Part 15 (2/2)
Mich.e.l.le answered. She sounded crabby.
”Is Janka okay?”
”Sure, if you call an arm in a cast and a sixty dollar X-ray bill okay. She's not even going to be able to finish warping that special order. Why do you get involved with such flakes?”
”Hi, Alison.” Janka took the phone from her. ”Don't pay any attention to Mich.e.l.le. She's the Queen of Crabs because she's feeling left out. I'm fine, it was only a fracture and the cast is small. It wasn't your fault.”
”Why is Mich.e.l.le feeling left out?”
”Just because I had a good time with Seven Yellow Moons when she thought I should have been moaning and crying. Seven is a weaver, too. She's going to help me finish that big warp. She showed me some beautiful pieces that she did on a backstrap loom. She's really envious of my setup. She can't do anything like it because she lives out of her van. That's part of the reason that they're here.”
”To help you? Did they foresee the accident?” She might have to start giving Lydia a little more credit.
”No, to sell their stuff. You remember, at the lesbian artist's market. This Sat.u.r.day? Before the Harvest Ball? Mich.e.l.le and I have a table there, too.”
”Oh, yeah.” Dimly Alison remembered discussions about table s.p.a.ce and what they were going to wear to the formal. She hadn't paid much attention because she had planned on being out of town at the time. ”What does Lydia have to sell, or is she just along for the ride?”
Janka laughed. ”You've got to see for yourself. I have to agree with Mich.e.l.le. I don't see how you ever got hooked up with that woman.”
”It was on the rebound. It wouldn't have lasted if she hadn't moved in.”
”And it never would have ended if she hadn't moved out. We're going to send you to an a.s.sertiveness training seminar for your birthday.”
”Never mind. I just wanted to see how you were. Incidentally, how would you feel about doing some more undercover work if we decide it's warranted?”
”Get a chance to play Norma again? I'd love it. I'm sure I can work the arm in. Maybe my sister's lover is violent.”
”Well, plan on it and we'll talk later.”
”So how is she?” Stacy asked as she and Alison left the restaurant. Alison reported the news about Janka, Seven Yellow Moons, and Lydia. ”Did she mention Carla?”
”No. I'm sure she went home to blab everything to her roommates. I'll bet she goes back to work tonight just so she can share with strangers.”
”Do you think she should? Don't you think that the killer might still be waiting for her?”
”Surely not. It would be stupid, the way everyone is alerted. The Ruby-fruit will be the most secure place to go now. I'm sure there're going to be extra patrols swinging by all night.”
”She was f.u.c.king a cop and it didn't stop him.” At that, Alison opened her mouth to protest, though she was not sure exactly what to say, but Stacy did not give her the chance. ”Did you like it, baby?” she asked teasingly, pulling Alison close to her, whispering in her ear. ”I know she packs a big d.i.l.d.o-did she use it in your c.u.n.t? Would you like me to do that, f.u.c.k you nice and slow?”
For a moment Alison forgot that they were standing on a public sidewalk, so hot was her quick rush of desire. She strained her pelvis up towards Stacy as if the woman was already inside her, thrusting with slow strokes. Daydreaming, she recreated the scene with Carla using new players-herself in the role of the l.u.s.ty top, Stacy in the role of the naive bottom. Her fingers crept up to stroke and then pull Stacy's hair.
”Excuse me. Coming through.” A young man with a cartload of laundry jostled past them and Alison was b.u.mped out of her fantasy.
”Not here,” she said to Stacy, who had slid her hand around her waist, beneath her T-s.h.i.+rt. ”We're right in the middle of town.”
”What we're right in the middle of is the gay ghetto. Who's going to care? Look at some of these poor women-watching us is probably the most exciting thing that's happened to them in years. We're saving their s.e.x lives by giving them something to fantasize about while they dry hump.”
”No,” said Alison firmly, pus.h.i.+ng her away.
”You'll be sorry later,” Stacy teased. ”I'll make you beg.”
”You'll do that anyway.” For a moment they locked eyes, again oblivious to their surroundings. Slowly, Alison ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.
Stacy looked away first. ”Baby, oh, baby,” she murmured. ”Don't expect me to behave if you're going to keep on being such a hot woman.”
”Think of me as Nancy Drew. Clean-cut. You can be my boyish friend George.” Happily she tucked her hand through Stacy's arm.
”Thanks, Nancy. Since we're right here, why don't we walk over to Womynbooks? They back-ordered something for me a couple of weeks ago and I want to see if it's come in yet.”
While Stacy checked with the staffer Alison wandered to the back of the store and studied the bulletin board. There were handwritten signs from women looking for roommates, kittens, support groups and soccer teams, leaflets advertising concerts, poetry readings and this year's Gay Rodeo. Alison took one that told about the lesbian artists' sale and Harvest Ball. She noticed a stack of the WAV AW fliers next to them.
Stacy joined her. Alison tipped the book in her hands up so that she could read the t.i.tle.
”George, I didn't know you were an aspiring carpenter.”
”Ah, Nancy, there are many things about me you have yet to discover.” Stacy was in a teasing mood now that they had eaten. ”That's part of the fun of a new relations.h.i.+p.”
”Oh, are we a relations.h.i.+p now?” The thought rather scared Alison. Much as she liked Stacy, couldn't they just be f.u.c.k buddies for a while?
”Mmm, I guess you're right. Joanne Loulan says that lesbians tend to get married on the first date-”
”Which we haven't even really had,” broke in Alison.
”What about the quilt show? What about soccer?”
”They don't count. I mean a real date where you get dressed up and you're really nervous beforehand and you have firm plans....”
”And you can bring each other flowers? Let's do it.” Stacy scanned the leaflets. ”Look, here's the perfect event. The Lesbian Chorus is sponsoring another Harvest Ball. Did you go last year?”
”No. I was working.”
”Oh, it was great. Everybody dressed to the teeth. I'm talking tuxedos and formats and heels, the whole bit. The prom you never got to go to.” She made a face. ”Or a chance to forget the prom that you did go to.”
”Do we have to go butch/femme?” It wasn't the question Alison wanted to ask. What she really wanted to know was what would happen if she appeared in public, in real public, with Stacy. Would she immediately become categorized or even ostracized? She had already tasted it and wasn't sure she could deal with it.
”Yeah, they won't let us in at the door otherwise. You know how strict those chorus women are about role playing. No, of course not. Everybody just wore what they had the most fun with. I had this great purple formal that I ran up, sequins on the top and velvet on the bottom, and evening gloves.” She indicated a place on her upper arm, showing how high they had come. ”I even got my hair done up in a French twist and glittered.”
”I don't know. That might be too much for me.” Alison meant that she had nothing that fancy in her wardrobe, but in a way she also meant that she was not at all sure that she was ready for this second coming out.
”Oh, I got a little carried away. There were lots of women there in their regular clothes, or little numbers that they'd picked up at the Salvation Army. I just like to dress up.”
”So I've heard,” Alison remarked dryly. A little spark, the same heat that had overcome them on the sidewalk pa.s.sed between them, and it seemed to Alison for a moment that they were not really making plans for a public dance, but arrangements that were much, much more intimate.
”So, do you want to go? On a real date?”
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