The Adult Story Hub

But she shook her head and coughed with a laugh.

"No," she replied, still chuckling. "I guess those weren't designed to be used as personal defense weapons. Plus he had a pretty thick layer of blubber protecting his evil black heart, so that probably kept him alive, too."

We both grinned, as I took her hand in mine again. She turned her eyes up, trying to suppress her tears, and very quietly thanked me. Then she let out a long breath and fiddled with the napkin in her hand.

"So, anyway, I guess it sorta distracted him long enough so I could make my escape. I just went over to a friend's apartment... this guy I knew. He was a trucker, but not one of those, uh, what do ya call 'em? Long-haul guys. He was just some guy I met at a bar... He and one of his friends played pool with me and one of mine, so it was no big deal.

"But, anyway, I sorta moved in with him, and, I dunno... I mean, I liked him and all. He was cool. But I kept thinking, ya know, this is what it's gonna be like for me from now on. People are gonna look at me and say, 'Hey, there's the dyke. Let's get 'er.' I mean, here we are in the new millennium and we're maybe a little more civilized and all, but you know, back then..."

I nodded and squeezed her hand.

"Yeah," I replied.

Gayle shrugged and took another swipe at her nose with the napkin, saying, "So, yeah, I lived with him until I graduated a few months later, and, you know... then we got married."

She took a deep breath and raised her chin, looking me straight in the face.

I stared back at her for a moment, not sure what to say, and then asked what happened.

Gayle glanced down at the napkin she held and shrugged, as her lips quivered nervously.

"I'm a lesbian," she replied.

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she turned her eyes up to me, her face contorted and red, as she tried not to cry.

"I gave it a shot, ya know?" she whimpered. "I thought, I dunno... Like, maybe it was just some sorta phase I'd grow out of, but I didn't. And every time we had sex, and I mean every single time, I was just sickened by it, ya know? Total turn-off for me."

Gayle wiped her nose, and then glanced up at me saying, "So... yeah, I had an affair. God, you know, I really did try to give it a fair shot, but... I swear, every time I saw him naked, ya know? Every time he put it inside me, I just wanted to throw up. But it's not like I didn't like him. I mean, Hell, ya know, I even sorta loved him a little, but..."

She sat there slowly shaking her head.

"I just couldn't do it any more. I wasn't happy. So then I started seeing this other woman, you know? This lesbian, but the sad thing was, what really opened my eyes was, she was married to a guy, ya know? Just like me, and she was just fucking miserable. So I was like, hey, ya know, let's just run away together, but she said no.

"She had kids with this guy, and she didn't wanna leave 'em. I mean, yeah, I guess I can understand it, but... to feel like shit every day of your life and know there's nothing you can do about it... So that's why she told me, don't do it. Don't stay with this guy, if you're not completely happy with where your life is going with him, because sure as shit, the longer you stay, the harder it'll be to leave."

Gayle reached over to the coffee table for her glass and took a sip, and then held it between her hands in her lap.

"So how did you do it?" I whispered. "Did you tell him? Or..."

She nodded quickly.

"Yeah," she said. "I had to, ya know? Like I said, I did sorta love him a little, but it wasn't that romantic kinda love. It was more like a friend thing. I mean, yeah, I felt like shit for doing it to him, but what else could I do? I didn't wanna turn out like her, ya know?"

She sat there slowly shaking her head.

"Life's too fucking short for that," she muttered.

Then Gayle took her fingers and reached up to her ears, hooking her hair back over them and giving me a sad, exasperated expression.

"I don't wanna be in a serious relationship like that with someone, if I can't love 'em as much as I should," she said softly. And as she stared at me, looking right into my eyes, she added, "I wanna fall in love with someone. That's what I'm looking for. That's what I want."

Then an almost imperceptive curl quickly reached out to the ends of her lips.

I swallowed and let my eyes fall down to my hands.

"Whadda you want?" she whispered.

I thought about it for a moment, and then took a deep breath.

"What I really want," I replied. "Is for someone to hold me again. But... what I don't want is for someone to replace him... but... maybe to do all the things he use to do... for me... make me feel the way he made me feel."

I turned my eyes to her and she bobbed her head up and down in silent agreement.

There was a long period of silence between us, when she finally cleared her throat saying, "Wanna dance?" Startled, I slowly raised my eyes and found her smiling from ear to ear. She nudged her head toward the middle of the room.

"C'mon," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

I chuckled, replying with a long sigh, "Oh God..."

Gayle poked at my shoulder.

"Oh, c'mon," she said with a laugh. "It's not like I bite or anything. It'll be fun."

But before I could say anything more, she leapt from the couch over to the stereo.

"Here," she said, jabbing a finger at the buttons. "I'll put on something fun."

I sat watching from the couch, giggling nervously, but once more awed by how she could make me feel so good with so little effort. Then she glanced over her shoulder and held up a CD case.

"A little Jerry Lee, perhaps?" she said, with a mischievous grin.

Then she turned back to the stereo, touched a button, and the room suddenly reverberated with a lively piano melody from the fifties.

I sat on the couch shaking my head, as Gayle's body slowly started undulating with the music, swinging her hips from side to side and bending down slightly at the knees. She turned and wiggled her fingers for me to come to her. I laughed, as I watched, a little embarrassed, but suddenly feeling very cheerful and upbeat. Gayle had a knack for making me smile, whenever I was feeling down.

She stepped over to the couch and reached down for my hands, pulling me to my feet and to the center of the room. And, after a few minutes, I finally let my inhibitions down and together we danced about, as we held hands, twirling around and under each other's arms, and swinging to and fro, laughing the entire time.

As the evening wore on, the whole of my thoughts centered on Gayle and how fortunate I was to have found such a profoundly beautiful and extraordinary person. Not since my husband, had anyone made me feel so very much alive and gratefully so.

Exhausted, we finally dropped to the couch, having worn ourselves out. But it felt good all the same, though mostly in knowing that I was with someone who knew how to make me feel good and brighten my spirits.

So we sat next to each other on the couch, talking and giggling and drinking sodas, and then I leaned against her and sighed.

"You're good to me," I chuckled softly, rubbing my nose against her shoulder.

Gayle pulled back, replying with a snicker, "Are you wiping your grubby nose on me?"

I laughed, and she flung her arm around me, as we sat back. Then something startling happened, though I knew it wasn't intentional on her part. When Gayle put her arm around me, her hand hung limp over my shoulder with her fingers dangling just atop the upper half of my breast. An alert shot out across my mind, trying to signal the awkwardness of the situation, but it was quickly stifled. I didn't see the harm, and, to be honest, it didn't bother me. Instead, I reached up with my hand and placed it atop hers, pressing her fingers against my chest. And then we sat there in her quiet living room for a long time listening to the soft music, as I leaned against her and she held me close, neither of us saying a word, as nothing needed to be said.

After a while, when the lateness of the hour seemed to slip past us, I stood in her door about to leave, and turned to her and smiled, taking her hand in mine.

"Thanks," I said.

Gayle playfully swung our hands back and forth and grinned in reply.

"No problem," she said.

I was about to walk away, but stopped and turned to her once again. We stood smiling nervously at each other for a moment, and then I carefully stepped toward her, too embarrassed to look her in the face, and held out my arms, attempting an ungainly hug. Gayle chuckled and wiped the back of her hand under her nose, as if timid about this, too, but put her arms around me all the same. And with my face resting just below her neck, I could feel the warmth of her breath against my head and the sweet smell of her skin, as the faint beating of her heart was barely discernable to my ear. Then I closed my eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Gayle hugged me closer and kissed my head, rubbing her hand on my back.

"You're welcome," she replied softly.

And when we finally parted, I felt my face burning red, but looked up and saw Gayle quickly running the palm of her hand under her eyes, trying to brush away the tears before I could notice them.

"Sorry," she chuckled.

I fished the keys from my pocket, and smiled to myself, as I fidgeted with them in my hands.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" I whispered.

"Yeah," she replied, extending a hand to my forearm and gently caressing it.

I glanced up and smiled, and Gayle was pulling her hand from her face again. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, as if embarrassed, and tried to smile, but her lower lip betrayed her thoughts, as it quivered slightly.

I asked if she'd like to have dinner with me at my place the following evening, seeing as how it was Friday and Rachel would be working.

"Ok," she whispered, trying to smile, as she fought back her tears.

Before I walked away, I stepped up and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"See you then," I said, patting her arm.

As I walked down the hallway, I heard Gayle call out to me. I turned and saw her staring at the floor, both her hands braced in the doorway.

"Thanks, Jessie," she muttered, trying to smile, as two thin silvery lines rolled down her cheeks.

"I'll call you, ok?"

"Ok," she replied, and slowly stepped inside the door.

By the time I got to the car, I was in tears myself.

When I arrived home, Rachel was already in bed. I hung my coat in the hall closet and quietly slipped upstairs to my room. Inside, I carefully closed the door and walked over to my dresser. And, as I undressed, I found myself staring at the few pictures of my husband pressed under the frame of the mirror on the dresser.

I pulled my sweater over my head and gazed at his static image, trying to remember all the times I'd walked into this very room late at night to find him sitting up in bed reading, waiting for me to join him. It was so long ago now, that it felt more like an ephemeral dream, than a reality that had once been a tangible part of my life. One day he was sitting up and laughing and talking, and then suddenly he was gone, leaving a gaping wound in my existence. What remained now was a deep scar, a constant reminder of what I had, but lost.

Staring into the mirror, I saw the phone behind me on the nightstand. My heart began racing, as I turned and stepped around the bed, stopping in front of the phone. I reached down with a trembling hand, but stopped short of picking it up. I sat on the edge of the bed, clasping my hands in my lap, and closed my eyes.

"Please let me do the right thing," I mumbled.

Then I slowly opened my eyes and reached for the phone. I dialed Gayle's number and took a deep breath.

With each ring, I felt the perspiration building on my head and neck. Then I heard her soft voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

I could hear her moving around.

"Did I wake you?" I asked.

"No," she whispered.

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

"Can I tell you something?"

Gayle was quiet for a moment, and then said yes.

I wrapped my hand around the cord and sucked in deeply through my nose.

"Don't say anything, after I say this, ok?" I whispered.

"All right," she replied.

"Just... Just say goodnight, ok?"

"Ok," she said softly.

I clenched my fist tightly and closed my eyes hard, my body trembling from head to toe.

"You're my best friend, Gayle," I whispered, as my heart began pounding in my chest, and I was sure she could hear it. "...and I love you very much."

Suddenly, I felt my entire being relax, after unloading that heavy weight. Gayle was quiet for a few moments, and, just as I was about to kick myself and try to find a way to apologize, I heard her say in a whimpering voice, "Goodnight, sweet Jessie." And then she hung up.

I slowly set the phone down, stood from the bed, and trudged over to the closet and cried.

The next morning, as I walked into the school, I passed another teacher walking out of the main office.

"Mornin', Jess."

"Hey, Lyle."

I hadn't taken five steps, when he called to me again. I stopped and turned, and he said there was something for me in the main office. I furled my eyebrows, asking if he knew what it was. Lyle sipped his coffee and shrugged.

"Just a letter, I think," he replied, as he walked toward me on his way to his classroom.

"Some woman dropped it off, just before you got here," he added, as he strode by.

My eyes went wide, and I asked if she had long brown hair. He was still walking away and held up his hands.

"Dunno," he said. "That's just what Diane told me."

I turned and walked quickly back to the office. Inside, the principal's secretary, Diane, was pushing fliers and memos into the teachers' mailboxes. She was a portly woman, middle-aged and cheerful, and had a son in my class, a junior, and one of the better students I had.

She glanced at me and smiled, as I stepped around her to get to my mailbox.

"Good morning," she said with a wide smile.

"Hey," I huffed impatiently, as I snatched the papers from my box.

I walked over to the counter and quickly thumbed through the short stack of papers. From the corner of my eye, I could see Diane look over her shoulder.

"Looking for something?" she asked.

I nodded, growing antsier, as I didn't find the letter.

"Yeah," I muttered under my breath.

Diane ambled around the counter and over to her desk.

"Hey," I said. "Lyle just told me someone dropped a letter off for me this..."

And then I watched, as Diane reached down to her desk and held up a small, light blue envelope.

"This?" she asked with a grin, as she stepped over to me.

As Diane handed it to me, I saw Gayle's eloquent handwriting on the front. There was only one word on it: "Jessie".

Diane leaned against the counter, resting her forearms on it, and pointed a finger at the envelope.

"You know her?" she asked.

Still gazing at the letter in my hand, I smiled and nodded. It wasn't a regular envelope, but more the type used to hold a card. My mind was racing, as I wondered what it could be. A thank you card? But then my smile faded, as I thought back to our brief phone conversation the night before. Was this her way of saying thanks, but no thanks? All the blood in my body seemed to sink to my feet, and I felt myself go numb.

"Yeah," I mumbled softly. "I know her."

When Diane didn't say anything, I looked up and she tried to smile.

"Why?" I asked.

Diane glanced at the door to the office, and then back to me, picking at her fingers.

"Is her name Gayle Martin?" she asked.

I swallowed and nodded, wondering how she knew. Then the gears in my head started turning. Gayle's husband had been a truck driver, and Diane's husband owned a small trucking company.

"Yeah," I squeaked nervously. "That's her."

Diane laid her hands flat on the countertop and looked at me with a sigh.

"It's really none of my business, Jess," she said.

"What?"

"Her," she replied.

"What about her?"

Diane took a deep breath and looked at the door again.

"She was married to my brother," she said in a low voice.

Just as I felt a sense of relief sweep over me, grateful that she didn't say an angry woman had stormed in that morning and threw this letter at her, anxiety set in once more, as I began to realize that Diane probably knew about Gayle being a lesbian, and I'm sure she'd seen us meet outside the office for lunch over the last few months. And now she'd stopped by to deliver a card to me, though the contents therein remained a mystery.

Still, I had no doubt, if Diane knew Gayle, she also knew she was a lesbian, and it probably didn't take a great leap of logic to figure out that Gayle and I had become close friends. The absolute last thing I wanted was for people to be talking about me behind my back, spreading rumors and God knows what else.

Diane looked at me for a moment, and then down to her hands.

"So... she and your brother?" I muttered.

She nodded slowly.

"They were married for less than a year," she said. Then she sighed, saying, "I don't know the exact reasons why they separated, but I have a pretty good idea."

Her eyes drifted to mine, and then her expression turned to one of warm sympathy.

"All I'm saying is..."

Then suddenly, the door to the office opened and in walked the principal. Diane and I stood upright a bit more, and she raised her hand and smiled at him, as did I. He replied with a friendly wave, and then stepped into his office and shut the door. Diane turned back to me and leaned closer, laying her hand flat out on the counter toward me, and whispered.

"Look, Jess, all I'm saying is, as your friend, just be careful, ok?"

I nodded quickly.

"I will," I whispered nervously.

Diane looked over her shoulder, and then turned me saying, "It's none of my business, but I sorta think maybe covering your back is, ok?"

I nodded again.

"I'm not saying she's a horrible, bad person. I'm sure she isn't. But she really broke his heart, when he found out she was, you know..."

And then Diane cleared her throat, as if embarrassed to say it. Her eyes darted to mine, and I slowly nodded. She took a step closer in my direction, whispering, "Jess, she has a tendency to sleep around, ok? At least, back then she did." Then she placed her hand against her chest, saying, "But that was, what, fifteen years ago maybe? Maybe a little longer. And I don't mean she did it with other men, ok? She had an affair with another woman. A married woman."

I fidgeted where I stood and glanced down at the envelope I held.

"Yeah," I replied. "She told me about it."

Diane's smile returned, and she stood up with her hands flat on the countertop.

"Like I said," she continued. "I'm just trying to give you some friendly info. It's none of my business, and, hey, maybe she's turned over a new leaf. Besides, I mean, I always thought she was a pretty nice person, and I was really surprised, when she left him. Honestly, I never woulda guessed she was..."

"Yeah," I said, cutting her off. "She's a lesbian."

Diane slid her hand to mine and patted it softly.

"That's all I wanted to tell you," she whispered with a smile.

I slowly bobbed my head and thanked her, and then asked if she knew anything else about Gayle.

"No," she replied, shaking her head ruefully. "Not really. I know she use to go to church a lot. Tried to get my brother to come with her, but he was a little too rowdy for that," she chuckled.

Outside the office, there was a sudden influx of students, chattering and laughing loudly, as they entered the building. The buses had begun to roll into the parking lot.

"I better get going," I said.

Diane gave my hand a gentle squeeze, as I went to walk away, but then I stopped and turned back to her.

"So... What's your general impression of her?" I asked.

Over the years, Diane and I had become something along the lines of work-friends. We hardly ever spoke outside of school, mostly because she lived rather far away, but during the day, she and I had a slightly closer friendship. She was definitely someone I could confide in and trusted, and she always seemed to be a good judge of character.

Diane was walking to her desk and raised her eyebrows, upon hearing my question. She came back to the counter, and I moved closer toward her.

"You know, like I said, that was a long time ago," she replied quietly. "I liked her, but you could tell something wasn't quite right about her." Then she shook her head, adding, "Not, like, mentally or anything. More like she was always depressed. I just never saw her smile much, you know? I guess I'd say she was a good, decent person. Kinda quiet, but, like I said, she just seemed really sad, to me."

"You think she recognized you?" I asked.

Diane chuckled, her heavy chest wobbling.

"Oh, I doubt it," she replied with a laugh. "I use to be really skinny back then, if you can believe that."

I smiled, trying to imagine Diane as anything but this large, happy person. Then she shook her head.

"Nah," she said. "I don't think she did. My hair was longer, my butt thinner... I looked a lot different. She didn't act like she knew me, when she stopped by this morning."

"How did she seem?" I asked anxiously.

Diane shrugged and curled her lip.

"Seemed ok," she replied.

Then she looked at me and seemed to sense I needed a more detailed answer. She stepped closer and leaned toward me against the counter, clasping her hands together.

"I think she was happy," she said. "She was smiling."

I grinned wide and so did Diane.

"Thanks," I replied, as I tapped my fingers on the counter and walked to the door.

"Hey, Jess."

My hand was on the doorknob, and I turned to Diane, as she walked behind her desk to sit down.

"It's none of my business," she said, holding up her hand plaintively. "And no one else's... if you know what I mean."

I smiled again and thanked her, as I walked out into the hallway.

Students were everywhere, standing around the halls talking and laughing and crisscrossing my path, as they darted to their lockers, occasionally bumping into me. As I sped past, many would say hello and good morning, and I'd grin and nod or wave, but my body moved with singular purpose to my classroom. I had less than ten minutes to get there, before students would start their morning migration and a new school day began.

My heart beat faster with each step, and by the time I swung open the door and stepped into my room, I was nearly out of breath. Two students were sitting in the back of the room talking quietly and looked over at me. I grinned sheepishly and they smiled in return, and then resumed their conversation.

I made my way to my desk, pulled out the chair, and quickly sat down. I glanced at the clock on the wall: less than five minutes. With trembling hands, I plucked the envelope from my bag and held it in my lap out of view. I slowly turned it over and carefully opened the flap and gingerly reached inside with my fingers, pulling out the card within.

When I flipped it over, I slapped a hand over my mouth and giggled. There on the front was an Easter bunny, painted in watercolors and holding a bright Easter basket filled with an assortment of colorful eggs. Above him was captioned, "I thought about sending you a big, beautiful basket for Easter..." Then I slowly opened the card, and inside was a line drawing of a person holding out the empty pockets of their pants, saying, "Instead, I got you this card."

But there, on the inside cover, was a note hastily written by Gayle.

"Sorry!" it said. "This was all I could find this morning."

Further down, she wrote, "Thank you for the wonderful evening and beautiful company last night."

I felt my face turning read, as I continued reading.

"Please call me today, when you get the chance, and let me know when you'd like to meet for dinner."

And below that, as if an afterthought, she had written, "I need to hear your voice again."

My vision slowly blurred, as her words sank in. My heart raced and spine tingled, as I sat there in a daze.

"I need to hear your voice again."

I'm not sure how long I had been sitting there motionless, when someone coughing suddenly pulled me from my trance. I slowly raised my eyes and saw all the desks in the classroom filled, my students sitting and staring back at me, some smiling and others chuckling. I closed the card and carefully open my desk drawer, slipping it inside.

During the noon hour, I called Gayle at work. But all throughout the morning, between classes, I would open my drawer and read her card over and over again.