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The orange color of my mood ring that I wore as an affectation transfixed me and tangibly reflected my spiraling speculative journey. A toast had changed my carefree evening into one that was fraught with personal exposure.
I stood frozen holding a wine glass up in the air. I did not know what to do. I had been flirting all night with this woman who was my idol. When the water-closet bidet splashed me with cold water, it had dampened my out of control libido and figuratively allowed me to sober up to the reality of the situation I was in.
I realized I was in real trouble.
To quickly bring you up to speed, maybe I should quickly recap the night’s events that would explain how a straight girl like me could end up in this situation.
We had started the evening at a Mexican restaurant and this tall attractive blonde lady had rescued me from a cynical plot to “pick me up” by publicly but very subtly insinuating that she was my lover. I had gone along with it partly because I was swept into it by circumstance, partly because it had turned out to be a little fun, and partly because for some inexplicable reason it had turned me on. Her attention to me was very flattering. I was drunk and had gotten carried away. Mostly though, I had gone along with it because I didn’t really think it was possible. At the time, I had never suspected that she was attracted to women, or anyone for that matter. She was unobtainable and the flirting was safe like walking a tightrope with a guide-wire harness and net to back things up.
Not so much fun to realize that the harness is not hooked up to anything and the net was just an illusion of shadow and light.
I should have been overjoyed by her interest, but instead I was overwhelmed and felt trapped in a web of my own spinning.
I sensed dangers on many fronts; the danger of rejecting and of rejection, the danger of losing a new friend, (Perhaps the danger of discovery?)The danger of falling in love with someone out of reach in terms of social status but more germanely because of gender:
I wanted a long-term and fecund love relationship. In my mind there could be no happy ending to embarking on a sexual relationship with a woman, but there would be an inevitable ending. I had life-dreams and desires that were totally incompatible with the lesbian lifestyle.
This lady was well-placed in the community and was apparently in the closet. She was also well-placed at my work because she was a renowned trauma surgeon with an excellent reputation. I was just an ER nurse and who do you think would be encouraged to leave if there was any conflict over this? I guess I was protected by sexual harassment laws, but come on. I had never had a problem like this before and it was partly of my own making. I had been throwing the available and interested signals out all night.
I did not want to hurt her either through rejection or by having to protect myself. Not only would a sexual harassment lawsuit be embarrassing, it would be damaging to Dr. Beauchamp’s reputation and she had a sterling one until I realized I might “out” her. Besides I had a lot of respect for her and this was not her fault.
My hydra-like sprawling speculation was interrupted by a polite general interjection.
My thoughts had gone from 0-60 in the space of a second and I was frozen while my mind flashed immediately from personal dangers to sexual harassment lawsuits. I realized that I had gone off into my head and was still standing and holding a glass of wine in my hand upraised to a toast; a toast in which she essentially wished a happy evening for just us ladies without the interference of any men who were all worse than brutes. What was I going to do?
Dr. Beauchamp was standing, now holding her glass at her side and looking at me expectantly.
She set her glass on the table and delicately took mine from my frozen fingers. She was not stupid and must have realized that I was freaking out.
“Sit down ma Cherie.” And with that she firmly directed me to my seat.
After I sat down, she took her seat right next to mine crossed her legs and took one of my hands in both of hers. I reflected that earlier in the evening this exact action had stirred me with warm excitement; now it filled me with icy dread.
She looked down at our clasped hands and broke the silence, “You know, right after my toast I watched your mood stones change from a green to orange. I remember the circumstances in which your jewelry was orange earlier. I think I can guess what that means.”
She looked a little distressed and her face assumed a wan expression as she said, “I owe you an apology. I think I misread you and set in motion events this evening that have made you uncomfortable.”
I was dumbfounded. I had led her on and she was apologizing to me?
She looked up and right into my eyes. “Lynne, I am a lesbian and I find you enthralling. You are a warm, friendly, and izmir escort intelligent young woman. You have to be one of the most naturally beautiful women I know; both inside and out. But I realize now that you likely do not return my interest. I hope we can develop a friendship. I have not had a true lady friend in many years.”
What? She knew there was nothing natural about my face.
I was stunned to hear her admission even though I had been entertaining the notion all night and more than suspected after she repeated that toast. But to hear it out and freely given; her apology, simple and truthful made me ashamed for my jumping to extreme catastrophic consequences of my rejecting her romantically and sexually.
She was truly remarkable and I did not deserve her admiration.
“I have a confession of my own.” My voice was barely audible. This was truly painful and I dropped my gaze to the floor. I was about to admit to leading her on and that I was confused by my own behavior when she stopped me dead in my tracks.
She said something which truly shocked me.
“I met your girlfriend when you were in your coma.”
I looked at her blinking my eyes in rapid succession trying to process that statement.
She must have sensed my confusion. “The pretty blonde-haired girl came around every day for a few hours until she was asked to leave by your family. I had spoken to her. She was very upset and told me that she loved you but had made a terrible mistake and now it was too late to fix things. I naturally presumed that you were once lovers.”
In a flash I realized the only person she could have meant.
Haley was the girlfriend, but; we only kissed each other in bars. I had assumed it was because we had realized that our drinks were free if we pretended to be two pretty lesbian girlfriends who were possibly available under the right circumstances. It wasn’t honest, but we were young and the attention was almost more intoxicating than the alcohol. I had never known that she visited me while I was in a coma because I had stopped talking to her. It was about 2 months before my accident when we had ended up kissing in private and it had turned me on. When she shoved it in my face, I was scared and very recklessly retaliated by having a drunken one-night stand with a man I had just met. I transferred the shame and guilt of the whole affair onto her and never spoke to her again. I didn’t know what to say! I realized that I had treated her very badly, but everything had happened at once!
I had gotten pregnant that night.
I never told anyone.
I knew there was a problem when my nipples and areola had turned a plum color. But I was desperate to deny it.
My nipples had always been a rosy light-pink and then one day I noticed that they were a noticeably darker shade of rose. I also realized that my bra wasn’t fitting as well as it had and actually that my breasts felt fuller. I was approaching my period and I had attributed it to just the normal swelling and tenderness of my menses.
I didn’t think I had missed my period; it had been just a few days early and the flow was lighter than usual. But I was relieved because foolishly I hadn’t used protection with the cowboy and I knew that darkening of nipples was often an early sign of pregnancy. I reasoned that maybe it was just the tanning bed that was causing a hyperpigmentation.
But when I missed the next one, I knew. My previous “period” had been the spotting and cramping from the implantation of an embryo. I must have realized it on one level, but I was unconsciously doing things to avoid noticing. It sounds weird, but I have heard it is common for many people. I attributed my mood swings to being upset about Haley and guilt over my out-of-character action of sleeping with a stranger. I worked as an ER nurse so loose-fitting scrubs were the uniform of the day at work and I just wore sweats and loose tee-shirts at home. Showers were all business because I was usually running late for time. And working so much was what was making me tired all of the time.
At least I hadn’t had morning sickness.
I had waited out as long as I could until there was just no denying that I had missed my period. That morning, I got out of my shower and looked critically at my body in the mirror. I had put on a little weight. There was no denying that my belly was distended a little as if I were really bloated. My breasts had grown almost one cup size. (In my denial, I was still trying to fit them into my regular bras.) When I examined my breasts I realized the slightly darker rose of my areola that had originally gotten my attention was now a rich plum color. They were larger in diameter and there were these new small bumps in the areola periphery. The nipples had plumped and were very prominent.
There was no denying it anymore; my body was going through the changes of early pregnancy. But I alsancak escort still had to confirm.
That night, I had taken a pregnancy test from the ER supply. I didn’t take it until the end of the shift but I know I had to have to have been acting distracted all day. I went into the staff bathroom, locked the door and pee’d on the stick.
It was positive. I had counted back to the only night it could have been and determined that I was about 10 weeks pregnant. I left work somewhat in a daze and then was involved in that horrific accident.
When they told me I had lost the baby after I came out of the coma, I had been really confused because I didn’t remember being pregnant. It became a part of the confusion of recovery and I hope it doesn’t make me sound like a bad person, but I hadn’t had time to come to grips with being pregnant before my accident. I know intellectually it was a part of me that died, but losing my baby was no more emotional for me than losing a tooth.
I had been living numbly for the last three years and now was time to pay the piper.
It all hit me at once and I dropped my head in my despair.
Tears started to well up in my eyes, overflowed my lids, and started to drip to the floor.
She reached over and placing her shapely fingers underneath my chin and raised my head back to level.
“Are you crying? What have I said that has upset you?” She didn’t exactly have panic in her voice, but there was a true note of concern. I hadn’t realized that I was shedding tears, but now I was feeling so wretched that my eyes were watering uncontrollably. She stood both of us up and took me by the hand. As if I needed to feel badly about anything else, I felt horrible that I had led this beautiful and gentle soul on with my drunken behavior.
Our eyes met and we gazed at each other in a mutual unspoken understanding. I was voiceless and could only stare fixedly in my mute need; in return, her calm gaze wordlessly radiated warmth, acceptance, and understanding.
Water met sky and she gathered me gently in her arms.
Her strong presence enveloped me and I found myself crying so hard that I was loudly sobbing. She soothed me with the soft stroking of her hands and said, “Let it all out. Women in our profession have to repress a lot of sorrow and when the dam bursts sometimes there is a flood that escapes all at once from our accumulated repressed emotions.”
Oh indeed, I had a lot of repressed emotion and it was all trying to burst forth through my tear ducts.
I found myself standing, embracing, and being embraced by a very tall woman. I had taken off my heels and although I stand at a respectable 5’9″, my head was able to rest comfortably on her shoulder.
I felt safety and comfort and I allowed my grief to flow freely.
I had abandoned a friend that was in love with me; I should have handled it better even though I did not desire a romantic relationship with her. I shamed myself by getting pregnant with a stranger; I am more responsible than that. I lost my baby. I can’t be blamed for that because it was a result of an accident, but because of me a human life came into the world and was snuffed out and it didn’t mean a thing to me.
Now, I was going to have to admit that I was a self-absorbed and callous bitch to someone that I really wanted to impress and whose good regard was very important to me.
After a few moments, I self-consciously realized that I was drenching the front of her crème-colored jacket. I am glad that I had chosen not to wear a lot of make-up that evening as eye make-up would be a lot harder to clean up than my unexplained expression of sorrow. My mascara and eye-liner were waterproof so there were no worries. I did not need to feel guilty about ruining her expensive jacket in addition to the other guilt monsters that were nibbling at my insides.
Oddly that thought dried up my tears and my sobbing gradually subsided.
She set me down gently and the sat down herself. I said humbly. “I hope I didn’t ruin your clothes.” As I took the back of my hand and wiped my eyes, I checked to see if my eye make-up had run. Nope. Good.
She looked at me and said, “Being allowed to express grief is priceless. Clothes are replaceable. I may even never wear this again anyway. Don’t beat yourself up for letting your feelings out.”
I excused myself to go freshen up in the powder room, and perhaps to stall. I didn’t know where to begin or what to say. I looked in the mirror at myself. The young red-haired lady in the mirror had red-rimmed eyes that were a little swollen. Her nose was red and running. Eeww! I took some tissue, wiped my nose and wet the available towel and did my best to return my appearance to normal so that it didn’t look like I had been recently pepper-sprayed.
I exited the lavatory and saw that the chairs were in the same configuration. Dr. Beauchamp buca escort was sitting in her chair poised, with a look of empathy and concern on her nobly-lined face. She really was beautiful. She stood as I entered the room. She had removed her jacket and was dressed in an exquisite silk earth-toned floral print wrap camisole and crème slacks. From the spaghetti straps depended sheer pointelle-lace cups that did little to conceal her pert buoyant breasts that appeared to have never heard of gravity. They were not huge, but they were perfect heavy teardrop shapes that looked like someone was holding them up by an invisible thread attached to each pointy nipple. Two swathes of crème-colored lace were situated wrap-style to conceal a direct view of her cleavage, rather suggesting just the hint of perfection. She had a leopard print tie wrapped around her waist and the camisole was bordered on the bottom by more crème lace.
Not making this easy.
“Dr. Beecham, …” she instantly grabbed my hands. My eyes had dropped to the floor again and her sudden movement startled me.
“Please call me Anya, now and forever.” This time there was actual panic in her voice. I realized that I was unconsciously distancing her from me by formally addressing her. Another guilt monster.
I looked her directly in the eyes and swallowed before I spoke.
“Anya, I haven’t been fair or honest with you tonight. I am so sorry. I don’t know what I am doing and I did not mean to lead you on. Your attention is exciting but I don’t deserve it.
I need to sit for this.”
We sat down and I continued. She still had both of my hands in hers and was sitting with an expectant look on her face and she followed every word.
“Haley, the pretty blonde wasn’t my girlfriend. We were just silly girls that kissed each other for attention in bars so boys would like us. Or so I thought: apparently Haley had feelings for me; I never knew that she visited me. I had cruelly cut her off when she revealed to me that she wanted more than our casual social friendship. I have done some very bad things. I have destroyed the feelings of almost everyone that has had romantic feelings for me without realizing it.” She wrinkled her eyebrows at that.
“I have been so numb ever since my accident that I am not even sure that I have true feelings anymore. Tonight is the first time that I have had a good cry since I can remember, and I have a lot to be sorrowful for.”
I readjusted my grip on her hand so we were equally hand in hand.
“I cannot explain what happened when you kissed me. It was very sweet and I enjoyed it, but I don’t deserve it. I am afraid that I cannot return your interest like you deserve. You are warm, gentle and a complete lady. I am going to embarrass myself and tell you that I practically idol-worship you.” She smiled brightly and I think her eye moistened a little. But she let me finish.
“If you were a man and I wasn’t such a screwed-up mess, Anya, I would want to marry you. Well, that is maybe jumping to conclusions, but I think you could be perfect for me. But I want to get married and have babies. Two women cannot have that in this world because they are physically incompatible and cannot make love to create a child.”
She broke in at that, “Lynne, you must understand. I am not someone who just met you in a bar tonight. I know more about your history than most people and I have known you for three years. My attraction to you is not based on just one kiss and some flirty banter. I have watched you during this accreditation course and at work and I know who you are when nobody is watching. You are a kind generous soul. You do good acts without asking for recognition. If I am right recognition would cheapen the gesture?
I didn’t know what to say, so I simply nodded yes to answer the question, and she continued.
“I am not a saint or someone to idolize. I have done terrible things in my past as well. I have literally destroyed lives through heartlessness. My actions now are to atone for a past littered with destroyed businesses, shattered marriages, and broken lives. I cannot change my past, but I am responsible for my future.”
She released my hands and reached over and picked up her wine glass. I reached for mine.
She said “Allow me to make a new toast.
To our future voyage in life; may there always be wind to fill our sails; may our vessels weather any storm and may we always be able to find a safe harbor.”
I clinked my glass against hers while looking her squarely in the eye, said, “Salut!” and drank deeply.
Placing her glass on the table she looked over at me and said “I am starved, let us start our meal. We can continue to talk as we eat.” and touched a recessed button on a fixture.
She looked at me and asked, “May I ask you a personal question?”
I replied, “Anya, you apparently know more about me than anyone else right now, I’m an open book. Ask away. I’ll let you know if I am uncomfortable with anything.”
“You said you weren’t in a serious relationship with Haley, but she acted like a distraught lover when I met her. Your family seemed to think her presence was inappropriate. I know you say you want to marry a man. But I am unclear; are you bisexual?”
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