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From: basmith@newshost.li.net (Brenda Ann Smith)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Kate and Emily:  Interlude.
Date: 15 Jun 1996 03:30:59 GMT
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                           Interlude.
                            (6/03/96)

     Two weeks passed and I still hadn't seen you.  You were busy
during the week and so was I, preparing for a gallery opening the
following weekend.  I would have liked your companionship that
night but I thought it might be awkward to pretend to be the
happy couple.

     Sunday I strolled through the Village and further downtown. 
I wandered, really.  The day was unusually cool for June.  The
wind lashed through my hair and whipped my coat open.

     When I stopped walking, I stood in front of a church. 
Small, barely noticeable.  A plain red brick building with a
black and white sign proclaiming its name.  This was a Roman
Catholic church and, I checked my watch, I was in time for the
evening mass.

     The last time I was in a church was before Molly died. 
Molly's family was devout and it had its influence on her.  My
parents, on the other hand, hadn't been to church since their
confirmations.  I hadn't even been christened.  When I became a
teenager religion gained some importance with me because I
thought it might help me decide Who I Was.  I attended enough
services to learn the liturgy, at which point I decided Who I Was
was Not A Catholic.

     As I stood there reading the sign, there was a crack of
thunder and the rain began to pour.  Quickly I climbed the
cracked concrete steps and entered the building.  The sanctuary
was straight ahead.  Most of the pews were empty.  I took a seat
near the back and tried to figure out what was going on.  I had
little success because the service was conducted in Spanish.

     I saw that everyone around me was kneeling, so I pushed down
the wooden bench at my feet and knelt down, resting my forehead
on the back of the pew in front of me.  I felt like I ought to
pray but couldn't think of how to address God.  "Hiya" seemed way
too informal; "Dear Sir" was too impersonal.

     "Are you here to pray or to get out of the rain?" a teasing
voice whispered into my ear.  Startled, I lifted my head and
looked into a pair of grey-blue eyes.

     "I came to pray, but the shelter was an added benefit," I
replied, grinning.

     "I've never seen you here before," he continued in hushed
tones.

     "I've never been here before," I told him.

     "Well, that would explain it."  He smiled, revealing a
mouthful of straight white teeth.  He had a dimple in his left
cheek.  "I'm Xavier Perez.  My mother said I could meet nice
girls here so I thought I'd give it a try."

     I could probably be his mother.  He didn't seem that young--
23, maybe 24.  "That's funny, my mother told me the same thing." 
He raised an eyebrow.  "I'm Kathryn McMullen."

     Xavier grabbed my hand, pulling me onto my feet, and led me
out to the foyer.  I wanted to find out what he had on his mind. 
He was utterly charming.  His voice, his smile, and even his walk
attracted me.  His palm was cool against mine.

     "I wanted to say something kind of unholy to you, so I
thought it would be better to leave the sanctuary," he said.  He
stood close to me as I leaned back against the wall.  He was at
least four inches taller than I.  "You're the most beautiful
woman I've ever seen."

     "That's very kind of you," I said, "but firstly, I'm sure
I'm a good deal older than you.  How old are you anyhow?"

     "Twenty-two."

     Even younger than I thought.  "I'm thirty-two.  We're a
whole decade apart."

     He shrugged.  "Doesn't bother me.  What else?"

     "Well, I'm a lesbian."

     He had to think about that one for a little while.  "Are you
hungry?" he asked.  "Will you have dinner with me?"

     "Xavier."  I sighed.

     "Come on," he coaxed.  "If you're going to blow me off like
this, at least have a meal with me."  He smiled and I couldn't
deny him.

     The rain had slowed to a drizzle.  There was a diner across
the way.  Xavier grasped my hand again and we dashed across the
street, laughing as we ran.  Inside the air was warm and fragrant
from the cooking.  He chose a booth next to the front window.  I
sat across from him.

     He just looked at me a long time and then, shaking his head,
opened his menu.  "What?" I asked.

     "Nothing."  He grinned.  "You're really pretty."

     "So, what do you do?  Do you go to school?" I asked,
changing the subject.

     He had just graduated from NYU with a bachelor's in
biochemistry; he'd begin medical school in the fall.  I told him
that I was a sculptor and he was impressed even though he
admitted to knowing little about art.

     He talked--and complimented me--steadily through the meal. 
I was flattered but I didn't want to lead him on.  After all, I
was a lesbian.  Wasn't I?  Both my heart and my stomach were
fluttery.  My palms were wet, apparently draining all the fluid
from my mouth which was cotton dry.

     I never dated a man, not even when I was in high school.  A
few had been interested but gave up when they realized they
weren't getting anywhere.  It was until college I finally
admitted to one man that I though I was a lesbian.  We remained
friends and though I'd been curious about sex, we never did
anything more than kiss.

     So it was strange to be with Xavier and to feel so turned-
on.  He walked me home.  For a long while we just stood on the
steps, sometimes gazing at each other and sometimes not.  No
words passed between us until I looked him squarely in the eyes
and said as gently as possible, "You know that nothing can happen
here, right?"  He lifted his shoulders in a small, careless
shrug.  "Why are you doing this?"  Again he shrugged.  He shoved
his hands deep into the pockets of his khakis.  "I'd invite you
up, but I'm afraid of what might happen."

     "Why are you afraid?" he asked.  His eyes were dark with
intensity.

     It was my turn to shrug.  I lifted my hand to his cheek and
stroked his jaw.  "I don't want you to fall in love with me.  I
don't want to fall in love with you."  I stood on tiptoe to place
a kiss on his forehead.  "Call me tomorrow, okay?"  I dug through
my purse and found a gum wrapper on which I scribbled my phone
number.  He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up in a
delighted smile.

     I couldn't fall asleep that night.  I thought about Xavier. 
I thought about you.  It felt like betrayal.  It was betrayal. 
At one-thirty in the morning I thought about calling you.  I
hadn't really spoken to you in two weeks, and it seemed like an
eternity.

     I wondered why you hadn't called me, whether you'd found
someone better and chalked me up to a first, bad experience. 
Were you still pregnant?  Would you forgive me for being the ass
I'd been?  So many questions raced through my mind and one phone
call would have answered all of them; but instead I lay in bed,
wishing there were a warm person instead of cool silk sheets
twisted around my nude body.

     Xavier called the next day.  I invited him for dinner,
saying that I owed him.  And then I went to the drug store and,
for the first time in my life, bought a box of condoms.  I didn't
think there'd be so many varieties.  I decided on the ultra-
sensitive ones lubricated with spermicide.  I was less worried
about becoming pregnant (because I took birth control pills
religiously) than I was of catching a disease.

      I'd invited him for dinner but couldn't think of what to
cook--not that I was really thinking about food anyway.  I don't
know what captivated me so about Xavier, but he was all I thought
about while I was in the shower, shaving and shampooing and
scrubbing.  I wondered if it were different to touch a man, and
to be touched by him--would I know with my eyes closed?

     I toweled myself dry and then dabbed Chanel No. 5 on my
neck, behind my ears, on my wrists, and behind my knees.  I blow-
dried my hair and thought about putting it up in a clip but
decided to leave it loose, hanging about my shoulders, shiny and
thick and black.  I slid into a sleeveless white minidress and
then padded into the kitchen.  After much deliberation (and
surveying of my nearly empty pantry), I began making fettucine
alfredo.

     The intercom buzzed and I looked at the wall clock.  It was
already six o'clock.  I dumped the fettucine noodles into the pot
of rapidly boiling water and dashed for the door.  I pushed the
intercom button.  "Yes?"

     "It's me.  Xavier."

     "Come on up."  I pressed the door button, holding it for a
few seconds.  I was so nervous.  I opened the door and waited for
the elevator to come up.  A few minutes later it did, and out
stepped Xavier looking at least as nervous as I did.

     "Hi."  He smiled and kissed me politely on the cheek.  "I,
ah, brought some wine.  For dinner."  He handed me the brown
paper bag.

     "Great."  I smiled back at him.  "Go in.  Dinner's not quite
ready because I've kinda been goofing off."

     He laughed.  "That's all right."

     "Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

     "Just some water would be good," he replied.  "I don't
really drink alcohol."

     I peered at him.  "Then why the wine?"

     "I thought you might like it."  He grinned.

     We stood in the kitchen and talked as I prepared the alfredo
sauce.  He sat on the counter and told me how his mother, with
whom he was living until he started school again, was more than a
little curious why he'd been at mass so long and whether that
smile really had anything to do with matters ecclesiastical.  He
told me about the rest of his family, about the father who'd
abandoned them--he, his mother, and two sisters--when he was nine
years old.  The older sister ran away a year later; the younger
sister dropped out of school, in the tenth grade, when she
discovered she was pregnant.  

     "So it's just me and my mom," Xavier said.  "Isabel, the one
who got pregnant, stopped talking to our mother a few months ago
because she said mom was always criticizing her.  But it's not
true.  She just wants Isabel to go back to school and earn her
high school diploma at the very least.  She doesn't have the
skills to do anything, and she'll be dependent upon that stupid
boyfriend of hers for the rest of her life.  Or at least as long
as he'll let her before he decides he's not going to do it
anymore."

     "Your mother must be very proud of you," I said, turning off
the stove.  "I know my mother would have been proud of me if I'd
gone to NYU and was entering medical school in the fall. 
Instead, all my parents got was an artist."  I grinned.

     "Hey, you'll have to show me some of your work after
dinner," he replied.  "Then when I see an original Kate McMullen
in the MOMA--"  I laughed.  "--I can say, 'Hey, I know the woman
who did this!'"

     I took two bowls from the cupboard and filled them with
fettucine, ladling the creamy white sauce over it.  He and I sat
down at the table.

     "Do you have a girlfriend?" he asked suddenly.  "I just
wonder why you're having dinner with me, you know?"

     I laid down my fork.  "Yes, I do have a girlfriend."  He
waited for me to continue.  "Things are strained between us now. 
She's had a big change in her life recently and I'm not good with
big changes."

     "Oh."

     Xavier grew silent and, I thought, uncomfortable after that. 
After dinner he helped me wash the dishes and then I led him to
my studio.  He stood in the doorway as his eyes swept across the
room, observing the few pieces amid what was mostly garbage.  It
had been several weeks since I'd done any work and it was more
than a little messy.  "What's this one called?"  He walked over
to a small, half-carved block of stone.  His fingers traced over
the smooth lines of the figure.  "Or do you have a name for it
yet?"
     "Carpe diem.  It's a woman and..."  I gazed down at it. 
"It's a woman and her lover," I said softly.  I'd begun that one
over a month ago, the day after I went to your office and we made
up.  It had been weeks since I touched it and a fine layer of
dust coated it.

     "Hey."  He smiled tenderly at me and lifted a finger to
brush the tears from my cheeks.  "What's wrong?"

     I shook my head.  "It's nothing."

     He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, and for
that moment nothing was wrong.  Those strong arms somehow
squeezed the pain from my heart and all I could think about was
how...nice...it was to be held that way.  His chest lifted and
fell with each long, deep breath he took; I could feel his heart
thumping in his chest against my cheek.

     And then I was kissing him, the same way I'd kissed every
woman I'd ever loved.  My hands pulled his shirt out of his pants
and slipped underneath to explore the soft skin of his abdomen
and chest.  He was smooth and hairless.  He lifted me in his arms
and murmured, "Where's the bedroom?"

     "That-a-way."  I grinned and pointed out the door, to the
right.

     He laid down on the bed with me on top and kissed me eagerly
as his hands caressed my back.  There was some shuffling as shoes
were kicked off.  I felt his penis began to harden beneath me.  I
sat up, straddling the tops of his thighs, and smiled at him. 
"My curiosity is getting the best of me.  I've never had a good
look at a...what do you call it, anyway?" I asked, indicating his
groin.

     "I'm a medical man.  I call it a penis."  He grinned.

     "Penis it is.  Like I said, I've not had much experience
with one, so I was wondering:  may I?"  He nodded and I undid his
belt, unbuttoned and unzipped to reveal his navy paisley cotton
boxer shorts.  "Classy," I remarked.  He lifted his hips from the
bed and I pulled his pants down and off.  His erection was very
evident.  I felt like I was unveiling a new work of art as I
began to tug his boxers off.

     "Wow."  

     Jen had realistic dildos but nothing she owned really quite
compared.  I didn't really know penises from beans but Xavier's
seemed quite nice.  It was circumcised, I noticed, and it didn't
look like anything I should have been afraid to have prodding its
way inside me.  Slowly, gingerly, I wrapped my hand around it. 
He inhaled sharply at my touch.

     "You don't have to be so gentle," he said.  "You're not
going to break it."  I laughed and he smiled.

     "Well, let's get a condom on that thing and get to it," I
said.  I crawled over to the nightstand and opened the top
drawer.

     "Hey, what else do you have in there?" he asked, peering
over my shoulder.  He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it.

     "Nothing you're going to see on our second date," I said,
pulling out the box of condoms.  I opened it and pulled out a
strip of them and pulled one off the end.

     "Does that mean there's going to be a third date?" he asked.

     "We'll see."  I turned back to him and held out the condom. 
"I take it you know what to do with this, because I sure as hell
don't."

     Xavier chuckled and took it from me.  He ripped open the
silver foil package and placed the condom over the head of his
erect penis and slowly rolled it over the length of the shaft. 
"There."

     I pulled off the dress over my head and knelt next to him in
my bra and panties.  He grabbed me around the waist and gently
pushed me back onto the bed and stood over me on his hands and
knees.  He leaned down to kiss my eyelids, my nose, my lips, and
my neck as one hand unfastened the clasp on the front of my bra. 
Brushing the garment to the side, he lowered his head to the
right one and teased the nipple, pulling it with his lips.  He
traced the areola with the tip of his tongue before flattening
his tongue and giving my breast a hearty lick.

     He kissed the other breast before moving down my stomach to
my navel, which he circled with his tongue, to the top of my
panties.  His head moved down to my crotch but rather than remove
my panties, he pushed the fabric to the side.  He looked up at
me.  "You're shaved," he said, stating the obvious.

     "Surprise!" I said, grinning.  

     His head went down again and he went straight for my
clitoris, manipulating it with his lips.  All those biology
classes paid off well, I thought as I ground my hips against his
face.  I clutched the sheets between my fingers as I felt myself
near orgasm.  "Xavier, fuck me now."

     He was happy to oblige.  He slid my panties off and laid
over me, trying not to put too much of his weight on me.  I felt
the head of his penis at the entrance of my vagina; with one
solid push he was all the way in.  I threw my arms around him,
clutching him tightly, my fingernails pressing into his back.

     "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his faced etched with concern.

     "No," I murmured.  "No, it feels wonderful," I said
honestly.

     Rhythmically he stroked his penis in and out of me.  I tried
to stimulate my clitoris with one hand.  It became more difficult
as the pace quickened but by then it didn't matter anyway.  I
knew that I would orgasm.

     "Yes, dear God, yes!"  My hand was at the nape of his neck,
stroking him, and then my orgasm began and I grabbed a handful of
hair as my legs squeezed around his and I pushed my pelvis up,
trying to drive him deeper into me.  My other hand was crushed
between us.

     Then he came, pushing me back down as he tried to push his
penis deeper into me.  The rest of his body grew rigid and he
screamed my name before he was done.  He and I lay there, both of
us temporarily somewhere else where neither of us mattered to the
other, at least not until that blissful feeling was over.

     His head had been next to mine, face down on a pillow.  He
lifted it slowly, licking his dry lips, and looked at me.  "That
was..."  I nodded.  He withdrew his penis from my vagina and
rolled over onto his back beside me.

     "You want to know something funny?" he asked.

     "What?"

     "This was my first time."

     "You're a liar," I said.

     He shook his head.  "Honest.  I've never done more with a
girl than kissing."  He reached for my hand and brought it to his
lips.  He laid a soft kiss in the center of my palm.  "Want to
know something funnier?"

     "What?"

     "I went through a box of condoms last night, practicing
putting them on a banana."  

     He grinned at me and I burst into laughter.  He snuggled
closer to me, laying his arm over my waist, and we both fell
asleep.