Someone Else's Lady

As time passed, things between Michelle and me turned serious enough that I moved in with her. I loved making her home my own. She had a beautiful two-bedroom condo near the beach. It was modern and stylish, yet simple—not too big, not too small. Michelle warned me that part of being with a homicide detective meant that she would be working erratic hours. This meant that sometimes she would have to suddenly up and leave—be it in the middle of the night, in the middle of lovemaking, in the middle of watching a movie together, in the middle of shopping, in the middle of just about anything. I assured her that I would rather have odd hours with first best than predictable hours with second best. The only time it got a little depressing was when she was on loan to the FBI in Los Angeles for nearly a week. We Skyped each other when we could, but I still felt a sense of loneliness I'd never experienced before, even though we agreed that I would stay with Madeline and Maira. I think that given her line of work, it made her feel like I was safer if I wasn't home alone. Madeline and Maira definitely helped distract me from some of my loneliness, but I still missed Michelle and almost felt like she'd been away a lot longer. The good in it was how excited we were to see each other when she got back. We had sex like nymphos for three days straight, often climaxing several times per session—another thing that was new to me. I remembered Angela from time to time, but not as much since Michelle and I had become an official item. I wasn't even sure that I would see her again because it had been a while, and even though I was forever grateful to her for saving my life, I didn't know if I wanted to see her after I pissed her off. Then one day, I was having trouble getting a snack from the vending machine. The machine just didn't want to give it up and satisfy my sweet tooth that demanded satisfaction. I pounded on the glass with my tiny fist to no avail. Suddenly, a hand reached out in front and above me, smacking and shaking the machine with a lot more force than I could muster. It was a long, slender but well-toned arm. They wore a watch with a half-inch brown leather strap. Angela. The sweet treat tumbled down with a crinkly thud. I reached under the flap and grabbed it. Then I glanced up at her. "Thank you." She gave a curt nod and was about to speak, perhaps to chew me out for swearing at her, but then somebody called to her. She turned to face them, and I slipped into the elevator. I saw Angela again a week later when she came into the eatery that Michelle and I often had lunch at. She and I were holding hands affectionately and giggling like typical lovers. If Angela didn't know we were a pair, she knew now. "Hey, Neumann," Michelle said, spotting her first. I glanced behind me, never letting go of Michelle's hands. "Come join us." Angela glanced at me and then back at Michelle. "You sure?" "Sure, why not?" I said. "We were just getting ready to order." Angela slid in next to Michelle. "My very significant other and I come in here a few times a week," Michelle told her with a proud and happy smile. "Oh, lovely," said Angela. "I've always liked the food here." It was evident to me that Angela was a bit surprised. But was she surprised that I was with Michelle, or was she surprised that I was a lesbian? After we gave the waitress our orders, I decided to settle my curiosity. "Did you know I was a lesbian?" I asked Angela. "No. I knew that she was," she gestured toward Michelle, "but I didn't know you were." "Us lipstick lesbians may be rare, but we do exist." Michelle and Angela laughed. Then Angela said, "I wear lipstick and I like women. Sometimes, that is. I still do have a thing for Greek men as well." More laughter as I observed Angela's lipstick. It was a very subtle color compared to mine, which was a light peachy pink as opposed to the bold red lipstick I wore. I bit into my tuna melt sandwich. This was definitely going to be one very interesting lunch.