After the third time that her and I just happened to find ourselves making eye contact across the room I turned to my friend and said, “Hey! See that woman over there? I am going ask her to go on a date with me.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, laughing at the abruptness of the statement.
“She keeps looking over at me, smiling, and then looking away with confused micro-expressions on her face. She gay.” I explained with open hands and a look that said “that was that.”
After a moment I could tell that my friend thought I was stretching. So I continued, “I’d bet you twenty bucks that she thinks she’s straight, but she’s attracted to me and it’s making her feel the wiggly warm gay little feelings.” I explained with what I can only assume is sign language for “worms in the belly” and an assurance that comes from the collective shared experience of every embodied androgynous person I’ve ever met.
“What?” He said. “You need to deflate that ego. That woman is not into you. She’s clearly on a date with the guy she’s with!”
“Yeah, I know. So why does she keep making eye contact with ME? Shouldn’t her focus be elsewhere?” I quipped with a smirk. “Everyone’s at least little gay. I don’t need her to be attracted to 99.9% of women to get a ‘yes’, I just need her to be attracted to me!” I laughed at my own attempt to justify my plan to disrespect the hell out of this poor guy across the table from her. “I just need her to be .1% gay.”
I mimed picking a piece of paper out of a large bowl and said in my best Effie Trinket voice, “May the odds be ever in my favor!”
When my friend could no longer resist my exaggerated grin and wide eyes, he said. “Okay but how are you going to ask her out while she’s on a date with someone? You cannot go over there and humiliate him.”
“Fair enough.” I conceded. “They didn’t drive together. I noticed her when she came in and was bummed when I saw that guy come in to meet her. If he leaves first I’ll go talk to her… then it will just be fate!” I suggest.
I silently prayed to all of the deities I could think of that he would leave first and waited.
My very large green tea finally made it to where I could hold my bladder no longer and I had to risk that she might leave while I was in the bathroom. “Don’t let her leave while I’m gone.” I jokingly commanded, as I hustled to the bathroom as quickly as is socially appropriate.
I picked the closest stall, and rushed to get my pants off so I could hurry through my business and return to my stakeout. While I was washing my hands she came through the door.
We made eye contact through the mirror and the way she smiled at me confirmed my suspicions in full. I turned to her and said, “Are you here for me?”
“I don’t know. Yes? I don’t know.” She blushed and hid her face with her hands.
“I see.” I said, while taking a step closer to her. “So yes?”
She doesn’t break eye contact with me, but instead of answering she nervously chewed her bottom lip.
“Let me just ask you this. Would you consider meeting me, in this coffee shop, same time tomorrow?” I gently suggested.
“Like on a date?” She asked.
I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “Just meet me here tomorrow. We can decide afterwards if it was a date or not.”
Her face fully flushed, so before she could say yes or no I said, “I’ll see you here tomorrow.” And I left.
I raced out to my table with exactly none of the suave composure that I had just maintained in the most thrilling interaction of my entire life. I shoveled my books and notebooks and pens into my bag, kissed my friend on the cheek, and said, “I gotta’ go. I’ll text you to explain. Bye!”
He chortled as I tripped over the leg of a chair as I ran for the door so it could appear as though I mysteriously vanished while she was composing herself in the bathroom.
As soon as I felt safely escaped I prayed, “Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Mormon Jesus, and any and all of the gods who are up for negotiating: Please let her come tomorrow. Please please please. I’m doing the Lord’s work here, by trying awaken all the little gay spirits that are within each of us. Please bless these efforts by bringing her to that coffee shop tomorrow. In all of your names, Amen.”
The next day I got to the coffee shop 30 minutes early to make sure that I could settle into my seat, as that is the minimum amount of time that it takes when you’re my flavor of neurodiverse. I wiggled and shifted, changed tables twice, and nervous laughed every time the staff made eye contact with me.
Finally, I confessed, “I’m meeting someone here. I’m a little nervous. She’s too pretty for me so I showed up early in the hopes that I could be cool and composed by the time she got here…” I shrugged my shoulders and held up my hands like, “What can you do?”
The two employees I was talking to laughed and simultaneously expressed versions of “that makes perfect sense, we’ve totally been there, you’ve got this.” It was precious and it disappeared at least half of my remaining anxiety.
I saw her pull into a parking space in front of the store. I inhaled all of the air in the room and let it out slowly through pursed lips. “I can’t believe she came!” I exclaimed to myself.
“Is she here?” One of the staff said to me as they wiped off a table nearby.
“Ya” I said, because that was all of “yes” that I could manage.
They laughed, gave me a hearty pat on the back, and said, “Good luck, man!”
“Thanks.” I spit without taking my eyes off of her.
She sat in her car for what felt like an eternity. I could see her mouth moving, so she was either on the phone with someone or talking to herself, likely debating if she was insane for actually showing up to meet me. I resisted the urge to run to her, and was so relieved when she finally turned off her car and walked to the door.
“Are you here for me?” I asked, when she walked up to the table where I was waiting to greet her.
“Yes. I think I am.” She said.
I gestured to her chair while I sat down and said, “I’m so glad.”
“So… what’s your name?” She asked, with a crooked smile.
We belly laughed together at the undeniable electric tension of the moment, and finally I said, “Right. I guess we skipped that part yesterday. I’m Jess.”
“I’m Hadley.” She said with a barely perceptible flutter of her eyelashes.
“Let’s order something and then we can get to the good stuff.” I suggested.
As she stood I placed my hand on the small of her back to guide her to walk just ahead of me on the way to the register.
Sensing no resistance to my touch I gave myself a mental high five.
For the first thirty minutes we just chatted, swapping stories with hilarious and self-deprecating twists and turns. I love a good story teller.
After a particularly funny quip of hers, she cracked herself up so hard that she forgot she was nervous. She laughed into both of her hands until she had tears coming out of her eyes. She wiped her tears, let out a deep sigh, and let her hands fall to the table, where she grasped my forearm and squeezed.
Her eyes got wide as she realized that she was still touching my arm with both hands and time froze. I held her eye contact while I covered her hands with my free hand, pressing them gently into my arm.
“That’s nice.” I stated, while waiting to see if she would pull her hands back.
“That is nice.” She agreed. Holding it as long as she could before she quickly withdrew both hands to her lap, and said, “I don’t know what’s happening!”
“Let’s talk about it.” I suggested. “What is happening?”
“I’m straight!” She stated with wide eyes and arms reached straight out to her side as if to reemphasize just exactly how straight she is.
“Yeah! Totally. This feels platonic to me too.” I said with a smile. “I didn’t feel tingly all over my body when you put your hands on me. I didn’t want to kiss you the moment I saw that it was you who was coming into the bathroom yesterday. And I’m sure you didn’t feel those things either. Because you’re straight! Totally…” I waited and hoped that this playfulness would be well received.
A smile broke out on her face and she buried her face in her arms on the table. “Yeah me neither. I didn’t feel any of those things either… because I’m straight.”
She lifted her head and rested her chin on top of her clasped hands. She slowly raised her eyes to meet mine and said, “What does this mean?”
“Well that’s up to us to decide, I think. Yeah? But I think it means that we are both interested in exploring what it might feel like to kiss, and touch a little more. What do you think?” I offered as gently as I could manage.
She sighed and said, “Yeah. But what does THAT mean, that I want to do those things? I don’t think I’m gay.”
“Well there’s a whole deeply complex range of sexualities between gay and straight, so all that this means is that you might be .1% less straight than you thought you were. What percentage of men do you find yourself feeling sexually attracted to?” I asked.
She let out a guffaw and said, “I mean… 5%? Maybe10% on the high end?”
“Right. Not being attracted to 90% of men doesn’t mean that you’re not attracted to men. It just means you’re not attracted to ALL men. It’s the same for all genders. The percentages just change a little bit depending on your preferences. Being attracted to me just means that maybe you're attracted to .1% of women.” I offered this as my best explanation of how I understand the complex thing we call sexuality.
She took a moment, thought to herself while gently nodding her head, and then she said matter-of-factly, “Okay. So maybe I'm just a little bit gay?”
“Exactly." I said with a laugh. "You’re in full control of if you want to lean in or out for this breath and then the next.” I lean towards her offering my hands palms up on the table.
She tentatively took my hands and held my gaze.
“Can I take your glasses?” A staff member said to us, reaching over our clasped hands for our dishes.
Without breaking eye contact with me or releasing my hands she said, “Sure. We’re done.”
When they walked away having taken an obnoxious amount of time to clear two glasses and a few discarded sugar packets, she said to me, “I think I just need to know what it feels like to kiss you, but I’m too embarrassed to do that here. I live in the apartments just across the street, would you want to go there instead?”
“Am I willing to drive across the street for the opportunity to kiss the most beautiful woman who has ever agreed to go on a date with me?” I hopped up in response, shoving my phone and keys into my pocket while offering her my elbow so she could lead us back to her place.
“You’re ridiculous!” She laughingly said, "I thought we would decide it was a date at the end!". But up she hopped up with almost as much urgency as me.
“I’m comfortable with that, let’s go!” And off we went.
She started walking towards her car and then stopped and said, “Just ride with me, I’ll bring you back to your car.”
“You’re the boss.” I said with a wink and a smirk.
When we arrived at her apartment she awkwardly offered me a tour.
“Sure!” I said. “But you just let me know when you’re ready to get back to your experiment.” I pulled out some chapstick and applied it to my lips while making exaggerated eye contact, and then offering a little air kiss to make sure the message I was sending was clear.
She squealed and said, “Okay! I will!” Then she grabbed me by the hand and said, “Welp! This is my apartment. This is my kitchen, my living room, okay kiss me!” She blurted abruptly, surprising even herself.
She clasped her hands over her mouth like she couldn’t believe that she said that. I closed the distance between us and gently peeled off one hand at a time and placed them around my waist, resting her hands on my lower back. I then placed my hand on her mid back, and the other on her left cheek.
I kissed her slowly, to make sure that I was in constant awareness of if she was leaning in or out. She leaned in.
Our lips touched softly for one or two heartbeats. She looked up at me without releasing her hold on me and said, “That’s nice.”
I smiled and responded just as she had in the coffee shop, “That is nice.”
She then brought her hand up to my face and pulled me in for another kiss. This one was deeper. We gently explored with the tips of our tongues until she brought her hands to my shoulders and pushed me gently away.
“What now?” She breathlessly said as she collapsed onto the couch next to me.
I rearranged myself slightly so I could look directly into her eyes, and I said, “Whatever you want! I want to kiss you again, and if I’m being totally honest, I want to kiss you all over.”
She squirmed and squealed and said, “This is crazy!”
“Maybe. It’s your experiment, and there is absolutely no pressure. I am so grateful to the women who were able to help me figure out just exactly where I fall on the sexuality spectrum, and if you are having fun exploring that with me then please consider this is my consent to be experimented on.”
She grinned, nodded her head, and chewed on her bottom lip like she had in the bathroom when I first asked her out.
“Great! Then I’d like to kiss you again, and then I’d like to touch your body. If that feels good I’d like you to finish giving me a tour of your apartment, maybe ending in your bedroom, where you can remove your clothes and see what it feels like to be touched by another woman. But you’re in control, and at any point you can let me know that you’ve had enough.” I drew her face to mine before pausing to say, “Yes?”
“Yes.”
I felt her open mouth meet mine, our tongues quickly finding each other again in a sultry embrace. She exhaled into my mouth with an audible moan as I lowered my hands gently embracing the back of her neck, her shoulders, and then pulling her to her feet standing in front of me, face-to-face.
“Tour?” I suggested gesturing a path forward.
“Tour!” She replied cheerfully. “There’s really only one other room, I guess… I mean, and the bathroom!”
“Nah, the bathroom is where our story began, you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.” I said with a wink.
“Okay! Then off to the bedroom.” She said
She guided me into her room where she hopped onto the edge of her bed, patting next to her as an invitation.
I kicked off my shoes and dove ungracefully into the pillows. I repositioned myself with my head in one hand, and the other hand angled onto my hip in a pose like an 80’s calendar model. “How gay are you feeling right now?” I jokingly asked.
She laughed, flopped back onto the bed and scooted up to the pillows so she was laying next to me. “Surprisingly gay!”
“Fabulous!” I announced loudly, before I tackled her onto her back and playfully kissed her cheeks and neck. Then I came to rest propped up on my hands and knees on top of her. I looked deeply into her eyes and then lowered myself to kiss her waiting mouth. I gently lowered my body weight to rest on top of her. Our knees alternating, hers, mine, hers, mine.
As we kissed I could feel her eyelashes flutter occasionally against my cheek. I felt her breath as she took deep inhales and exhales and then returning for more. For the first time I allowed my tongue to deeply explore hers with a healthy dose of vulgarity and she let out a deep groan.
I shifted my kisses from her mouth to her cheek and over to just below her ear. She breathed heavily through an open mouth, mouthing the word “fuck” so it came out like a staccato whisper.
“I’m happy to.” I whispered back.
“Okay.” She said. “Fuck me.”
“Yes ma’am.” I said while instructing her to sit up so I could remove her shirt.
“Gah’damn!” I said, as her shirt came over her head and her hair fell back down over bare shoulders, “Look at you!”
Her breasts, although still hidden by her bra, were spilling over the edge of the cups, the right one a little more than the left one. I immediately decided that the right one was my favorite one.
I kissed her neck, her collar bone, and the tops of her breasts. I looked up at her from between them and said, “take this thing off?”
She reached up and squeezed her breasts with both hands and said, “Ugh. I hate my boobs. I’m scared.”
“Ah! I said. Here’s the best part about getting naked with another person with boobs, we know what they look like on human bodies, and not just magazines and porn stars. Free the titties!”
“You first!” She said, with a grin.
“Happily!” I agreed, while whipping off my shirt and sports bra in one go.
She sat up and asked if she could touch them.
“I would love for you to touch them. Kiss them. Suck on them. Bite them…” I waved my hands under them, offering them like a gift to her.
She tentatively touched them, and then she took them in both of her hands and gave them a hearty squeeze. She giggled, sucked gently on both of my nipples, and then said, “Boobs are awesome.”
“They really are. Now you go!” I said, as I gestured at her still holstered breasts.
“Okay!” She squealed, while reaching around to unclasp her bra.
She took her bra off and I was able to confirm that her right breast was in fact my favorite. She had faint stretch marks at the fullest part of each breast, and I kissed them gently before cupping them and pinching the nipples between my index finger and thumb. “They’re perfect.” I said, as I guided her back to lying down.
I kissed my way down her body, until I hit the waistband of her pants. “May I?” I asked, making sure I got a nod before I unbuttoned, unzipped, and removed her pants.
I pulled her legs apart and positioned myself between them so I could see her from top to bottom. She was stunning. The slightly darker color of her panties in the very center showed me that she was wet, and it took my breath away. I kissed her on top of the delicate fabric and felt her angle her hips towards me just slightly. I did a quick plank over top of her so I could give her a few reassuring kisses before proceeding to remove her panties.
Laying next to her I cupped her vulva with the palm of my hand, massaging it with slow wavelike motions. She closed her eyes, moaned, and pulled a pillow over her face. She pulled it harder onto her face when I gave a nipple a quick pinching to make her squeal.
I lowered my head to rest on her chest and then traced her curves lower and lower until I reached back down to tenderly explore her vulva with my ring and index fingertips. I felt the folds of her labia and pushed them around in small circular motions until my middle finger slipped in the puddle that had formed between them.
I let out a gasp, and fully released my weight onto her before I could collect myself back up to my knees. I put myself in child’s pose between her legs, with my face coming to rest just over her wetness. I hungrily consumed her while pulling her legs up enough that I could reach under them to grab her by the buttocks.
She moaned loudly, and said, “Oh no. I’m in trouble.”
“Me too.” I said, knowing that I could stay between her legs forever if she’d just let me.
I reintroduced my fingertips gradually increasing pressure until they were inside of her. Then I returned my mouth to cover her clitoris with my lips and mouth. I closed my mouth enough to gently suck in pulses that matched the pace of my marching fingers still exploring inside of her.
She gasped, threw the pillow off of her face, and grabbed me by the back of my head and the top of my shoulder. “Yeah. Like that!” She instructed.
I continued just like that until I could feel the pace of her breathing increase and her hips start to rock uncontrollably.
I kept the movements the same but I increased the pressure and intensity gradually until she said, “Oh my god! Don’t stop. Just like that.”
I felt the lighting bolt of arousal between my own legs as she announced her climax. I fought off my own climax as I stayed focused on her. I rode the waves of her orgasm with my fingers deeply inserted into her and my flat tongue deeply massaging circles around her clit. Lessening the intensity and pressure as the waves slowed and passed.
“Wow.” She said. “That was amazing.”
I kept my fingers inserted and very gently moved them like a swimmer who’s trying to stay balanced while floating quietly on their back. I kissed my way up her body and straddled her right leg with both of mine. I positioned my right thigh to stabilize the back of the hand I was using to finger her. Spreading out my pinky and index finger to offer additional support I grasped her with my middle and ring finger inserted and my thumb gently wrapped around her pubic bone.
I kissed her, gently biting her lower lip. I whispered, “Bring up your right leg so it makes contact with me.”
She pulled her knee up slightly so that her leg was pressing against my own throbbing vulva. “Like that?” She asked?
“Perfect!” I answered, as I began to thrust more deeply into her with my fingers. I used my palm to offer pressure and friction to her clitoris while I gently alternated between low pressure and high pressure.
I lowered myself more heavily onto her leg, increasing my own pleasure as I rocked on top of her.
I held her by the back of the head while I kissed her again before burying my face in the pillow and her neck.
“Faster.” She said.
Faster, I went.
“Yeah.” She uttered, almost undetectably, but I stopped accelerating and maintained that pace. Thrusting and grinding while we both gasped, panted, and groaned.
“I’m going to come.” I said, when I couldn’t hold it back any longer.
“Oh my god.” She said. Breathless.
As my legs clenched around her right leg I could feel her contract hard around my fingers just before she released a loud sigh and groan that indicated she was coming too. I fought to maintain some amount of rhythm while I rode out the waves of my orgasm. “Fuck!” I said, as I finally experienced the full release of the pent up electricity.
We fully separated, and sprawled out on our backs.
She started laughing and said, “Well that just happened!”
“Sure did!” I said with a far too wide to be cool smile.
“You didn’t even take your pants off!” She noticed wetness on my right leg and covered her face in horror. “Did I do that??”
“Yes. So obviously I can’t ever wash these again. Because I’ll need them to remind me of how you smell.” I clarified.
Mortified, she said, “That’s so gross!”
“What can I say” I said. “I like the way you smell!”
She laughed and said that she’d just have to take my word for it. “I don’t know what to do for you.” She shyly admitted.
“Nothing today” I said. “This was plenty for your first day of feeling a little gay.”
“I am feeling a lot gay right now!” She said with a nervous laugh.
I kissed her on the tip of her nose and said, “Well you’re fun to fuck, so that’s a good place to start.”
We looked at the clock and saw that we had been fooling around for a lot longer than we had thought.
“I should go.” I said.
“Okay!” She said with a pouty frown.
We got dressed and she drove me back to my car that was parked in front of the coffee shop. We sat in the car and talked for another 30 minutes before I finally said goodbye and got out. It was already almost time for dinner.
As I was walking over to my car I heard her open her door and pop out to say, “I've decided this was a date.”
“Yeah?” I asked as I ran over, picked her up, swung her around, and kissed her.
I put all of my contact information into her phone as we made plans to meet at my place for the next date, where we would paint and make homemade pizzas.
I drove home and cleaned my entire house with the focused energy that comes after the perfect first date.
As the sun started to set I opened a bottle of wine, and pulled out my paints. My doorbell rang and I walked over to answer the door.
There she was.
“Are you here for me?” I asked.
“Definitely.” She said, as she raised her hands full of the groceries needed to make pizza.
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