changed all the lyrics to make it funnier, but she stuck to the original (something about a "corvette built for two" and "how I love my boyfriend" that she sang to me and made me giggle). I could tell they were displeased. My alarm went off before we ever got to my song. It was a roller coaster of a dream, but all the ones with her in it leave a lingering happy feeling.
Nov 11, 2012
First:girl Part 1
The day was sweaty, the room filled with estrogen, and gossip was a tangible, sticky humidity that clung to the skin. The summer sun poured in through the windows, and dust motes sparkled like a swirling cloud of yellow glitter.
A group of people walked into the far room, and the women around me peered at the fresh meat. Two tall boys, one pierced and dangerous, the other clean cut and a little dorky. With them was an amazon woman with long, flowing hair, and shorter than all of the others by at least a foot, was the person who caught my attention.
She was wearing beige plaid shorts that hit at the knee, black converse with holes in the sides, a gray short sleeved t-shirt, and had hair cropped short to the scalp with a fringe of bangs over her big amber colored eyes. When she looked up and grinned, her teeth were slightly crooked, giving a playful appearance.
I swear, I wanted her in that one moment. My pulse throbbed through me and my thoughts were nonexistent. My brain was too full of her. I was halfway out of my seat when one of the other girls pulled me back to reality with a touch on the arm and an accusing, "Where are you going?"
I slowly lowered myself into my seat, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. I didn't want to let her out of my sight. I craved her presence, wanted to shake her hand merely for an excuse to touch her skin. I knew if she left and I never saw her again, there would never be another as wonderful as her. It was crazy, I didn't even know her! Hadn't heard her voice or learned her name!
But the group walked out of the room, and my heart sank to my feet. Losing all casual pretense, I got out of my chair and walked briskly to my manager. "Who were they?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but I'm sure my voice betrayed me.
"They are the new trainees. They will be working here starting next week," she answered me.
Thank God! I went back to my work station feeling dizzy. I sat down and thought about what next week would bring. I would find a reason to talk to her. Her preference didn't matter, who she had dated, who she was dating- I would charm her, woo her, romance her, and make her mine.
I dreamed of her every night for a week. I started work the next week hoping that we had been put on the same shift. It was a hectic day, and I quickly lost myself in the hustle and bustle of my work until I saw her in the hallway. I must have looked like a hot mess, because she was grinning at me in that way that suggested she had been watching me and was thoroughly amused by my actions. I pulled myself out of my crouched position and blew a piece of hair out of my face.
"Hi, I'm Tabby," I think I managed a grin as I held out my hand, and I knew my eyes were sparkling way too brightly to seem as if I was uninterested.
"Hey, I'm [first:girl]. I work in [a different department.]" She grinned in a cocky way and took my hand. She had the softest skin and her voice was slow and smooth. My heart was pounding in my throat and I felt a little high.
"Nice to meet you," oh my God, I was grinning like a fool. "Are you working [my shift]?" Her grin broadened and I swear she could see right through me.
"Yeah, I am. I'm really excited about it. I've signed on for the next year." (We were working on a contract basis.) She sounded so cool, why couldn't I be as cool as she was instead of a blundering idiot? I finally realized I'd been holding onto her hand for way too long and let go, taking in a breath as I told my heart to calm down.
"I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other." Finally, something came out with a half grin and a somewhat languid inflection.
"I guess. See you around, Tabby." She turned and walked away to do her job, but I swear she was laughing at how obviously attracted I was to her.
I turned back to the hectic mess which was my job, crouching back down to the floor, but not really paying attention. My every thought was focused on her: the next time I'd see her, the next thing she'd say. There was no embarrassment at my actions, no shame at throwing myself at her, no questioning of my sexuality (which I had considered myself to be fairly straight only several days before.)
You have to understand that at this point, in my frame of mind, she was not a woman. She was not a taboo, and I was not a "lesbian." She defied labels of every sort. My sexuality never crossed my mind once as I focused on the task of getting first:girl to like me.
I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked.
Day 20 Heartbreak
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Sorry, guys, you know what this is going to be. I think it's about time you got the back story on first:girl. It's going to read kind of like a story, so, this should be fun. Because isn't heartbreak always?
Okay, going back into this, years ago, you need to know who I was.
You have to understand, going back in time, that I had questioned my sexuality for years but was only just beginning to act on it. No one had ever expected me to be anything other than very straight, and very young. While I was smart, my social sense was underdeveloped. I was a social butterfly who didn't understand the games people played, a naive girl who believed in rainbows and acceptance and "true love conquers all." I had just gone through a very confusing year, and the start to my summer hadn't exactly gone as planned (see Awakening) when I was totally rejected the first time I asked a girl on a date.
The second half of my summer started to look up when I got hit with a bolt of lightning at work one day.
She was absolutely everything I ever wanted but never knew I could have.
I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked.
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Sorry, guys, you know what this is going to be. I think it's about time you got the back story on first:girl. It's going to read kind of like a story, so, this should be fun. Because isn't heartbreak always?
Okay, going back into this, years ago, you need to know who I was.
You have to understand, going back in time, that I had questioned my sexuality for years but was only just beginning to act on it. No one had ever expected me to be anything other than very straight, and very young. While I was smart, my social sense was underdeveloped. I was a social butterfly who didn't understand the games people played, a naive girl who believed in rainbows and acceptance and "true love conquers all." I had just gone through a very confusing year, and the start to my summer hadn't exactly gone as planned (see Awakening) when I was totally rejected the first time I asked a girl on a date.
The second half of my summer started to look up when I got hit with a bolt of lightning at work one day.
She was absolutely everything I ever wanted but never knew I could have.
I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked.
Oct 29, 2012
Day 7 Redux Exes
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Dear Lovely,
I used to hate it when you talked about your Brazilian ex-boyfriend. Okay, yeah, he was hunky, and maybe you wanted me to be jealous (was that it?) and if so, it worked. Did you enjoy feeling dominated and possessed? Was I trying too hard to avoid being clingy that you felt under-loved, under-appreciated? You made me feel jealous, yes, but I was also hurt. I think a lot of lesbians have issues dating bisexual girls because there is this feeling of inadequacy that comes along with the territory.
You like men, that's fine, whatever, but you were with me. I don't have rippling pectorals and a rock hard six pack and a chiseled jaw. I'm a lady. I'm pretty sure you got the idea of my feminine wrapping when you started stroking my arm in the bar and whispered in my ear how soft my skin was.
I couldn't believe you were interested in me. I think your accent alone could unravel me and your fingers could weave a more beautiful tapestry from the threads. But amongst your traits, this one bragging, boasting, constantly talking about past sex with men - I just couldn't get past.
I'm sorry, I really am. You were so many possibilities and I could see them all flash through my mind - but when you pulled away I couldn't fight for you. Whether you left now or five years down the road, I just don't think we were meant to be together.
You were a flash fire- a searing heat, filled with warmth, joy, a sort of spiritual rebirth after I had been crushed too many times, but by very definition, burned out quick as it began. But, you renewed my faith in relationships when my past experiences had my hopes withering. I wish you all the best, lovely.
T
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Dear Lovely,
I used to hate it when you talked about your Brazilian ex-boyfriend. Okay, yeah, he was hunky, and maybe you wanted me to be jealous (was that it?) and if so, it worked. Did you enjoy feeling dominated and possessed? Was I trying too hard to avoid being clingy that you felt under-loved, under-appreciated? You made me feel jealous, yes, but I was also hurt. I think a lot of lesbians have issues dating bisexual girls because there is this feeling of inadequacy that comes along with the territory.
You like men, that's fine, whatever, but you were with me. I don't have rippling pectorals and a rock hard six pack and a chiseled jaw. I'm a lady. I'm pretty sure you got the idea of my feminine wrapping when you started stroking my arm in the bar and whispered in my ear how soft my skin was.
I couldn't believe you were interested in me. I think your accent alone could unravel me and your fingers could weave a more beautiful tapestry from the threads. But amongst your traits, this one bragging, boasting, constantly talking about past sex with men - I just couldn't get past.
I'm sorry, I really am. You were so many possibilities and I could see them all flash through my mind - but when you pulled away I couldn't fight for you. Whether you left now or five years down the road, I just don't think we were meant to be together.
You were a flash fire- a searing heat, filled with warmth, joy, a sort of spiritual rebirth after I had been crushed too many times, but by very definition, burned out quick as it began. But, you renewed my faith in relationships when my past experiences had my hopes withering. I wish you all the best, lovely.
T
Steam
This is playing in my head on repeat. I can only imagine what dreams it will bring.
Update: Dreams get so slutty sometimes. It's not exactly rare for me to have sexy dreams, but it's not common. So, last night I knew, I could just feel it before I slipped off that my state of mind was in that place. You know the place I'm talking about - the place where you ache to touch and be touched, to breathe against skin and feel wrapped in heat.
So the dream came as no surprise, but the setting shocked the hell out of me. Remember in Day 2 when I mentioned I've been having marrying/being married dreams? This was one of those. It feels strangely private even though I don't really know this girl and it didn't even happen in real life.
We were in our apartment, it was definitely our apartment, it felt warm, comfortable, lived in, and she was getting ready to leave. She looked wonderful, jeans and boots, and I felt uncomfortable next to her in my too glam for me dress.
"Hey," I stopped her from leaving with a hand on her arm. God, she was warm, so warm, and my legs were freezing. I wanted to curl into her. "It's your bachlorette party and I want you to have fun and everything," I smiled, stroking the soft skin below her neck, "but if you sleep with someone else the night before our wedding I will kick your ass, got it?"
She grinned and leaned in for a kiss. I let her take me, desperate, fearful, joyous, triumphant, wanting. "You got it," she promised, and reached for the door. I pushed her back and she let me, surprised. I took her mouth and felt her moan rumble through my chest. I reached for her hand and led her fingers up my bare leg to my waist and she pushed harder against me. I popped open the button on her jeans and she pulled away, breathless, "What are you doing?"
I knew we both had to leave, but I couldn't stop now. I slipped to the floor and touched my lips to the skin of her hip, took a few breaths to make sure either of us could stop this if we wanted to - if we were really worried about time or other people. I could feel her shake against me as the warm air passed over her flesh. "Reminding you just what you're coming home to," my lips curved against her skin, and when our eyes met it was electric.
Update: Dreams get so slutty sometimes. It's not exactly rare for me to have sexy dreams, but it's not common. So, last night I knew, I could just feel it before I slipped off that my state of mind was in that place. You know the place I'm talking about - the place where you ache to touch and be touched, to breathe against skin and feel wrapped in heat.
So the dream came as no surprise, but the setting shocked the hell out of me. Remember in Day 2 when I mentioned I've been having marrying/being married dreams? This was one of those. It feels strangely private even though I don't really know this girl and it didn't even happen in real life.
We were in our apartment, it was definitely our apartment, it felt warm, comfortable, lived in, and she was getting ready to leave. She looked wonderful, jeans and boots, and I felt uncomfortable next to her in my too glam for me dress.
"Hey," I stopped her from leaving with a hand on her arm. God, she was warm, so warm, and my legs were freezing. I wanted to curl into her. "It's your bachlorette party and I want you to have fun and everything," I smiled, stroking the soft skin below her neck, "but if you sleep with someone else the night before our wedding I will kick your ass, got it?"
She grinned and leaned in for a kiss. I let her take me, desperate, fearful, joyous, triumphant, wanting. "You got it," she promised, and reached for the door. I pushed her back and she let me, surprised. I took her mouth and felt her moan rumble through my chest. I reached for her hand and led her fingers up my bare leg to my waist and she pushed harder against me. I popped open the button on her jeans and she pulled away, breathless, "What are you doing?"
I knew we both had to leave, but I couldn't stop now. I slipped to the floor and touched my lips to the skin of her hip, took a few breaths to make sure either of us could stop this if we wanted to - if we were really worried about time or other people. I could feel her shake against me as the warm air passed over her flesh. "Reminding you just what you're coming home to," my lips curved against her skin, and when our eyes met it was electric.
Oct 27, 2012
Day 5 Redux Dreams
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 5 — Your dreams
Instead of a letter, I decided to share. This was last night's dream:
I was wandering through a small alleyway near one of the places where I work, when I stumbled upon a candle shop. There was a woman inside, a customer, dipping a wick into white and blue wax, creating a candle. I browsed the store and found a beautiful candle in a wavy design, dipped in layers to create a rainbow pattern. The tag read $30.00, much less than some of the other, duller candles. My heart started beating faster in my chest and I felt warm and radiant. I wanted to make one.
I strode toward the front counter to find the shop keeper, but there was only the woman making the blue and white candle. Suddenly, a woman with glittering, dark eyes appeared from behind a thick curtain I hadn't noticed before.
"Hello, dear. Let me guess, you want to make the rainbow candle?" I was astonished she could read me so quickly, but she brushed it off with a gleam in her eyes. "I'm a psychic as well as a candlemaker. Each candle calls to a person for a specific purpose." She was interrupted by a good looking girl with short blonde hair coming in the door. In the dream I could tell she was gay, and she radiated sadness.
"Take a seat at the table, please, each of you. In the seat to the left, you may tell the negative aspects of your story, and in the seat to the right, you may tell the positive." The other girl began to speak, but the psychic interrupted her. "Positive first, please."
Words started to pour out. I was hyped up on all the sugar in the world. I couldn't stop beaming. My heart was expanding so far and so fast that my chest couldn't possibly contain it. "I want a rainbow candle because of this girl. Last time she didn't notice me and that was alright-"
"Was it?" she questioned. I wasn't sure. I felt so wonderful. Plus, wasn't this the positive chair?
"No, I guess I was heartbroken, but I learned from it," I quickly moved on, feeling happy and sparkling again, "but if there's only ever going to be a few people in my life who make me feel this way, I want to experience it. Even if it's only for a moment, like a comet." I couldn't hold still. My veins were filled with champagne and I was bubbling, effervescent. My breathing was harsh and I could feel my face was red with exultation. "I want it to streak across my life with such bright glory that it will sear into my memory and the beauty and love and excitement of this moment will never leave me!"
The psychic beamed. "I'll help you make it for free," she told me, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I woke up. It was so disorienting, breathing so harshly in the dream, and then waking up to a body that was taking a slow, calming inhale. It felt weird, and wrong, almost as if I were waking up to the wrong body altogether.
I'm not sure exactly what this dream means. I never saw myself switch to the negative seat, and I never heard the other girl's story, but even as I wrote this, my heart beat fiercely against my breast and my face flushed. The joy I felt in the dream lingers on. It's a gorgeous feeling. I wish I could share it with you.
Day 5 — Your dreams
Instead of a letter, I decided to share. This was last night's dream:
I was wandering through a small alleyway near one of the places where I work, when I stumbled upon a candle shop. There was a woman inside, a customer, dipping a wick into white and blue wax, creating a candle. I browsed the store and found a beautiful candle in a wavy design, dipped in layers to create a rainbow pattern. The tag read $30.00, much less than some of the other, duller candles. My heart started beating faster in my chest and I felt warm and radiant. I wanted to make one.
I strode toward the front counter to find the shop keeper, but there was only the woman making the blue and white candle. Suddenly, a woman with glittering, dark eyes appeared from behind a thick curtain I hadn't noticed before.
"Hello, dear. Let me guess, you want to make the rainbow candle?" I was astonished she could read me so quickly, but she brushed it off with a gleam in her eyes. "I'm a psychic as well as a candlemaker. Each candle calls to a person for a specific purpose." She was interrupted by a good looking girl with short blonde hair coming in the door. In the dream I could tell she was gay, and she radiated sadness.
"Take a seat at the table, please, each of you. In the seat to the left, you may tell the negative aspects of your story, and in the seat to the right, you may tell the positive." The other girl began to speak, but the psychic interrupted her. "Positive first, please."
Words started to pour out. I was hyped up on all the sugar in the world. I couldn't stop beaming. My heart was expanding so far and so fast that my chest couldn't possibly contain it. "I want a rainbow candle because of this girl. Last time she didn't notice me and that was alright-"
"Was it?" she questioned. I wasn't sure. I felt so wonderful. Plus, wasn't this the positive chair?
"No, I guess I was heartbroken, but I learned from it," I quickly moved on, feeling happy and sparkling again, "but if there's only ever going to be a few people in my life who make me feel this way, I want to experience it. Even if it's only for a moment, like a comet." I couldn't hold still. My veins were filled with champagne and I was bubbling, effervescent. My breathing was harsh and I could feel my face was red with exultation. "I want it to streak across my life with such bright glory that it will sear into my memory and the beauty and love and excitement of this moment will never leave me!"
The psychic beamed. "I'll help you make it for free," she told me, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I woke up. It was so disorienting, breathing so harshly in the dream, and then waking up to a body that was taking a slow, calming inhale. It felt weird, and wrong, almost as if I were waking up to the wrong body altogether.
I'm not sure exactly what this dream means. I never saw myself switch to the negative seat, and I never heard the other girl's story, but even as I wrote this, my heart beat fiercely against my breast and my face flushed. The joy I felt in the dream lingers on. It's a gorgeous feeling. I wish I could share it with you.
Dec 31, 2009
NYE/Trivia
That last post is not how I want to end the year, not what I want to come back to in the New Year, but I'm still organizing the "chapters" of my trip, as it was very long and eventful. Instead, I thought I would share some New Year's Eve trivia and plans.
This is only my second New Year where I have been comfortable kissing women at midnight.
I have only stayed up to watch the fireworks at midnight twice. Both times were at New Year's parties in high school, and both years I broke up with my boyfriend right after.
I was at Disneyland for New Year's Eve two years ago. The park was so crowded you could barely breath, and the fireworks were canceled at 6 pm due to high winds. As a result of being pushed around all day, I was exhausted and went back to the hotel room, asleep before 10pm.
I have never had champagne on New Year's Eve.
I like to play scratch off cards on New Year's Eve, and have one for tonight.
I like dressing up for New Year's Eve, even if I'm by myself in my room.
I have always worn high heels on NYE.
I have never slept at another person's house on NYE. I did sleep in a hotel room once.
My own NYE tradition is to drink whatever I'm drinking out of a wine glass. This year it is Coca Cola and Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash, respectively.
I have never seen NYE fireworks in person.
I live not far from a casino which is having a New Year's bash. I am trying to decide if I should be fun and outgoing, and go, or be comfortable and frumpy and stay home with a good book and some pajamas. Oh, what a decision!
This is only my second New Year where I have been comfortable kissing women at midnight.
I have only stayed up to watch the fireworks at midnight twice. Both times were at New Year's parties in high school, and both years I broke up with my boyfriend right after.
I was at Disneyland for New Year's Eve two years ago. The park was so crowded you could barely breath, and the fireworks were canceled at 6 pm due to high winds. As a result of being pushed around all day, I was exhausted and went back to the hotel room, asleep before 10pm.
I have never had champagne on New Year's Eve.
I like to play scratch off cards on New Year's Eve, and have one for tonight.
I like dressing up for New Year's Eve, even if I'm by myself in my room.
I have always worn high heels on NYE.
I have never slept at another person's house on NYE. I did sleep in a hotel room once.
My own NYE tradition is to drink whatever I'm drinking out of a wine glass. This year it is Coca Cola and Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash, respectively.
I have never seen NYE fireworks in person.
I live not far from a casino which is having a New Year's bash. I am trying to decide if I should be fun and outgoing, and go, or be comfortable and frumpy and stay home with a good book and some pajamas. Oh, what a decision!
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