“Thank you, but I’m meeting someone,” Martha Anderson said to the gentleman who, having slipped into the empty chair next to her at the bar, had asked if he could buy her a drink to replace the one she’d just about finished.
It had been the second such offer the curly haired brunette had received since she’d arrived at the Toronto Ritz-Carlton a half hour before, and Martha was beginning to think that agreeing to meet at the Ritz Bar instead of in the lobby might not have been the best idea. Especially since she had taken off her wedding band, feeling it somehow inappropriate to wear, given the reason she was here. But it was too late to change either now, so she just smiled and again politely declined.
“I could just keep you company until he gets here,” the fiftyish grey templed man, who said his name was Robert, suggested, not as willing to simply walk away as the seat’s earlier occupant.
Under normal circumstances, being approached by an admittedly handsome man would’ve been a bit of an ego boost for the slim forty year old. Certainly it wasn’t the sort of thing a wife and mother of three was normally used to – at least not for quite some time. But today, the circumstances were anything but ordinary and having him here when that someone arrived would definitely send the wrong message.
“Thank you again, but no,” Martha said, indicating she really wasn’t interested by turning back toward the bar and taking a sip of the drink she had been nursing since she sat down.
With a shrug and a smile, Robert finally accepted defeat and slid off the stool, walking down to the far end of the bar and taking a seat in a section devoid of customers. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Martha wondered if he had chosen that spot because it allowed him to watch and see who she was meeting without being too obvious about it.
That bothered Martha for a moment, until she asked herself why. After all, even if Robert saw who she was meeting, what did it matter? It wasn’t like he, or anyone else in the bar, knew why she was here. And even if one of them did, it wasn’t like they were ever going to see her again. What was that old saying, keep your indiscretions far from home? Well, home was a good hour’s drive away, so it really didn’t matter who saw her.
Picking up her cell phone from the bar, Martha noted the time and checked to insure she hadn’t missed any texts. All she found, however, was the one she had read over an hour before, confirming two o’clock as their agreed-on meeting time. The clock on the phone showed it was still ten minutes to.
As she put the phone down, Martha was abruptly seized by a worrisome realization – she had to go to the bathroom. She tried to dismiss the urge, but the more she did, the more strident the need became. The ladies room was only a dozen feet down the corridor, but as far as she was concerned, it might as well have been a mile away.
As bad as being seen with a guy trying to pick her up would be, she reasoned, not being here at all come two o’clock would definitely be worse. An empty seat would look like she’d gotten cold feet and left, or not even shown up at all. No, the bathroom would simply have to wait.
Looking for any distraction, and despite the fact that she’d done so only a short time before, Martha checked her appearance in the long mirror that lined the wall behind the bar. What she saw confirmed her choice of the light blue dress she had picked to wear. Sleeveless with a hem just above her knees, it was low cut enough to give a hint of cleavage. It was the sort of thing you could wear both out to dinner or for a job interview. Around her neck she wore a simple gold chain and a small locket, a gift from her grandmother on her eighteenth birthday. Black flats completed the outfit; she had chosen comfort over style.
Then, despite the fact that her reappraisal has taken less than a minute, Martha again checked the time.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” said a strong, slightly accented voice from behind Martha, startling the nervous woman as she snapped her head upward. “I wanted to be here early, but my meeting ran longer than expected.”
In that brief interval that Martha’s attention had shifted from the mirror to her phone, a tall, well dressed woman had appeared behind her. More than a decade her senior, she was slightly taller than Martha’s five foot eight, with short, stylish salt and pepper hair and piercing rich blue eyes. A good five or ten pounds more than the younger woman’s one forty, the new arrival nevertheless had a firm build and a well developed body. She was dressed in a casual dark blue business suit and skirt, and the highlight of her outfit was a ivory cameo brooch under the collar of a simple white buttoned down blouse.
“Dominique!” Martha said in surprise once she saw the woman’s reflection in the mirror, almost spinning off the chair as she whirled around.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Dominique Lefebvre-Boulanger bahis firmaları asked with a broad smile as Martha came to a stop.
“No, I just…” Martha replied, a clear awkwardness in her voice. “It’s just that seeing you for real, I mean not just on a computer screen, I just… I mean, I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
“Why don’t you take a moment to breathe and relax?” Dominique suggested in a reassuring tone as she set herself down on the empty chair to Martha’s left. “And I’m very glad to finally meet you as well. You’re much prettier in real life.”
Martha practically blushed, thinking she should say something similar, especially since it was certainly true. Instead, she found herself blurting out that she needed to use the ladies room.
“Well then, I think you should certainly attend to that,” Dominique said, with a lightness in her voice. “I’ll still be here when you get back. In fact, why don’t I get the two of us a table while you’re gone?”
Dropping off her seat, Martha said that would be great and, in response to Dominique’s further inquiry, told her what she’d been drinking. As she turned to head down the hall towards the restroom, she caught sight of Robert watching the two of them from the far end of the bar. She wondered what he thought when he saw that the person she’d been waiting for was another woman. Then just as quickly, she tossed that aside, not caring what he thought. After all, even if their meeting was perfectly innocent, most men would undoubtedly conclude that it had some lascivious intent. If only to explain her lack of interest in them.
“My God, I still can’t believe that I’m actually doing this,” Martha said, addressing her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she finished washing her hands.
The journey that had brought her to the bar of one of the city’s most luxurious hotels had begun a bit less than two years earlier, on a night Martha remembered quite clearly. She and her husband, Hugh, were enjoying a rare night out without the kids, having dinner at an intimate restaurant, as opposed to the more family friendly sort that was their norm, before heading off to see a movie – again of a more adult variety. That the film was the latest installment of a popular spy series, a favorite of her husband’s, was a concession Martha had been willing to make since she had chosen the restaurant.
The action adventure film had its share of obligatory fight scenes and special effects, as well as the almost traditional love scene between the hero and the glamorous but misguided female lead that he seduces and convinces to come over to his side. It was during that scene that something changed in Martha, something quite unexpected.
The woman on the screen was quite attractive, there was no denying that, and the way she slipped out of her rich black gown, revealing an equally black lace thong, a garter belt and stockings before sliding bare breasted into the hero’s arms was undeniably erotic. In the past, viewing similar scenes, Martha sometimes imagined herself as the woman in the hero’s arms – a bit of harmless fantasy.
This time, however, much to her surprise, it wasn’t the male lead that stirred Martha’s imagination. Instead, she unexpectedly found herself wondering what it would be like to take the man’s place – to hold the half naked woman in her arms and feel the press of her lips against hers.
The imagery in her mind came as a great shock to the then thirty-eight year old as, prior to that night, she’d never considered the idea of being with another woman. She’d grown up in a fairly religious Catholic family, and never, not even during what some called the ‘experimental years’, even fantasized about sex with a woman.
At first, she tried to brush it aside as just a bit of curiosity, the sort of thing you might wonder about but would never actually act on. There had been other incidents like that in the past, even if they hadn’t been as extreme. The thing was, the thought kept coming back to her in the succeeding months. Films and television shows with lesbian context caught her attention, and she’d even begun to read erotic literature in that genre that she found online.
It was all very confusing. Her love for her husband hadn’t diminished, nor did her enjoyment of their sex life. But despite that, as more time passed, she couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. A feeling that only seemed to grow stronger, along with the desire to do something about it.
Finally, after nearly a year since that night, she gathered her courage and shared what she’d been feeling with her husband, certain that he wasn’t going to take it well. Much to her surprise, Hugh took the revelation much more calmly than she’d expected. While he couldn’t say he was overjoyed with her desire to expand her horizons, as he so diplomatically put it, he was at least pleased that she had come to him and not simply struck out in search of adventure on her own. If he had to kaçak iddaa share her, he’d said, then that was what he would have to do.
Finding someone with whom to expand those horizons, however, proved more difficult than she imagined.
Only an hour’s drive from their suburban home stood Toronto, which, like most cities, had its share of lesbian bars and clubs. It was easy to find their locations online, but not so easy to find one where she felt comfortable – especially since she had only limited time to devote to the search. She still had, after all, a life to live and a family to take care of. Then, when she did find what she considered a suitable forum, finding an equally appropriate partner still proved elusive.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t met any women on her infrequent excursions; there had been several she had become friendly with. They shared conversations over drinks and even a few whirls around the dance floor – but few filled her with the desire to surrender her Sapphic virginity. And it wasn’t that she didn’t have offers to do so, but a quickie romp in a bathroom stall really wasn’t what she was looking for.
And as for as those who expressed some interest in a more meaningful encounter off premises, those rarely lasted longer than the time to took to discover she was a bi-curious, married woman exploring her sexuality. As one bar patron blatantly put it, she wasn’t anyone’s science experiment. The few who weren’t discouraged hadn’t worked out for other reasons.
Nor had she been any more successful online with the couple of dating sites she’d posted ads on. Most of the responses were pretty much the same, at least until she’d gotten the response from Dominique.
Fifty years old, and out since she was sixteen, Dominique Lefebvre-Boulanger had been the Event Coordinator at the Ritz-Carlton for over ten years. She had recently come out of a long term relationship and found herself intrigued by Martha’s online ad. At least enough to suggest, after a few email and phone exchanges during which they’d exchanged photographs, that they meet for a drink at the hotel the following Friday.
It just so happened that Martha had already planned to come into Toronto that day to take in a Blue Jay game at Rogers Centre with Hugh and the boys, only a short distance from the hotel. The happenstance was too much to dismiss and she’d quickly agreed. It took little effort to get her sons to let her off the hook as far as the game was concerned, since it meant that they could invite one of their friends to go along in her place.
All of which brought her to the here and now.
‘I better get back before Dominique starts wondering what happened to me,’ Martha thought, tossing the paper towel she had used to dry her hands into the wastebasket under the sink.
Stepping back out into the bar, Martha felt a brief anxiety as, looking up and down the rows of small tables in the bar’s open area, she saw no sign of the older woman. Thinking the worst, she considered the idea that Dominique had had a change of heart about meeting her and used their brief separation to excuse herself. She was about to check with the bartender to see if maybe she had left a message when a waving hand over in a semi-lit area not open in the afternoons caught her attention. To her relief, there was Dominique sitting in one of the rear booths, trying to get her attention. Stepping around the velvet rope that closed the area off, Martha quickly moved to join her.
“I thought this would be a bit more private,” Dominique offered once Martha reached the far table.
Glancing back at the next closet patron, a good twenty or so feet away, Martha had to agree. At this distance, they’d have to be nearly shouting to be overheard.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Dominique said, drawing Martha’s attention back to the large semi-circle shaped enclosure.
The booth looked as if it could easily hold two couples, so Martha slid into the far right side, leaving at least a seat and a half between her and Dominique. It was only when she came to a stop that she noticed the wine glass sitting on a coaster just off the coordinator’s left.
“You did say white wine, correct?” Dominique asked, nodding toward the drink.
“Yes I did, thank you,” Martha replied, now shifting her position on the bench to bring the glass within reach and, by the same token, placed her only inches from Dominique. Which had undoubtedly been her intention.
Once Martha was close enough to be able to identify the fragrance the older woman was wearing, Dominique lifted her own amber filled glass and took a long sip of the contents, giving Martha another few moments to settle in and become comfortable. A condition that the younger woman thought was going to take a bit longer than that.
“Your family make it to the ball park alright?” Dominique asked as she put down her drink.
“Why yes, they were there early enough to go down to the field and watch batting kaçak bahis practice,” Martha replied, surprised at the question – at least at first.
Later on, she would understand the reason for it. By inquiring about Martha’s family before anything else, Dominique acknowledged the married woman’s situation and the limits it entailed. Anything said or discussed after that could be taken in perspective of that reality.
They spent a few minutes discussing innocuous topics, expanding on what they’d shared during their initial contacts. Martha inquired about Dominique’s accent, which really hadn’t come across on the phone. As she expected, the older woman was indeed French-Canadian, having been born and grown up just outside of Montreal. After sharing a few more details of their individual backgrounds, finishing half their drinks in the process, Dominique steered the conversation toward areas where Martha greatly appreciated their privacy.
“Feeling more comfortable now?” Dominique asked.
“Yes, I actually am,” Martha replied, wondering if the feeling was due to the effort Dominique was making to make her so, or simply the effects of almost two glasses of wine in a very short time. In the end, she decided it was a combination of both.
“Excellent,” Dominique smiled. “So tell me why, after being satisfied with cock for most of your life, you suddenly have an overwhelming desire to lick pussy?”
Martha had just taken a sip of wine and had to swallow hard as not to spit it out. She had been expecting the question, just not in such a direct form.
“Did the question surprise you?” Dominique further asked. “I hope not, because if you’ve come this far I would hope you’ve considered it before.”
“I have,” Martha replied, recovering from her initial shock.
“Good, because that’s what we’re talking about, you know,” Dominique continued. “You can kiss another girl, even touch her in intimate places, but until you have her pussy pressed against your mouth, you’re not a dyke – not even a part time one.”
Almost by reflex, Martha glanced around her as if to reassure herself that they were indeed alone in their conversation. Once she had, she began to recount the events of the last two years, starting with that night at the movies and leading on to her first forays into the world of lesbianism. She had touched on the story briefly before, but this was the first time she’d recounted the entire tale.
“The bar you went to, was that Eve’s Garden?” Dominique inquired, interrupting the narrative.
“Yes it was,” Martha answered. “Do you know it?”
“Actually, I know the owners,” she replied. “I organized their wedding a few years back in one of the smaller ballrooms. Still, I have been to the bar a few times for special events. Not the worst of places, if you’re into hit and run sex. Those days are long gone for me, though – at least I used to think so.”
That confused Martha a bit, but she didn’t ask for any elaboration.
“You find your way into the bathroom stalls or the alcoves?” Dominique asked.
“No, not the bathrooms,” Martha said, the omission of the latter confirming that she had indeed been there.
Scattered around the bar were small alcoves, less than half the size of an old phone booth and covered with what resembled a shower curtain more than anything else. Within the tiny confines, women played an adult version of a game Martha learned at make out parties when she was a teenager. Back then, it was known as seven minutes in heaven, but she had no idea what the women at Eve’s Garden called it. All she knew for certain was that it was in one of those alcoves that she had shared her first real kiss with another woman, and laid hands on parts of bodies never touched before – at least not intentionally.
“Well, nothing wrong with a little touchy-feely,” Dominique laughed softly, having taken note of the omission. “After all, a girl’s got to start somewhere.”
“I guess so,” Martha agreed noncommittally.
“But never made it back to the bathrooms?” Dominique asked again.
After taking a breath, Martha explained that there had been offers, but she really didn’t see that as her first experience. When asked if anyone had tried to take her home, she added that there had also been offers of that, a few she thought worth accepting, but all had been withdrawn when her circumstances were explained fully.
“Can’t say I find that surprising,” Dominique commented. “Other than for a quick tumble, I don’t know many women who want to get involved with the drama of hooking up with a married woman.”
Martha had to wonder if, despite her invitation to have a drink, the woman next to her might feel that as well.
“But, like I said over the phone, your story intrigued me,” Dominique said, dispelling that concern, “and I do have to admire your taste in women.” she added, referring to the actress who had inspired her epiphany. “I never really thought much of her when she was younger, just another pretty face with big boobs,” she noted, “but once she matured, well, given the opportunity, I certainly wouldn’t kick her out of bed.”
Unsure what to say, Martha took another sip of wine.