Fifth Avenue Dreaming Ch. 05

"My first time with a woman was in Berlin. BERLIN!"

I have to shout to be heard above the wailing, trumpeting band.

I'm sitting with Pearl and her two friends, Rosa and Velma, at a bar in Greenwich village called The Hot Sax. Right now, a four-piece ensemble is blasting out a frantic Coltrane number from the stage. It's a small, crowded venue, but about forty people have managed to squeeze onto the dance floor, bopping and twirling in time with the beat, working themselves into a frenzy.

"What on earth were you doing in Berlin, of all places?" Rosa shouts back.

"I went there with my high school boyfriend, Robbie! The summer after graduation! Yeah, Robbie. He was my boyfriend back then!"

Velma listens with a faraway, dreamy kind of smile. She's black, like most people in The Hot Sax, and wears her hair sleek and angular down to her chin. When it catches the light, there's a hint of deep purple. Her eye make-up is artistic and dramatic - a turquoise eye shadow and black liner that flicks up at the corners, and coral colored lipstick. Rosa, who I guess might be Italian or Spanish, has long, dark hair tied back in a thick braid with loose tendrils framing her face. She leans forward and listens with a rapt hunger, rarely blinking, her hair becoming wilder with every movement.

"Robbie's uncle was a serviceman in the American sector after the war," I continue. "Uncle Eugene. EUGENE!"

Mercifully, at this point, the band transitions into a much softer Bossa Nova number. I put my hand to my mouth, embarrassed by how loudly I'd been forced to yell during that last number.

"That's better. Anyway. Uncle Eugene. And he told Robbie all these stories about Berlin before the war. How it was this hotbed of music and dancing and entertainment, with cabarets showing all night. Real modern, racy stuff. But of course it was all ruined by the Nazis. Uncle Eugene said these cabarets were being revived, some of them practically in piles of rubble, and that Robbie and I should visit because the city needed money from American tourists. Robbie said we'd have a vacation to remember the rest of our lives."

"Well, it sounds like he was right about that."

"I was scared when we first got there. The war damage still looked so fresh, as if it had happened days ago. And I still kept expecting Nazis to pop out at any moment. The cabarets were crazy. Kinda grotesque, even. The way some of the performers did their make-up and danced - it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. But then I met her, and suddenly, everything felt just as Robbie said it would. Like I'd remember it for the rest of my life."

I'd never planned to tell a soul so much detail about the woman I met in Berlin. But the urgency of the jazz, the eagerness of my audience, and the beer in my veins presses me on.

* *

Walking into the jazz bar alone earlier tonight had been daunting. I've been to Greenwich Village, indeed this very street before - and not for a reason I'm exactly proud of. I'll go into that too, at some point. But tonight - as soon as my cab turned left onto Bleecker Street, all of my memories started to return, and it felt nice. The neon signs, the gloomy side streets, the frantic sounds of chatter and car horns and jazz. And this sense that the crowds of people were in constant motion, restless, searching for something, and even though I didn't know what they were searching for, I wanted to join them.

Once inside The Hot Sax, the instant closeness of the heat and the chatter and the wailing saxophone knocked me off balance. I need to find Pearl, and I need a drink, I thought as I shrugged off my coat and craned my neck, hoping to see her familiar face among the tightly packed tables.

Then I felt a hand on my wrist.

It was her.

Her clothes were the most conservative I'd seen on her so far. She was almost wearing something I'd wear - a navy blouse tucked into a wood tweed skirt with matching jacket - but she somehow manages to make it fashionable. Her jacket hung off her shoulders, and she finished it all off with a paisley silk scarf.

We hugged tightly, but briefly, like old friends, and then she introduced me to Velma and Rosa.

I was shy at first. I let Pearl, Velma and Rosa talk amongst themselves. Every so often, one of them would shoot me a question, trying to draw me into the conversation. Had I had a busy day? Did I like Stan Getz? Was I planning to get out of the city for Christmas? And I'd answer as concisely as possible ("yes, yes, and maybe.")

After a while, Pearl had started to laugh, "are you feeling shy, Alice?" she asked directly. My cheeks burned. The conversation moved on, and then I felt a warm hand on my arm once again.

"Come to the restroom with me," said Pearl.

As we stood side by side fixing our make-up, she glanced behind to check the cubicles were empty, and then said: "You may be interested to know, Velma's like us."

My eyes widened. Pearl nodded. "And she doesn't talk to her family because of it, so now Rosa and I are her family. And Rosa - she's not quite like us, but she's honestly the freest spirit I know. There's no need to be so bashful in front of them."

She clicked the cap back on her lipstick, and then turned her attention from my reflection to me. "They know about me, of course, but I haven't told them a single thing about you. I just let them believe we met at college."

"Hang on - I didn't even go to college!" I called after Pearl as she turned and headed back out to the bar.

When I arrived back at the table, I couldn't help but sneak a glance at Velma, seeing her in a different light since Pearl's revelation. When she saw me looking, she smiled her dreamy smile, but I still got a little jolt from being caught looking. I realised how rude I'd been by not asking Velma and Rosa any questions about themselves.

I cleared my throat, "I love your hair," I said to Velma, "I've never seen that color before. How did you get it to go like that?"

She smiled conspiratorially and said, "it's a wig. I have dozens of them. I work in the theatre, you see."

"Oh! Costume department, or...?"

"I'm actually an actress. Off-broadway, mainly."

"Anything I might have seen?" I asked, knowing full well that I haven't seen a single off-broadway show.

"I don't know if it's likely you saw it, because it was small, but a couple of years ago I played Blanche DuBois in an all-black production of A Streetcar Named Desire. It was on at The Ivy Playhouse for eight weeks."

She looked so proud when she said this, that I had to respond with "wow! That must have been incredible," even though I had very little idea of who Blanche DuBois was. "I know Streetcar Named Desire is supposed to be an extremely powerful play." I parrotted the only thing I've ever heard about it.

"Oh it is," Velma's eyes were shining, "I'll see if it's playing anywhere at the moment, and if it is, I'll take you to go see it sometime!"

At these words, I felt something shift inside me. It was a great feeling, but I didn't have time to figure out why exactly, because Rosa took my sudden willingness to talk in longer sentences as a cue to start quizzing me. How did I know Pearl, really? It wasn't from college, was it? She knew when Pearl was lying. What was going on?

"Pearl and I..." I looked to Pearl. She remained impassive

"Yes?" Rosa leaned in. I must have let the silence drag on one second too long, because Rosa slapped her thigh and said "I knew there was something she wasn't telling us. Come on doll, dish the dirt! We haven't been able to get a shred of gossip from her. What exactly is going on?"

"There really isn't anything going on."

"Yeah, yeah. But, you're not a straight Kate."

"A what?" I laughed

"You know, one of them," Rosa tilted her head to the side, presumably to indicate people outside Greenwich Village. "Come on, what's your vice? It's gotta be something subversive. I reckon you're either a lesbian or a commie. And I don't think khaki's your color."

I let out a shriek of laughter, not having a clue what to say, but luckily Velma came to my rescue.

"What would you know about it?" she teased

"Hey, I've dabbled!"

"In lesbianism or communism?" Pearl asked dryly.

Rosa fluttered her eyelashes, "both, of course."

"But it's not for you?" I asked, "the first one, I mean."

"Lesbianism? Eh, sure. I just don't have the same enthusiasm for it as some people," she pointed an accusing finger first at Pearl, then Velma. I laughed - relieved to have some of the heat taken off me, and giddy at the frankness of our conversation.

"So," Velma said to me, "you've not been with a woman?"

"I... have."

"And you're like Rosa? Not much enthusiasm for it?"

For a moment, Velma and I locked eyes. Hers were dark and deep, like looking into the night sky. Not the New York night, the kind you get in places like rural Connecticut, that make you go dizzy as you adjust to another world.

She already knew my answer. "No, I had enthusiasm. HAVE enthusiasm."

Velma nodded thoughtfully. That's when the music picked up, and the band started blasting Coltrane at a million beats per minute. Rosa clapped her hands, and shouted to compete with the song:

"Then we need to hear the story of your first time!"

"First time...?"

"With a woman! There must have been a first time, right? Perhaps even a second time?" Rosa leaned in and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh no - there's really nothing - I shouldn't."

"Come on! We've all told ours!" Her voice rose as the music crescendoed.

"When?"

"Before we met you, of course. But we're all bored with ourselves now! We want to hear about YOU."

Velma and Pearl joined in. They wanted to hear it, too. So after a lot of protesting, a lot of laughter, and a lot of shouting over each other, I gave in, and began my story of Berlin, the cabaret, and Cherry Red.

* *

"On our second night in Berlin, we ended up at this astonishing place called Der Schöne Verlies. That means 'The Beautiful Dungeon' in German, and it describes the place to a tee. It was squashed between a butcher's and a green grocer's. Nothing to look at from the outside. But when you went in, it was like you'd fallen asleep and woken up in a dream. It was this labyrinth of booths and alcoves just bursting with color and noise. Everyone was dressed-up to the nines, and so friendly. Right at the back, there were the stairs leading down to the cellar, and that's where the cabaret was. And that's where I saw Cherry for the first time."

"Cherry?" Pearl says with a screwed up face, as if I'd said something distasteful.

"Uh-huh. Cherry Red."

Pearl rolls her eyes. "That was never her real name."

"Probably not, no."

"Then what was?"

"I don't know. I only ever knew her as Cherry Red."

Pearl sits back with a smile, as though vindicated or something. I don't know what's gotten into her all of a sudden. Perhaps she's showing off in front of her friends. I'm hopeful that this new attitude is a sign that we've crossed successfully from clandestine lovers to ordinary friends. I guess I'll try ragging on her at some point, see how that goes. Thankfully, her catty comments and huffy demeanor are offset by Velma and Rosa, who are polite and curious.

"I think Cherry Red sounds fantastic. Like a character in a play," says Velma.

"She sounds like a character, alright," grins Rosa, lightly tapping my knee.

I take a sip of beer, and at that moment, my mood soars. Michael knows I'm here, and for the first time since that night in Eddie Fontaine's, I'm not feeling ashamed and guilty, I'm just an ordinary woman having drinks with a few girlfriends, and telling a story from my distant past.

Pearl says, "So, aside from being named after a lipstick shade, what was so special about this Cherry Red?"

"She came onto the stage looking like the brightest, most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, with this deep red corset and hair and lipstick to match. She was looking out into the audience with her hands on her hips. I was willing her to look in my direction, but she didn't. Then, a second woman came on stage, in the same outfit, only a gold corset instead of a red one, and they both wore black tutus. The compère was this real funny guy. Pretty, too, with slicked back hair and long eyelashes. He'd rib on the American and British soldiers in German, and then laugh about how they didn't understand whatever remark or insult he'd thrown at them - all in good humor. The soldiers loved it. But he'd just as easily speak in English if he wanted to. About half the show was in English I'd say, which was just as well because my German wasn't great. He introduced this pair of beautiful women as 'Cherry Red and Honey Hemlock: the lewd, the daring, the subversive Schlauen Sapphistinne'. I had no idea what schlauen Sapphistinnen meant then."

"I only know what half of that means now," says Rosa.

"Schlaue means clever, or cunning. So it's pretty much 'cunning lesbians'."

Pearl makes a sound which I ignore, but Rosa cackles generously. "This story's getting better by the second."

"It started off with them dancing in the normal burlesque style. It was lively, in time with the brass band playing chaotic circus music, all tubas and trombones. They were both brilliant. Halfway through the routine, Honey produces this top hat, and they start doing magic tricks. Honey pulls a white plush cat out of the hat, Cherry has a red feather in her hair which she turns into a bunch of flowers, and gives to Honey. And other things too. One trick after another, all so quick. And the music's getting crazier.

Then the next thing you know, Honey's peering down Cherry's tutu, as though she's expecting to find a cat or a bunch of flowers down there. They're playing to the audience - Honey curious, Cherry pretending to be all indignant. She bats Honey away, but instead of backing down, Honey suddenly reaches INSIDE Cherry's skirt - and starts pulling out reams and reams of handkerchiefs. You know, the usual trick. But then, before she gets to the end, they seem to get stuck. Honey looks confused - really hamming it up, shrugging at the audience, scratching her head, and tugging and tugging, but to no avail. Cherry has her hands on her hips, and she looks out into the audience with this self-satisfied smile on her face, like she knows something Honey doesn't. And I swear, there was a moment just then that she did look directly at me. The cellar was intimate. There was only about twenty people in the audience. And it felt for a moment like-"

"Like you were the only two people in the room?" says Pearl, in a tone that, as far as tonight goes, is uncharacteristically sincere.

"Yeah. Like we were the only two people in the room. For like a second. Then, next thing you know, Honey performs a final tug, and out pops this shiny pink thing from under the waist band of Cherry's tutu. The handkerchiefs were tied onto the end of a goddam dildo."

Velma and Rosa squeal, and Velma puts her hands to her mouth. Pearl rolls her eyes, but even she's hiding a smile.

"I had no idea what it was at the time! But everyone else in the audience, Robbie included, went absolutely wild. Well, as soon as THAT'S been revealed, they go back to their dance routine - only this time, they're doing the acrobatics with one another. And the music is absolutely mad now, all over the place, with cymbals smashing and whistles whooping. Honey does a handstand, and then spreads her legs into the splits. Cherry comes up behind her and - well," I can't help blushing uncontrollably, even with the drinks in me, "she kind of grinds up against her, simulating sex. It took me a good few seconds to figure out what was happening. I mean, I could see it, but I couldn't really believe it. It's a good thing it was dark in there, because I was blushing darker than Cherry's corset."

"I'm blushing just imagining it," says Velma.

"Then, Cherry's chasing Honey all over the stage with this dildo still protruding from the damn tutu, and Honey's pretending to try and get away. She pretends to fall over, and Cherry gets on top of her. Honey crawls away, and Cherry catches her. It's all very theatrical and graceful, still passable as a dance routine at this point, risque though it might be, but then, right near the end - boom! The lights cut out. I thought it was a real powercut at first - but then, click! A spotlight appears right in the middle of the stage, illuminating Cherry and Honey - and they're kissing."

"With tongues?" Rosa says urgently.

"Of course!"

"How scandalous," Pearl says flatly.

"Well, it was!"

"So, how did two burlesque dancers kissing on stage become one burlesque dancer kissing innocent young Alice Carter?" asks Pearl.

"Yeah," Rosa joins in, "that's the bit we REALLY want to know."

I hesitate. There are things that happened in Berlin that I know I should never, ever talk about, but it's going to be hard to tell my story without alluding to them.

"Cherry's dance partner, Honey, had a girlfriend."

All three women are silent

"After the performance, it was Robbie who walked up to Cherry and introduced himself. I wouldn't have had the guts, but he was always so friendly and winsome, you know? He offered to buy her a drink, she said yes, and then she came and sat with us."

"She just came out with it straight away, that Honey had a girlfriend?"

"Well - no. Honey was sitting at a little table across the room with a really beautiful blonde woman. Cherry said 'slavic' when I commented on her beauty. But she didn't say it in a kind way, she kind of spat it, like it was a dirty word. She kept glancing over at Honey and this beautiful woman. The woman kept tipping her head back and laughing. She moved like a dancer herself. I could have pictured her doing ballet. Her hair looked like it would make the sound of tinsel if she shook it.

Robbie asked Cherry outright, "why do you keep looking at them?"

Cherry kind of sighed, as if she knew she was gonna tell us something she shouldn't. We'd been drinking a bit by then, and she'd kind of loosened up even though she didn't know either of us. And then she said these words which I'll never forget: "she's going to fall in love, and she's going to get us all killed."

"What?" Rosa almost shrieked.

"Yeah, right? I was totally baffled. Who was going to fall in love with who, for a start? My brain was incapable of joining the dots. It was trying to reach for a faceless, unnamed man, even with both women in question right there in front of me, even when I'd just witnessed the performance and kiss between Honey and Cherry. But besides that, get us all killed? Why? How?"

Pearl, Velma and Rosa stare back at me, all stock still, their eyes wide in identical expressions of anticipation. They look like the three stooges. I can't help but laugh, though in my stomach, I feel an ache of guilt. I know I shouldn't be giving all this away, especially the names, and especially the visual description of the blonde woman - whose name was supposedly Liesel, but also something else.

Still. All that was a decade ago. Why would these three modern Manhattan women care about ancient history on another continent? Who are they going to tell?

"So, explain," said Velma, "why did Cherry say that?"

"Berlin was a dangerous place then. Well, it still is. You know, divided. West and East. Hedonists and communists. There was so much going on behind closed doors that I couldn't even begin to comprehend."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with the women?"

"Don't you see?" said Rosa, "Cherry thought the Slavic woman was a spy!"

"No!" said Velma, "she wasn't, was she?"

I glance at Pearl, who's strangely quiet, and her expression brings me back to my senses.

"No," I say, "Cherry was just being paranoid. And you can't blame her, with everything that poor city went through. But, the point of the story is: she introduced me to the idea of two women being in love."

Rosa and Velma exchange a look of glee. "And?" says Rosa, "what did you say back?"

"I, making myself sound like a total idiot, started to say exactly what was on my mind: 'Who? Who is Honey Hemlock going to fall in love with?' Cherry and Robbie both looked at me like I was crazy.

"The woman she's talking to, Alice." Robbie said this gently, but firmly, as if he were finally revealing a truth to me that he'd always kept hidden.

That's when I finally started connecting the dots. Perhaps the risque, lesbian performance wasn't just a performance, after all. And if that was true of Honey, then did that mean...?

I looked at Cherry. She looked at Robbie. Robbie looked at me. There was something we were all starting to recognise in one another, that we didn't dare say. Robbie and I were still supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend at this point, for a start. There was always something different about him, something different about the two of us together, but I never really knew what it was. But with Cherry's red lips, the swell of her cleavage, the fact that I had such a physical response whenever she looked at me - I couldn't deny it. And with the drinks flowing, the surreal magic of the cabaret, and being thousands of miles from home, I didn't want to.

We went back the next night, and the night after that. Cherry introduced us to the compère, or 'Master of Ceremonies', Günter, and he and Robbie really hit it off. Robbie became just as addicted to going back there as I did. And I could tell that he wanted to go there to see Günter. His eyes lit up when he saw him, and no one else in the room existed when they were locked in conversation. I should have been jealous - and I was - but only because Robbie seemed to get to speak to Günter more intimately and more often than I got to speak to Cherry Red.

Then, one night, when Robbie and I were waiting at the bar, I turned to him and said - slurring my words, no doubt: "you and me, we're not like other men and women, are we?" He gave me the biggest smile I'd ever seen, and said, "no Ali, I don't think we are."

Then I said, "but I do love you." And it was true. At that moment, I had never loved anyone so much. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror, into my own soul, and seeing it smiling back at me and saying "everything is okay."

I remember most of the rest of the night as a blur of color and music. I know I kept asking for a cherry in my drink, because I thought that would send some sort of seductive message, if she noticed. But, though on the other nights Cherry had been sat at our table, that night she seemed to be off doing her own thing. I kept catching glimpses of her, but then she'd disappear into a crowd, or go to the restroom or backstage or - I don't know. She was elusive. It made me want her even more. God, it was frustrating. She'd been right there, sat next to me two nights in a row, and I didn't do anything. We spoke a fair bit - not as much as Robbie and Günter, and not really spoken about ourselves, but still, we'd talked about the war, and New York, and German politics, and American TV. I'd even made her laugh once or twice. And now she seemed to be slipping through my fingers.

Then, this super sexy jazz number started playing, with a slow saxophone and a woman singing. I went to the restroom, re-applied my lipstick, and resolved to find Cherry Red.

I didn't know what I'd do when I found her - I just knew that I needed her in front of me.

It didn't take long. She was sitting at a table in the cellar with a pair of business men. With the saxophone wailing, I fixed my eyes on her, and asked if I could speak with her privately.

I had no idea what I was doing. But to my surprise, she excused herself straight away, and followed me. Did she even remember my name? She must meet a hundred different people a week.

But all I could do was tell her the truth.

I said to her: "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Schlauen Sapphistinne is the most incredible performance I've ever seen, and you've made me see women in a way I've never seen them before."

Cherry didn't look in the least bit surprised. She laughed, and said, "you're not the first woman to tell me that, Alice."

I had no idea what to say next. She was smiling, amused. She must have re-applied her lipstick since the kissing scene with Honey, because it looked as good as new.

Then she said, "and you're not the first woman to stare at my lips like that, either."

I was totally flustered. I stammered something about make-up, but she was having none of it. She just kept smiling as though she knew a secret.

I guess she did.

She put her hands on my hips, put her lips to my ear, and whispered: "come with me."

She kept eye contact with me as she drew away, and without saying a thing, took my hand, and pulled me through the crowds of people towards a door to the side of the stage. It led onto this dim and kinda drafty corridor. When the door closed and the music was gone, I was suddenly terrified. I've made a mistake, I thought. But then, Cherry took both my hands, and pulled them into her body. Then, she kissed me on the lips, and I kissed her back."

"Oh my God," says Rosa. "Alice, you're an animal!"

"But I'm not!" I laugh. "I'm really not. This was so out of character."

Pearl snorts.

"It IS," I defend myself, "and it certainly was then."

"So...?" prompts Velma gently, "you kissed her back, and...?"

I look at Velma. I'd almost forgotten she was there, she speaks so little compared to Rosa, and I suddenly feel shy continuing. Rosa is such an enthusiastic audience member that it's felt like I've been performing a sort of vaudeville act myself, but Velma brings what I'm saying back to reality. Am I really about to tell them what happened between me and Cherry Red in that dim room in the backstage at the cabaret?

Partly to build suspense, and partly because it's true, I say: "I'm gonna need another drink before I tell you the next bit. Something strong."

This is met with sounds of approval. Even Pearl looks amused, and waves a waiter over.

"Here we go," Pearl says when the waiter returns a few minutes later with a margarita, "this had better be good, Alice!"

I fiddle with the glass and raise an eyebrow. "Oh, it's good," I say, "I'm just not sure how much detail it's appropriate to go into."

"ALL the detail," Rosa demands instantly.

I look to Velma.

"I'm not as innocent as I might appear," she says, holding up a hand, "don't worry about me. I've already sat quite happily through french kissing and dildos."

"Okay." I take a sip of the cocktail and feel the warmth spread through my body. I catch Pearl's eye as I say: "I wanted her body. I know that sounds crass, but I suddenly had this overwhelming need to have all of her against me. The desire had come from nowhere, and now it was there, it was all I could think about. But, even with her lips on mine, I still couldn't believe that everything I wanted to do could possibly be allowed, that Cherry would allow it - that she could actually even want it as much as I did.

Well, that changed after a few seconds.

She put her hand on my waist, and guided me into another room. Her 'dressing room', she told me, but it was really just a messy cloakroom with clothes and bags everywhere. She obviously shared it with the other girls. There was a washroom at the back which just had a beaded curtain instead of a door. The main room was dimly lit with a bare bulb. There was nowhere that looked comfortable, but Cherry didn't seem to mind. She was focussed on me. She took charge. Of course, she had to. I didn't know what I was doing. Well, my brain didn't. I guess it turned out my body did.

After kissing me gently for a few moments with our bodies pressed closely together, she stood back, and let me look at her. She knew how she looked in that deep red corset, her breasts spilling over the top, her sultry make-up, hair cascading over her shoulders - my God"

I take another sip of margarita.

"She was gorgeous." I am blushing now, trying to get a grip on myself. "It would have made me nervous if I'd been thinking straight. But luckily, I wasn't.

As I say, there was nowhere comfortable to sit down, but hanging on one of the hooks was this huge fur coat, presumably hers, because she picked it up and laid it down on the floor. Perhaps I said something, or looked hesitant, because she whispered in my ear "don't be scared."

She helped me take off my dress, and then unhooked her own corset.

I'd never seen another woman's breasts in front of me like that. It felt forbidden to look at them, but she seemed to know what I was thinking, because she laughed and said, "it's okay, you can look. Then she said," here I swallowed, "then she said, "and you can touch" and took my hand and placed it on one of her breasts.

That's when I abandoned all pretense of being whatever well-behaved, uncertain girl I was pretending to be. I knew what I wanted. When she took her hand away from mine, I left it there, on her breast, and moved it around, really letting myself feel the full shape of it - the weight and curve, the nipple. Then, I kissed her. I really kissed her, as hungrily as she had me, and then I started pulling off the rest of her clothes - the tutu, her underwear.

She pulled me down onto the fur coat with her. I wasn't even afraid someone might walk in - can you believe that? We were fully naked then, and our bodies just," I can't seem to stop blinking, and blushing, and turn away from the women's gazes, "they just seemed to join together, and - and we made love."

It's not a phrase I tend to use. Not in my head or out loud. I was trying as hard as possible not to sound vulgar, but in doing so I'd conveyed more passion than I'd intended to. I blush even harder.

"Wow," Rosa breathes.

Velma clears her throat. "Wow," she echoes.

"That's pretty steamy, Alice." Rosa nods approvingly.

It seems that no one is sure what to say for a while. I worry that I've said too much, and made them uncomfortable.

Finally, Velma says, "what happened afterwards?"

"We just put our clothes back on. It's all a bit of a blur. I don't know what became of the fur coat." I laugh grimly.

"Hopefully dry-cleaned at the first available opportunity," Pearl offers.

As the women begin to laugh, and break off into their own conversation. I excuse myself to the restroom.

I stand in front of the wash basin and run the hot water.

Pearl comes in behind me.

"Are you okay?"

I turn to look at her. "I don't know. I guess I'm a little embarrassed."

"Why?"

"Well - you know - I just told two complete strangers something very intimate. And you -"

"What about me? You don't have to be embarrassed in front of me. Sweetie, I've been with you."

It's almost a shock to be reminded of that - the woman standing in front of me, in her rather conservative blouse and wool suit, is the same woman who held me and tasted me while I trembled in her arms. She's the same woman who seemed so thoughtful and interesting the first time we had a drink together alone, and the same woman I saw standing across the room in one of the fanciest restaurants in town, who wore an elegant green dress and diamonds, and behaved so charmingly toward me and the other guests. She's also the same woman who's been rolling her eyes and making sarcastic comments at me all night.

"Well, other people have stories of their first times being with someone they've known for years, or someone they're married to. I knew nothing about Cherry Red. I didn't even know her real name! And I didn't really care. It was her body I wanted. I know Rosa was joking when she called me an animal, but at the moment that's kind of how I feel."

Pearl takes me in her arms. "There's nothing wrong with wanting someone's body."

"I know that. But don't you think there should be more to it?"

Pearl rocks me in her arms, and I let her.

"Don't you feel there's more to it when you're with me?"

"I don't know. Sometimes. But it doesn't matter because we're not doing that anymore."

"Uh-huh," says Pearl, "we're just friends now."

Pearl keeps swaying, and it's almost as if we're slow dancing to a silent song. After a moment I say: "is that why you've been acting like such a jackass tonight? Because we're friends?"

Pearl pulls away so she can look at me, "huh? A jackass? What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean," I laugh so she doesn't think I'm really mad. "All your little comments during my story. At one point you were practically scoffing."

"I did not scoff."

"Cherry Red, what did she do that's so special, aside from being named after a lipstick shade?" I manage to mimic her accent so well that I make myself laugh.

"Well, at least you find yourself funny," says Pearl. Then she says, "I guess I was a little jealous."

"Well, you shouldn't be."

"Oh, I know that. It's just that hearing you talk about meeting someone for the first time, and falling for them - it just reminded me how it's never a story that ends well for people like me. Hearing you talk about Cherry Red reminded me that I'm just another person to you, like her. One day I'll be someone from your past. It's marriages, like yours and Michael's, that are past, present and future.

This time, it's me who pulls Pearl into a hug, "oh, sweetie, don't think of it like that."

"It just stings a bit. I'll get over it."

I hold Pearl in the embrace for a little longer, thinking she clearly needs it. I sway slightly with her as she did with me.

"I liked the story though," she says after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, you did?"

"I sure did." Her face is buried in my neck, but she tilts her head so she can speak into my ear. "Very much." I suddenly become aware of the shape of her body moving against mine as we sway.

I should pull away, but I don't. Instead I just murmur, "could've fooled me."

"Are you kidding?" she whispers, "picturing you and that woman together..." I hold my breath. I stop swaying, but don't let go of her. "It was amazing."

"I thought I'd made everyone uncomfortable. Everyone was strange afterwards."

"Honey, if it seemed uncomfortable, it was only because everyone enjoyed the story too much."

Still, I don't let go. My arms are around her shoulders from where I'd pulled her into me, and hers are around my waist.

"How you told it was pretty chaste, though," she continued, "I wanted to hear more."

When I don't speak, or pull out of the hug, Pearl carries on whispering into my ear. "You said your bodies joined together - what did you mean? I was imagining you were grinding together - is that what you did?" Those words being whispered directly into my ear make me physically shiver. "Were you on top, or was she?" She moves her hips into mine, and says: "I want to try that with you." I try not to mirror Pearl's hip movement, but I'm throbbing, aching for the same contact she is. The thought of hitching up our skirts, pulling aside our panties, pressing myself into her, and finding a position where we can both feel that same thrill, is all-consuming.

I remember how soft and warm it was when I did it with Cherry, how wet and firm, and how quickly we both climaxed. It takes everything I have in me to pull away from Pearl.

"Thanks, I feel better now. Shall we go back out to the girls? They'll wonder what we're getting up to out here."