Younger Than Yesterday (3 page)

 Cat inches closer and puts her arm around my shoulder. “It’s perfectly all right.” I know she’s trying to make me feel better, she probably feels sorry for me. I feel quite sorry for myself as well. It’s clear she doesn’t really know what to say. “I just—I don’t know—” she stammers and I wish I had a magic wand to erase this awkwardness with. 

I look at her, silly tears dripping down my cheeks. “I’ve been foolish, but it’s been so long since I felt something like this.” I shake my head. “You must think I’ve lost my mind.” I shoot her a small smile.

“How about a date?”

“What?” The adrenalin levels in my blood spike again.

“We’ve been pussyfooting around it all day, with all the innuendo and such. Let’s make it less awkward by making it official.” Cat treats me to one of her trademark smiles, one of the irresistible ones and, once again, I’m baffled by how much sheer want courses through my body. “I’m asking you out on a date. Tonight.”

“And that will make it less awkward?” I quip. I must be beaming goofiness. My head feels dangerously light while my stomach somersaults. That’s when it hits me that I’ve fallen victim to a crush. Maybe it’s one of those things that was bound to occur and Cat happens to be in the right place at the right time.

“Sorry to be so lesbian about it, but I need to process first.”

“At least you are one.” I grab her hand, which is still curved around my shoulders. I want to keep it there, wallow in its act of kindness. “There goes my fantasy of some woman love out in the open,” I joke, wanting to make light of the situation, contrary to how I feel inside.

“We can always come back.” She gives me a definite opening and I need to restrain myself. I want to push her down on the blanket and kiss her senseless, kiss her like I haven’t kissed anyone in my life. “Depending on how the date goes.”

“My dating skills may be a bit rusty,” I admit.

“Judging by the current state of my love life, mine aren’t exactly top-notch either.”

* * *

It turns out we’re both quite dating-challenged at this time in our lives. Dinner is a tension-laden disaster, an unpleasant affair sapping all energy from me. I sense Cat’s reticence, her doubts about all of this, and I can’t blame her. But, despite the refusal in her words and the hesitation in her voice, there’s still a flicker of hope to hold on to. I decide to put my fantasy of Cat taking control of the situation—of her seducing me—aside and take her to Fabio’s, my pub of choice. Maybe all this situation needs is for the edge to be taken off of it.

“Have you ever had feelings for a woman before?” Cat asks again. I’m not sure if a lot depends on my answer, if a definite ‘yes’ would sway her, but I can hardly lie about something so significant and obviously important to her. 

Fabio buys me some time by bringing us a jug of Limoncello. We drain a shot each and the liquor is so strong it makes my eyes water.

“The answer is no.” I have to look away, afraid to find more dismissal in her glance. “I haven’t felt anything like this for anyone in a very long time.” I figure the truth is my best ally. The Limoncello burns in my stomach. I should have actually eaten something at dinner instead of giving in to my disappointment, which only resulted in a lot of left-over pizza. I refill our glasses and find Cat’s eyes. She immediately reaches for her glass and brings it to her lips. “Perhaps I should feel foolish, but you know what?” Some liquor spills over the glass onto my fingers. “I honestly don’t.” I do a little, but more because of her lack of desire to enthusiastically reciprocate than anything else. I down my shot and lick my fingers.

“Good for you.”

What does that mean? I bear my soul to her and a generic semi-encouragement is all I get?

“The only thing I regret is spooking you out of sleeping with me.” 

My brazen words shock her into almost choking on her drink, but what else can I be but straightforward at this point?

“I should have used more subtlety.” It’s easy to say after the fact, when regret is about to clobber me senseless. “Would you have gone for that?” I need to mock myself. It helps with the bitter sting of rejection. What was I thinking, anyway? That because she’s a lesbian she’d go for it?

“I’m going to powder my nose.” Cat stands up, imitating Helen’s way of announcing she needs the toilet. “Follow me in one minute.”

It’s my turn to be flabbergasted. Adrenalin rushes through my veins. I nod eagerly and Cat heads off to the washroom. I try to count to sixty, but the prospect of Cat waiting for me in there, of her wanting me—of my dream coming true—makes it challenging. I follow in her footsteps and open the door. Before either of us can say anything, I push her into a cubicle and lock the door.

“Yes?” I ask, but I don’t wait for her reply. I can’t. Days of lusting after her have boiled down to this. I feel the familiar pulsing between my legs—familiar since a few days. If ever I wanted to kiss someone, it can’t have been with more desire than this. I press my body against her and tilt her chin up. Then I kiss her and I know it’s right. Sparks soar through me as our lips touch. Her tongue is soft and her cheeks smooth. Everything seems fluid and meant to be. If that’s what kissing a woman feels like, I wonder what I’ve been waiting for all my life.

I pull back. I need to see her face. See if the blue of her eyes has changed. See if she wants me as much as I want her.

“Where can we go?” Cat asks and reality slaps me hard in the face. I choose to ignore it for as long as I can and kiss her again. I can’t get enough of her sweet lips, the tenderness of her tongue and what it promises it can do to me. But I know I need to keep a clear head.

“We’re in no condition to drive and the house is miles away. We need a taxi.” I check my watch. “And we can’t stay in here for too long. This is rural Italy, after all.”

Cat leans in for another kiss and the sight of her lust sets my blood on fire. I hold her off, though. I need to get us out of here and back to the house, where she can ravage me the way I dreamed she would.

“Trust me. It’ll be all right.” We exit the bathroom and I wonder if Fabio or any of his patrons will notice. I wonder if I care at all. I arrange a cab and sit next to the driver in the front seat, afraid of what might happen if I’m in the back with Cat. I come to this town every summer and I’m not sure I’m ready for a lesbian scandal.

* * *

Once we’re back at the house I half-drag Cat to my room. Long lost emotions confuse my brain, but I’m sure about one thing. I want nothing more than Catherine Archer in my bed tonight. Of course, it's not my parents sleeping at the other end of the hallway, but I block out any thoughts of John and Helen. As far as I’m concerned, they’re not here. It’s just me and Cat now, and this delicious anticipation riding in my veins. I have some inkling of what to expect. I’ve seen movies and read books, and am well-endowed with a vivid imagination, but this is the real deal. This is it. 

“No, not in there,” Cat says and pulls me towards the door of her bedroom. I don’t care where we do it. It might as well be on the hallway carpet, though I’m not sure Cat would agree. I realise she’s taking a big step, while I’m overcome by desire, by this new energy that has taken hold of me, obliterating any questions of wrong or right. 

“They’re over sixty, but hardly deaf,” Cat whispers. “We’ll have to be really quiet.”

“No problem.” I reach out my hand and Cat takes it. Slowly, I inch two fingers along the inside of her arm, the touch zapping electric shocks through my flesh. That’s the last bit of control I’m able to exercise. I need her inside of me as quickly as possible. I’ve had days of foreplay, days of imagining what lies beneath the fabric of her bikini, of wondering what her skin will feel like on mine. I yank her top over her head and the sight of her stiff nipples nearly bursting through her bra makes my breath hitch in my throat. Then, at last, Cat takes charge.

She pulls me close and kisses me with new determination. I can’t press my lips close enough to hers. I need more, more of her, something to quench this thirst inside of me.

We undress each other frantically, until only panties and bras keep us from being totally naked. Cat drags me on the bed with her and I’m suddenly overcome with emotion, with raw lust mixed with the friendly affection I’ve felt for her for years.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper.

Cat responds by curling her hands around my back and undoing my bra. I quickly get rid of hers, finally allowed to gawk at her breasts without having to be sneaky about it. Our nipples touch and the softness of her skin, the way her breasts mould into mine, floors me. 

An impatient desire shimmers in Cat’s eyes as she pulls down my panties. I let her take the lead. After all, she knows what she’s doing. Her hand travels down, to the part of me that’s gone untouched too long. I can feel my wetness on her fingers and push my pelvis towards them to let her know I’m ready for whatever she has in mind.

Cat shrugs off her underwear and I don’t know where to look first. At her breasts, still young and supple, lit from the side by a sliver of moonlight, or between her legs, where tiny curls guard her pussy lips. I can’t stop myself from reaching out. I have to touch her. She’s so wet and it’s all for me. It feels like the biggest compliment I’ve had in ages.

She pushes herself up to her knees and I follow her until we face each other. While we kiss, Cat’s hands find my breasts and my nipples go as stiff as I’ve ever felt them. This is already a night of superlatives for me. I realise it’s not just about satisfying each other—although I can’t wait for that bit. It’s about the connection between us. How we stare into each other’s eyes while we discover one another’s body. How her glance seems to gut me.

Cat’s finger goes down, back between my legs. She circles my swollen clit and I can’t help but cry out.

“Shhh,” she says, but the grin on her face tells me it doesn’t matter anymore who hears what.

She looks me straight in the eyes as she pushes a finger inside of me. I catch my breath but don’t avert my gaze. I want to experience this joy, this pleasure engulfing me, together with her.

My hand wanders down to her pussy and I find her wetness. Cat twirls the fingers of her other hand into my hair and pulls me close. I fold my free hand around her neck and we find a rhythm. I mirror Cat’s movement and every time she adds a finger inside of me, I do the same. Our eyes connect whenever they can and every glimpse of the fire in her glance spurs me on. I can’t believe I’m fucking her, that she’s fucking me. I can’t believe it feels so spectacular.

I groan into Cat’s ear and she starts bucking down harder on my fingers. Her pussy seems to grab on to me, catching me inside of her. Her moans intensify and her breaths shorten and stutter as the walls of her pussy contract around me. She’s so wet and soft and magical inside.

She holds onto me, tugging at my hair while the motion of her fingers stops. Her body shudders against mine.

“Yes, oh yes,” she hisses into my ear. I can’t believe I made her come. The sensation overwhelms me, but Cat’s fingers are still in me and she pushes me down. 

“Your turn,” she says and her mouth goes straight for my clit. I scream so loud I startle myself and cover my mouth with my hand. Cat’s tongue on me like that, so close and intimate and brushing just the right spots, makes me lose all control. Her fingers go deep, while her tongue flicks over my clit and my body starts tensing up. It feels vaguely reminiscent of the orgasms I’ve been giving myself lately, alone in my room, but the power behind it, the intensity of the fire ripping through me, is a million times bigger. Grandiose seems like the right word. And obliterating, as in everything that came before.

I breathe heavily through it and Cat steps it up on all fronts. Her fingers move in and out of me quicker and her tongue laps at a furious pace until I can’t hold back any longer. The climax crashes into me from everywhere, from above me, beneath me, from inside of me. Its power leaves me speechless, close to tears. For some reason I want to hide, make myself disappear in this moment. I shield my face with my hands and lay there as Cat tenderly hugs me.

“Fuck me,” I say because I don’t have any other words. 

“I believe I just did.” Cat pushes herself up and smiles down at me. I must look like a fool to her, with my eyes all watery and an incredulous expression on my face. I dreamed of this for days, but reality has outdone fantasy. It’s not merely the orgasm, which was, after years of maybe one hesitant solo-sex session every few months, quite earth-shattering, but the emotions it has unleashed in me. I want to linger in her bed all night, all of tomorrow and the rest of the week she’s here.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” I don’t know if I should ask or not. I don’t even know if she wants me to stay. I wonder if it was as satisfying for her as it was for me. She does this all the time. I wonder if it was better than when she did it last with Jenny. I feel like an insecure teenager, which is quite unbecoming for a forty-eight-year-old woman.

“It’s your house. You can do whatever you want.”

“Really?” I take her reply as encouragement. “Because there are a few more things I’d like to try.”

* * *

I spend the next few days processing my cross-over into lesbianism. I feel more guilty now, after the fact—or in the middle of many facts—than when I was secretly day-dreaming about Cat. In the end, it all comes down to John and Helen’s presence. I can’t find a way to justify my new position in their daughter’s life, however undefined it is. It doesn’t help that Cat gets very paranoid about them and repeatedly urges me they can never find out. In a way, the secrecy ignites the sexual tension between us, but, on the other hand, it’s also a massive source of guilt.

“Looks like you’re a late-bian, then,” she says one night after I sneak into her bedroom. She has stayed very adamant about not sleeping with me in my room.

“A what?” I’m only half-listening, my brain already frazzled by the prospect of what waits for me beneath the sheets.

“A later-in-life lesbian.” She smiles at me, but, as glorious as that cheeky grin looks on her face, my eyes are drawn to her exposed chest. It’s only recently I found out that the sight of naked breasts actually makes my mouth water.