| danseuse's story-Feb 2004 February 2004, when I was still 14 years old, it had already been a very cold snowy winter. It had been 5 months since Jennifer and I had become an "item" as Dad would put it. We were best friends, and now girlfriends, and lovers. I wasn't interested in boys nor other girls. I was hers alone. Jennifer is 3 months older by the way. I hate to say this but this isn't about her, although this happened because of her (indirectly). Dad was out in Boston doing some work and I had walked over to Jennifer's to spend my time with her. Sitting at their kitchen table for lunch, there was Jennifer and her parents, myself, Jennifer's sister Robin, and a woman who was a friend of Robin's. Barbara is her name. (Not to be confused with my Dad's Barbara, who is now my step-mom.) Barbara and I were, of course, introduced to each other, and in finding out we are both participants in the Arts, we spent time talking. I am a dancer, and will always be even if it is only in my heart. Barbara, on the other-hand, is an artist. She does commercial art for her living, but is a sketch artist and painter as well. We sat on opposite sides of the lunch table but not opposite each other. I kept looking over at her even as I would be talking with someone else there. I couldn't help it. Barbara was 34 I later learned, and about 5' 7" with a figure that, of course, was more filled out than I am but still not fat or slovenly. She had dark, dark eyes and black hair she kept on the short side, kind of a tousled look but so fitting for her. Her mouth was lightly rouged and looked so like satin to my eyes. I think I was entranced by her although I know she never had intended to seduce me in any manner. Anyway, she told me a friend was having an exhibit of paintings and drawings of dancers and would I be interested in seeing it. I not only was delighted with the idea of seeing this other woman's work but I'm sure my heart leaped a bit at the idea of being with Barbara. I know that deep inside me I was hating myself for my betrayal of Jennifer, but it was nothing I actually thought out. Jennifer's mom called my dad since Barbara was a friend of their family to ask him in my behalf and at the same time to vouch for my safety with Barbara. Dad, being the most fab parent alive, said okay. I won't go into much about the exhibit other to say I was taking hours there studying each and every painting and drawing, looking at each of the dancers and feeling what they may have been feeling. I loved it big time. Anyway, while we were back at Barbara's apartment, in Boston, one of the blizzards we had that winter hit hard. The bridges and highways and trains were closed down. Even if the roads were open, Barbara's little sports car would never have gotten through that storm. Dad told me that he'd rather I didn't come back in that and so I stayed overnight. Actually it turned out to be three nights. Like I said, I could not take my eyes off of her. Listening to her made me feel so much of that warm fuzzy feeling that at that time I wanted it to snow forever. We did struggle into the streets to get me some toiletries and she bought undies for me and a pair of boots as I only had on light sneakers. She made us dinner later on with a lot of my help. Chicken Paprikash of which I love to cook and to eat of course. (Thanks to Jennifer's mom I know all those "girl" skills pretty well.) I even had some wine with her, though alcohol normally is just too bitter for me to like. She gave me one of her tank tops to wear to bed and along with fresh panties it was what I wore to bed most times at home. I didn't want to kick her out of her own bedroom and she wanted to take the couch so we finally both took her bed. We quietly talked some that night lying next to each other, watching the snow through her skylight and windows. I could feel her body's warmth without touching her and my heart and tummy were keeping me in a knot. As I finally started getting too sleepy to stay awake, she rolled me into her arms and we both fell asleep. In the morning when I awoke, I was still in her arms although we must have turned some because I was facing her and scrunched up to her. I wiggled out of her arms finally, and after doing my morning ablutions, I went into her living room to start my morning stretches and such. Normally, I would run a few miles before I got ready for school, and on days off as well at times. The blizzard was still going on and it was no weather for that. So I was working on stretches and warmups that I use in dance. I was using a bookshelf as a bar and putting one leg up on it to work on my leg muscles. Also other leg stretches and dance exercises (that the New York Dance Academy does as well) were in my regimen. Barbara had awoken and, not finding me there, had made some coffee and was sitting on her couch, legs tucked up under her bum, and was just quietly watching me. I jumped when I noticed her and was a little self-conscious. She on the other hand started telling me how lovely and graceful I was and wanted to do some sketches of me if I didn't mind. My crush or whatever one calls it would not allow me to deny her anything. She did some quick sketches while I continued my morning workout and I was floored when I saw them. Some were in pencil and others in charcoal and I swear the girl in them was me but not me. She was soooo sensual and graceful and beautiful that if it wasn't me I'd have fallen for her—long hair pinned back, socks and panties and a tank top, lithe body hinted at with the shape of a nipple inside the shirt here, the curve of a bum cheek there, face alight with the concentration yet joy at being lost in my dance. (Later on she had made a painting of one of the pencil sketches and it is still on a wall in my bedroom.) We just hung out all day talking, listening to music, sometimes not even doing or saying anything, just pleasuring in the silence and being in each other's company. Called my Dad and made sure he knew I was fine. As it turned out the storm lasted a few days so each day I gave him a call to let him know I still loved him and really wasn't running away from home. ::lol at myself:: That night I went to her bed after a hot steamy shower. I fell asleep quickly and before I had gotten into my night outfit, just nude and twisted some in the sheets Barbara told me the next morning. For some reason I wasn't embarrassed as much as felt some kind of arousal at what she saw and I hoped what she might have been thinking. Anyway, in the morning I was naked and in her arms and my face was lying comfortably on her bosoms. In fact once I awoke enough I felt a nipple just touching the corner of my lips and that, dear reader, was the hardest thing I have never done, taking that nipple and suckling. I wanted to with all my soul but I didn't want her to wake up and be shocked maybe and not like me anymore. I was even afraid to move and wake her and yet I didn't want to move from her embrace, from the warmth and comfort and yes, eroticism. That day and night were similar. For instance I was sitting on her window seat in the bay window in her bedroom lost in a book and wasn't even aware of the drawing she made of me. It was like she was following me around all day, catching me lost in things and putting them down on paper for our future pleasure. Fell asleep on her couch that afternoon with my head on her lap. She never moved and finally awoke that evening still there with her stroking my cheek, my hair, very softly. I rolled my head so I was looking up at her and I was in love with this woman. By the way, I learned later on, and should have figured it since she and Robin were friends, that Barbara was a lesbian. However she never put the moves on me and in a way I love her for that sensitivity and tenderness, yet at the same time I wish she had seduced me. We still talk and occasionally I spend a day with her. If I could be half the confidant-in-herself-and-her-choices woman as she is, have half the talent (her in art, me in dance) she has, I think I would be the luckiest woman in the world. Barbara, this is dedicated to you and I — nevermind because I'd never have the nerve to possibly ruin what we do have and I do so love my Jennifer. Rachel, danseuse de blonde |