â
Certo, Cara
.'
She went to her room, lighter than air. Everything was going to be so wonderful. What an exciting adventure. Getting out of Lindsay had been the best thing. Mom and Dad. A guilty jolt reminded her she'd not called them for some time. She would do so tonight after six and give them the news.
It wasn't until well after seven that she got to the phone. Alexander answered. She could hear the delight in his voice. He was full of encouragement and enthusiasm for this new venture, but Doris kept finding obstacles. By the time she hung up she was feeling less sure. As usual her mother had succeeded in unsettling her. Earlier, she had felt like preparing a special dinner, now her appetite had gone. Quick noodles and a package of frozen pieces of red and green peppers would do.
During the meal, she did some serious thinking. What to wear for a gay bar. She wondered guiltily if the men would be in dresses.
“
Don't be silly,”
she chastised herself silently,
“they don't all want to do that sort of thing.”
A simple, white cotton dress, since Raoul had stressed how well white set off her color. The simplicity she felt would allow her to fit in anywhere. A sleeveless shirtwaister fastened with black buttons from collar to hemline. Being a summer dress it finished above the knee and draped nicely from her hips with a little flare. She threaded a black, braided silk cord through the loops and laid it on the bed.
After showering and washing her hair she looked at her dress selection critically. No, she wouldn't change her mind. Her little white sandal shoes would go well for dancing. To travel to Sancho Panza she could wear old shorts and a T-shirt. Usually, she liked to do her make up there. If she travelled on the train fully made up people stared as if she were a hooker. Tonight, with the ride from Devon, she could apply it before dressing.
Devon seemed to be coming back into her life. Did she want them to be like they were before she wondered? Was Devon really lesbian? Was she, herself a Lesbian? She didn't want to be. She didn't want that label either. She didn't want to be different from the norm. All she knew for sure was that she loved being with Sidonie. She loved how she made her feel and wanted to make her feel that way too. There was fire between them. Last time it had seemed to consume their bodies. Away from her she felt an emptiness and an ache, which sometimes seemed impossible to control.
As she finished her eyes and prepared to dress, a surge of searing, intense feeling rushed through her, centreing in her belly. Her body had a longing again for Sidonie's touch. These feelings could border on unbearable, making her feel almost sick inside, but she liked them too; taking her breath away, just from a passing thought. Although, when were her thoughts of Sidonie purely passing? She smiled.
“You face it Ten, you've fallen hopelessly and helplessly for that girl.”
Her two reigning passions were on a collision course. What would she say when she told her she'd be going away for two or three weeks? Raoul had also hinted that more bookings might accrue; in which case, she could be off again. She recalled stormy eyes, when Sidonie had been crossed. She feared those blazing eyes being turned on her, yet at the same time found that stern, almost forbidding look very attractive. It wasn't soft or feminine; not associated with womanly attributes, but it excited her. She dreaded those looks, yet loved them too. She shook her head. Really, what was she going on about? There was nothing she could achieve with this idle speculation. As to the other matter, she would just have to face up to it. She would find the right time this evening, when the mood was light.
The last thing Tenille did was dress. She'd packed up all the things she needed for the show and her date. Right on time, she heard the beep of Devon's horn. She didn't get out, but opened the trunk from inside and after stowing her gear, Tenille jumped in and they were off.
She told Devon of her conversation with her parents. Her only comment was: âShe'll get used to it. She'll have to face it sooner or later that her little girl is a âwoman grown'.
âTrue,' agreed Tenille, âbut I hate it when Mom doesn't like something. She has a way of putting me down and making me feel seven again.' She told her not to worry and to change the subject asked if she'd spoken to Mrs. Sandrelli. The rest of the journey to the Bodega. went quickly.
Raoul arrived with a new girl who had recently joined him. He had spoken about her, but this was their first meeting. She would be observing tonight. Janine had come from a dance troupe in the States, her husband being transferred to Toronto. She was obviously quite smitten by Raoul, judging from the way she kept looking at him from under lowered lids. She picked up his routines easily and Tenille judged that someone, trained in Spanish Dance from an early age, could do this. She had to learn the Flamenco style while learning the dances at the same time. Janine must be good too, since Raoul was planning to have her dance with them next week.
âAlmost time,' someone reported, returning from front side. It was a full house, Diego would be pleased. Sometimes it could get quiet in summer, with people taking off to the cottage or on trips. Tenille hoped Sidonie would be able to find a seat.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Sidonie had left in ample time, not going to be held up this evening. Taking advantage of an early finish, she'd caught up on sleep, then afterwards had gone over to the local St. Hubert's, next to the track, for a substantial dinner. She began the process of getting ready for Tenille. Black jeans, silver studded, leather belt and, keeping it simple, a white, high-necked, sleeveless T-shirt. A black leather vest over top completed the look. The dolphin tattoo on the point of her right shoulder would be visible, but on a hot night she liked to look cool ⦠even if she didn't feel it.
She hoped Tenille would like The Rose. The women there were quite a mixture. She felt this was good. The varied cross-section kept the bar interesting and the music eclectic. Romaine was competent at interspersing the oldies but goodies, with up-tempo, high energy, house music. Later in the evening she played the slower, romantic numbers.
Dancing close with Tenille. She'd be a good follower. She hoped she had what it took to be a good leader, not having had much experience. There had not been that many since Karen.
“I wonder if she and Mitch will be there?”
she pondered
. “Hope not. But I expect we'll see Trent, the
Rose
is her cruising beat. Well, she'd better not cruise in my space,”
she threatened silently:
“Or she'll get more than she bargained for. An extended trip around the world.'
Ten minutes to show time when the waiter ushered Sidonie in. He apologized for standing room only and with a shrug of his expressive shoulders, as if to say, âthat's life', let her pass through into the now familiar, poorly lit room, doing its best to suggest association with a Spanish
barrio,
nestled somewhere in the back streets. The spluttering candles and smoke filled atmosphere were genuine enough. Asked if she'd like a drink, she shook her head.
The house lights dimmed, stage lights came up; Los Flamencos took their positions, the guitarist sitting with the cantor by his side. The dancers seated themselves on the other side, with Raoul at the end. The first number was a Soleares, but instead of dancing to the singer, they maintained their places and developed complicated, contrapuntal rhythms in their palmas. It was short and effective and she found herself caught up in the mounting tension. She noted there was no fancy stuff from Tenille, but with Devon, she maintained a steady rhythm, the others creating the embellishments.
When it came to the dance she was impressed yet again by Tenille's ability. Somehow she just had that god given talent; the music seemed to resonate through her body. She really could have gone far, if only she had started earlier; so dramatic in her rippling dress, a corona of light about her undulating form. She was one hell of an exciting woman.
After the show she didn't have to wait long. Tenille appeared and the sight took her breath away. She was radiant, the flush of success still with her. What she didn't know was that the warm candescence, as if lit from within by a glowing torch, came from the prospect of being with her.
Tenille spotted her at once, close to the side exit.
Sidonie delighted in observing her as she threaded her way through the tables, noticing the heads turn to watch. Tenille's eyes had lit up when she'd seen her and the smile that came to her lips had given Sidonie's heart a most disconcerting lurch. As she reached her side, she whispered in her ear: âYou were great, Honey.'
Tenille whispered back, looking pleased, âI'm glad you enjoyed the show.'
âI enjoyed you,' she corrected gallantly. âLet me take that. I'm parked out back. Any problems getting away?'
âNo,' she lied. In fact both Raoul and Devon had been severely provoked when she announced her intention to leave. “
Oh, never mind them,”
she thought rebelliously: “
They'll get over it. I just dance with the troupe, they don't own me.”
With her free hand she guided Tenille along the passage and out to the car. Night surrounded them in a velvety blackness; a warm breeze rustling the leaves on the branches above their heads. She felt the heat of Sidonie's palm on her back. How she wanted to kiss this girl and feel her close along the whole length of her body.
In the car Sidonie broke the silence saying it wouldn't take long to get to the bar and asking if she felt like one of her special drinks.
âI must admit, I do feel nervous.'
âRelax, it's not going to be an ordeal for you.'
Tenille, reserving judgement, remained silent. She watched the stores speeding past and quickly they were at Bloor and Sherbourne, heading south, passing the revellers who clogged the roadway and sidewalks, at this time of night. The balmy evenings transformed everyone; people were talking to total strangers. Others, after a few beers, could verge on raucous, but rarely did tempers flare to the level of body blows, not in the street anyway.
âWe'll have a hard time parking, we're so late. And we may have to line up to get in.'
âTrue. It's that popular a place?'
âOh yes. Saturday night. That's when they do their best trade.' Luckily someone pulled out allowing her to reverse in without fuss. âWell, they aren't out on the street, so that's a good sign.'
âWhere are we going?'
âIt's called The Rose. Not far, just back around the corner.'
To Tenille's surprise, when she opened the door, the stairway leading up to the bar was filled with women. She didn't see any men.
âNo men here?'
âNo. This is a women's club. I didn't think you'd want to go to a mixed one, your first time,' she explained.
âYou're right. In fact it was the thought of facing the men, which was making me uncomfortable. You didn't say it would be women only, the other night.'
âOh sorry. I just never contemplated taking you anywhere else. Remiss of me. I should have explained more fully. Forgive me?' She looked Tenille directly in the eyes. Her heart melted.
âOf course. It's not such a big deal anyway. I would be happy to be going anywhere with you.'
Sidonie took her hand and they stood together on the stairs, hoping some of those already inside would feel like leaving. In the end their wait was not long, just enough time for Tenille to study the faces around her. Sidonie had been right, all ages and styles, but everyone looked excited and animated, although she noticed one woman, not part of a pair or group, aloof and unsmiling.
The women who had gotten to the bar earlier were now ready to head for home or a late night eating spot. There was a creperie not far away. Their admittance accepted, for the first time Tenille got her wrist stamped.
âWhat's that for?'
âJust if you want to go out and come back.'
She took Tenille's hand again and led her inside. In the poor light, the revolving ball above the dance floor revealed many women crammed together in a small space, moving to Bonnie Rait's, I FOUND LOVE IN THE NICK OF TIME. Tenille looked about her with interest, trying not to gawk, but she was taken aback. So many women. So much exuberant talk, laughter and shouts. Two bartenders were kept hopping. She felt exhilarated, enjoying being here; being a part of it. All those fears she'd experienced earlier â how silly.
Sidonie positioned her close to a pillar at the end of a stand up counter that flanked one side of the dance floor, separating it from the serving bar. She left, instructing her not to move and assuring her she'd be right back. When she caught the bartender's eye she ordered one Black Russian and one light beer. Waiting for the drinks she looked back at Tenille. It was difficult to see her past all the heads, but eventually she got a view and saw that she had relaxed considerably. Everything was going to be all right. She really had slipped up, not explaining she'd meant a lesbian bar. Still, all was well now. Drinks in hand, she made a sidestepping kind of progress to avoid spillage, back to the pillar. Finding a small space on the end of the counter to set down their drinks, she smiled and moved close to her side, putting her arm behind her waist. They watched the dancers on the floor. Tenille revelled in the feel of Sidonie beside her. The warmth of her body, so close, gave her delightful shivers.
The DJ was playing a popular number, THE MACARENA, so the floor was crowded. She noticed some other couples like them watching, draped about each other. She turned to Sidonie and smiled saying: âI like it here.'
Sidonie couldn't hear the words above the music; had to bend her ear closer to the lips. She repeated her words and then, to her own surprise, added a kiss to Sidonie's cheek. She had not thought of doing that, it just occurred spontaneously, so they both were as surprised as each other. Sidonie gave her an extra squeeze. Tenille felt so at ease, she leaned into her a little more. Sidonie shifted her position to be behind and put both arms around her waist. A delicious thrill ran through her as they stood like this. Sidonie began to move to the music, enjoying the feel of Tenille's butt pressed against her. The DJ merged into a new cut and she asked: âShall we?' They found a small space on the floor and began to dance to a strong sensual beat; the music throbbing through their bodies. They didn't look at each other all the time, just threw glances now and then. They let their eyes travel across the floor, observing the women, comfortable in this environment. Some danced enthusiastically, really getting into the spirit of the âCult Of Snap' number, others were more subdued, like them. Tenille felt well knit with those around her. The song ended and they drifted back to their drinks. Just as Sidonie was about to slip her arms about her woman, a voice, raised a decibel above the din, called out. She couldn't mistake it and groaned ⦠Trent.