I was nervous even driving to the bar. I just turned 21, for one thing, and hadn't yet caught up with the fact that I didn't have to worry about getting kicked out any longer. On top of that, I had papers due in a week. Three weeks earlier I had broken up with my girlfriiend of a year and a half. My friend Gwen and I had decided that tonight was the night we would go to the lesbian bar, but as we had gotten ready to go, I had wanted to back out. I could tell from her tired eyes and forced cheer that she had too. But neither of us wanted to be held responsible for being too lazy to go out, so here we were, driving through the fog into the city. We put in a cd of The Gossip and listened to "On the Prowl" on repeat. "I'm like a firecracker on the fourth of July. I'll make your momma beg. I'll make your daddy cry." We at the top of our lungs with the windows rolled down, trying to banish the fog and our own exhaustion: "I'd walk a million miles for just one piece of your pie. I'm not a stranger darlin'-so don't you be shy." Of course we got lost getting there. Of course we drove in circles. Then finally we zeroed in on our neon-inverted-triangle target. It was early, too early. The place was almost empty. Gwen and I sat at the bar and ordered. I tried to take it slow with my drink, make it last, but I was pretty quickly on my third. Gwen eyed a girl she liked and finally decided to make conversation. Even on my third drink, I wasn't ready to talk, so I pretended to read a magazine. The girl she liked ended up leaving, but soon, none of that mattered. Soon, the dancing started. Finally things were getting started. The night started to sink into a haze of ass-shaking; time was passing a lot quicker now that we were on the dance floor. Soon, every song became my favorite song. Anything with a beat was like a new revelation. "THIS SONG!" I exuded to each new dance partner, "SO GOOD!!" And they would smile, probably not hearing me over the unns-unns-unns of the beat. During one stretch while I was dancing alone, a certain girl caught my eye. She was bird-like with red hair and colorful tattos. We kept dancing around the periphery of one another but neither of us was ready to make a move. I watched the way she moved and instinctively followed, unable to help sensing her body with mine. But the bar was getting more crowded, and I lost her in the jostle of people. Later, when I went out for a cigarette break, I saw her again. The crowd of smokers were all talking, I don't remember about what. She and I came to be next to each other, and she asked what I did. When I told her I was in college she laughed, "How old are you?" I was worried that my age would be a deal-breaker, but she loved it. "21?!? Really?!?" I asked how old she was and she said 29. It turned out that she worked at a gynecologist's office, which seemed almost too good to be true. Her boss was a "wonderful, feminist" gynecologist, apparently. When we went back inside, it was together, and we danced and danced, moving our hips in slow circles. "It's a good sign!" She shouted over the music. "What is?!?" I shouted back. "That we're in rhythm!" I wondered whether she realized I was following her rhythm on purpose, but there wasn't any need to tell her. When we took a break she introduced me to her friends. There wasn't enough room for both of us to sit down, so she tried to get me to sit on her lap. I'm six feet tall and she was tiny. "I'll crush you!" I said. She didn't believe it, but I convinved her to sit on my lap instead anyway. She whispered in my ear, asking me if I would go home with her. I told her I couldn't, that I'd come with my friend, and pointed out Gwen in the crowd. "But wait," I suddenly realized, "you could come home with me?" Her face lit up, and when we went to get our next drinks she held me up to the bartender like a prize, "This girl is 21. and I'm going home with her!" The bartender, a round, no-nonsense butch who had probably seen it before, just laughed and shook her head.
It got pretty late and started looking like time to go home. When I told Gwen I'd be bringing a guest she pulled me aside. "Look, it may seem like fun now but remember that tomorrow you'll be sober and she's still going to be there. When I had her convinced that I understood the full weight of my actions, we all headed out. The train ride back was a time of revelry probably not appreciated by our fellow passengers. I think we sang songs. I realized I didn't even know my date's name. She said it was Diana, "like the goddess." I made sure Diana realized that my home was a dorm room, but that it was cool because I had a single. She responded that she wouldn't have it any other way. Once we were back in the dorm, I started to get worried. Wasn't there some kind of problem having to do with drunkenness and consensuality? Would she think that she had to sleep with me just because she had come home with me? What if she was having second thoughts. "Look^Å" I started, standing in our common room. "I can just sleep on the sofa here and you can sleep in my bed. I mean, if you would be more comfortable." I wasn't really sure of the protocol, and offering her my bed seemed somehow like the honorable thing to do. She laughed, "Well, actually, I think I'd be most comofortable sleeping with you." I showed her to my room and she started taking off her clothes immediately. Her body had even more tattoos than I'd realized, and her nipples were pierced. It was all happening so fast, we hadn't even kissed yet. I turned my back, absurdly worrying that she wanted privacy. I took off my jeans and shirt but left on my bra and underwear and lay beside her on the bed. I could feel her soft skin on mine, but I just wasn't sure what to do. I reached over her and turned out the light. Would we just sleep like this all night? We lay silently for awhile. The awareness of her body wouldn't let me sleep, but I didn't know what to do. Finally, she asked quietly, some uncertainty creeping in, if she could kiss me. I answered yes in a small voice. We were suddenly like much younger, shy girls at a sleepover, yearning to experiment.
We kissed tentatively at first, then harder. Her body felt even smaller in my arms than it had looked. Our bodies were pressing against each other, side by side, and there was so much skin. We were both laughing as we kissed, bringing our smiling mouths back together again and again. I was running my hands up and down her her shoulders, lower back, hips, sometimes over her breasts. Between kisses, Diana kept exclaiming, "Our skin is so soft. Your skin is so soft and so is mine!" in a way that made me wonder if it was her first time sleeping with a woman. I continued to wonder when she had trouble with the clasp of my bra. My breasts were buzzing, longing to be touched. Softly she asked me to take it off myself, and all my skin was covered with goosebumps of anticipation as I leaned forward and unhooked it. With the sweep of the tip of her tongue down from my neck to my nipple, some distant part of me thought, no, this isn't her first time with a woman. My hips started to push uncontrollably as her mouth moved back and forth between my breasts. She made the "mmm-mmm!" of someone intentionally showing her appreciation for cookies baked by a friend, and in return I could only gasp. I let out a low moan when she brought her hand up between my legs, very lightly running her fingers very lightly over me through the thin cotton of my underwear. Now my hips started to buck in earnest, and she revved me up then suddenly eased her hand back away, and kissed down from my breasts to my belly. I was completely silent and still, not even breathing as I felt her mouth move lower. She didn't keep me waiting for long and soon she pulld off my underwear and I could feel her mouth right on me, couldn't feel anything but the rhythm of her tongue. I came fast and hard, moaning with no consideration for the neighbors. She came back up with a grin and kissed me.
She asked me for a cigarette, and I balked. "But!^ÅYou!" was all I could manage. I think she got my meaning because she smiled and assured me there was plenty of time. I pulled out the cigarettes and an empty forty bottle to ash into from under my bed. She seemed extremely excited about smoking in bed and ashing into the forty. I couldn't understand her excitement because it was pretty standard practice for me at the time, but if she wanted to fetishize my lifestyle, I had no problem with that. We talked much easier now, giddily almost, about our childhoods, our families, what we were doing with our lives. When we were done with the cigarettes we went back to kissing with none of the nervousness of earlier. I eased on top of her, carefully resting my weight on my arms and knees, and kissed down her neck to her small, pert breasts. I kissed just underneth where they met her chest, then slowly up the sides and in towards her nipples. I was a little flummoxed by the nipple rings, and tugged them gently with my lips, traced around them with my tongue. I ran the tip of my tongue down in large circles around her flat stomach, dipping down further and further towards her pelvis. I dwindled at her hipbones where the skin was taut, then down and inward to the crease of her leg. She had a faint and pleasant smell, and I finally let my longing tongue reach her clitoris. I fell into intense concentration trying to match the speed of my tongue to the movement of her hips. She called to me to use my fingers. I was nervous about the possiblity of unwanted penetration, did she just mean she wanted me to switch from my mouth to my hand? Her urgency grew and her meaning became clearer and impossible to ignore. Still tentative, I pulled the tip of my finger up and rested it lightly on her wet opening. It felt delicious, even more as I could almost feel her pull my finger in and eased it in gently, then adding another and another. I guessed a spongy spot might be her g-spot and moved my fingers there in time with my tongue. She moaned and I lost track of time and everything but the rhythem of her body. Eventually her bucking body fell still and I felt her spasm around my fingers. Reluctantly I eased my fingers out of her and lightly kissed her clitoris. I climbed up on top of her carefully and kissed her neck. Soon, she asked for another cigarette.
We kept going like that: kissing, going down on each other, smoking, talking, until it was dawn and we could barely keep our eyes open. When we couldn't even hold up our heads any more, she asked me to spoon her and I happily obliged, falling asleep kissing her colorfully tattooed shoulder. The next morning I drove her home and never saw her again. I never had another one-night stand because what are the chances another one would be that nice?