Miss: Kissing and talking is enough for Sarah

Roll 2d6+HARD(+1): 5 + 1 = 6, Miss.

You climb up a winding road through the hills toward Mary's house. In the dark, it's a little more exciting. Sarah's up front with you, her hand on your thigh, squeezing a little when the car takes a tight curve.

Shasta's in back with the bag of takeout dinner for Mary and maybe Brian if he's back from his handyman trip to Mandy's. Shasta and Sarah are sure that Mom and Dad must have a standing agreement for fucking around, after the circumstances for Brian's hospital trip -- breaking his leg by falling out of his truck cab onto a concrete garage floor after his dispatcher Patty was giving him an informal and very oral welcome home. And "Dad broke his leg when some lady at his work was sucking his cock" had been barely worth a mention. Brian had looked bashful and Mary had laughed. Sarah's even more sure after you confirmed her suspicion that the cloud of fruity body wash scent around you meant that you and her mother Mary had had sex together before you came down to pick up Sarah and her sister.

Your lips tingle from Sarah's intense kissing in the ladies' room before you got rolling. Part of today's chores had been helping Mary at the laundromat, since her washer had broken before Mary had finished washing Sarah and Shasta's dirty laundry from college. That's how you know that Shasta has Wonder Woman and Supergirl underwear, and Sarah has pastel cotton knits. Your mouth waters, remembering the scent of Shasta's panties before you sprayed them with prewash and put them in the front-loading washer along with Sarah's and Mary's.

"So how long have you worked at the hospital?" Shasta asks. Her cell data had cut out at the foot of the hills, and she'd lost touch with Brett before that, so her restless attention fixed on you.

"Fifteen years, last New Year's Eve," you say. Maggie had arranged a party for you. It was the first time you'd tasted Scotch that tasted good. Maggie's choice, of course. You still had half the bottle at home. "I worked Emergency, then Community Outreach, then Health Education, then Surgery, but not very long there. Twelve years as a floor nurse. Inpatient chemotherapy. Surgical recovery. That's where I met your mom and dad."

When you'd started, Jillian had gone to kindergarten and afternoon daycare at the hospital's co-op, and then public school with extended day sports and art sessions. You and Vincent had talked about having you take early retirement to travel more. And mere days ago your life had been upended by Mary Forbes, apostle of Sappho, evangelist of lesbianism, bringer of joy to women, and to men, now and then, while yet cleaving to her husband, mostly. You feel an ache inside, a craving to bury your face in pussy. The ones you know, Mary, Julie, Maggie, Brenda. The ones you don't, Sarah and Shasta. Sarah squeezes your thigh. Your labia swell. Your vulva weeps.

You clear your throat. "After I met your mom, I was thinking that it was time to try something different." Gina's **** picture of you with a faceful of Nurse June Phillips' red-haired pussy. Your signed confession in Maggie's locked file cabinet. Gina's resignation. Maggie welcoming you to the family of women-loving-women at the hospital.

Up ahead in the dark, there's a gleam of multicolored reflectors by the roadside.

"That's it, that's it!" Sarah says, pointing.

You slow down and carefully take the sloping driveway up the the broad paved apron in front of Mary and Brian's double-wide manufactured home. Mary's car is there. The pick-up must be Brian's, and the beat-up old sedan, maybe Brett's.

You pull over and park off to one side, where you won't have any trouble turning around. You engage the parking brake and turn the engine off. The courtesy light comes on. Sarah takes her hand off your thigh and you look at each other. Sarah nods and turns round to her sister in back.

"Shasta, you go on ahead," Sarah says. "I don't know if Gloria is staying and I wanted to ask her a couple of things."

"Sure thing," Shasta says. "If I don't see you, thanks for the ride!"

The door slams behind her and she walks up to the little deck by the front door. Shasta knocks, then listens, then opens the door herself and disappears into the house.

Sarah laughs. "She's so much happier after Brett called her back."

"Mm-hm," you say.

The courtesy light blinks off. Sarah takes off her seatbelt and leans toward you. She kisses you, leans back, and takes off your seatbelt.

There's a lot of kissing. The windows are fogged over by the time Sarah takes a breath. She leans back into her seat and takes your hand in hers.

"Tell me about sex with women, Gloria," she says.

"I want it every day," you confess. "It's beautiful. Magical. Delicious. It's a rebirth, sexually. A whole new world of desire. And my husband, Vincent -- I want him more, now, not less. I was with your mother today to thank her."

"Between her legs?" Sarah asks.

"Yes, Sarah," you say, "We spent the day together running errands and talking, and after we put the laundry away, I made your mother come on my tongue."

Oh hon. Gloria, yes. Take me to Heaven.

You sit quietly with Sarah in the car in front of Mary's place. How long has it been?

Sarah squeezes your hand.

"If I want to talk with you, Gloria," she says. "If I want to talk about tonight, or about sex, or I don't know, whether my mom is a crazy nympho, can I give you a call, a text or something?"

"Yes, Sarah," you say.

"Or about that hospital volunteer thing you mentioned, maybe?" Sarah adds.

"Sure," you say. "My phone might go to messages if I'm busy, or asleep. But call me."

"Can I get a hug?" Sarah asks.

"Come here," you say.

You twist toward each other in the front seat. You embrace Mary's daughter, holding her gently until she pulls away.

"You want to come in for a minute?" Sarah asks.

"That's all right," you say. "Maybe I'll head home after I get the windows defogged."

Sarah laughs out loud. "I guess we did a number on them with all the heavy breathing. How long have we been sitting here?"

"I wasn't paying attention to the clock," you say.

"Thank you so much, Gloria," Sarah tells you. She gives your hand a squeeze before she gets out and closes the door.

You're relieved, a bit, that kissing and holding hands was as far as things went with Sarah. You talk regularly with Jillian, and one of the points that she was impressed by in one of her classes, was that although rules could be written with fairness in mind, power always had its say.

"It's like this, Mom," Jillian had said, "All these rules, these codes of conduct? Part of the problem is that even if they're written with the same expectations for everyone, they're not enforced that way. And a bunch of these guys, you know? They don't understand that they're getting away with shit because nobody wants to rock their boat, and because nobody wants to rock their boat, they never get a reality check. I bet, you know, you're a senior nurse, a supervisor? They're gonna come down extra hard on you if you cross a line, because if someone reports it? If they're honest they're gonna figure it's a terrible pattern. And when these guys go from less powerful positions to more powerful ones, nobody tells them they gotta quit that shit that suddenly no one checks them on. And worse, sometimes, dude gets a thrill out of crossing that line on purpose and getting away with it. Fucking proof you have power is that you can **** it."

Except that Maggie had saved you from what could have been exactly the fate Jillian had prescribed, when Mary had kindled a madness in you and you had eaten your fill of Nurse June's delicious pussy until she fainted.

Maggie saved you and threw Gina under the bus. Margaret Baxter, Nursing Director. It's good to be Queen, and none may trifle with the Queen's own.

That's you, now. You imagine yourself and Julie Paul as Queen Maggie's special assistants, ready at a moment's notice to kneel in front of her chair when she spreads her knees and scoots forward on the seat.

You roll your window down and watch Sarah as she walks up to the front door, wrapped up again in her barn coat over the lumberjack shirt and beat-up jeans. Seeing her in motion, her legs working as she climbs the few steps up to the porch, gives you another pang of sexual hunger. Still hungry, even after you had satisfied Mary. The last you'd seen of Sarah and Shasta's mother was how you left her, asleep, nude, lying on her back, her knees open and her vulva moist and swollen under her brown-haired mound. Had her husband Brian found her that way? Had Brett?

Sarah knocks and tries the door, but it doesn't open for her. She moves along the porch to look in the front window. After a few moments of searching glances, she stiffens and stares. And stares. And stares.

You have 4 XP, +1 Hard, +1 Hot, +0 Cool, -1 Control, Lesbian, and Truth.

You're on break from your work at the hospital, trying to decide whether you want to transfer from floor nursing to the Birthing Center, the community medical outreach bus, or to a junior nursing internship program. You've promised to talk to Sarah more if she has questions about sex or hospital work or her mom or this evening.

Something's up. Do you act or wait?