"Almost?" Jamie’s brow arched severely.
"Hey, we’re being honest, right?" she grinned, but her grin faded when she saw the hurt in her partner’s eyes. "I would never want to be with another woman, Jamie," she insisted. "But I still notice them. I’ll always notice them," she predicted. "And I assume I’ll always have a slight physical reaction when I’m with an attractive woman. Just like you might have a reaction to being around a good-looking man."
"That’s a laugh," Jamie chided her gently. "All of the good-looking men I’m around look just like you!"
"That’s all part of my evil plan to keep you focused on me alone," Ryan laughed. "But seriously, Honey, how does this sit with you?"
"Okay, I guess," she said rather unconvincingly. "I suppose I just thought that I’d feel differently when we got together."
"No, Babe, being with a woman doesn’t erase your true self. You’re exactly who you were before you fell in love with me. You’re just discovering facets to your sexual orientation that you weren’t aware of before."
"Well, one thing I’m sure of," she said with a smile. "My orientation is firmly and irrevocably pointed in your direction!"
The golf lesson with Chip was a success for both women. Chip worked with Jamie patiently and, after a solid hour of hitting balls, her fade was significantly improved. Ryan split her time between the putting green and sitting on the ground behind Chip and Jamie, watching her intently. She loved to watch her partner swing a golf club. She particularly liked the way she twitched her hips just a bit right before she began her swing. After they were finished, Chip offered to give Ryan a few more tips on sand play. She gratefully accepted, and they spent a good half hour in the practice bunker. Jamie joined them, also offering some tips. After hitting at least 100 balls, Ryan was making real progress, but once again she had sand in places that she most definitely didn’t want it. They thanked Chip for his time and, after they made another appointment for Friday, Jamie went into the pro shop to sign the lesson chit.
"Are you going to play again this week?" Chip asked Ryan as they waited.
"I’m playing with my brother on Saturday," she replied, "but I’m not sure if Jamie and I will play again this week. I guess we could play on Friday if we have time, but we haven’t discussed it." She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping not to set foot on the course until Saturday.
"Does your brother play well?"
"He’s a lot better than me, but not as good as Jamie," she replied.
"Would you mind if I joined you if I don’t have a lesson then?"
"I’d love it, and I’m sure Conor would love a few tips, too. We’ve got a 10:45 time, so if you can make it, we’ll see you then," she said agreeably.
Chip sauntered off, and Ryan looked after him for a moment.
He’s not such a bad guy
, she thought.
He’s a little too interested in Jamie for my taste, but he does seem like a patient and knowledgeable teacher. I guess I just need to get used to guys drooling over her.
God knows I do!
It was just past one o’clock when they left the course. As the valet delivered the Boxster, Jamie asked, "Would you like to go out for a fancy dinner tomorrow night?"
"Let’s see," Ryan replied, as she looked up at the clear blue sky as if seeking divine guidance. "Dinner, you...what could possibly be wrong with that?"
"Did you bring anything elegant to wear?"
"Hmmm." She pretended to mentally review the contents of her closet, then shrugged. "Since I own nothing elegant, I guess the answer is no."
"Then turn left on the Drive. We’re going shopping, Sweetie."
Ryan looked askance, but did as she was told. They drove into Carmel and parked as soon as they found a spot. As they walked along the neat shop-lined streets, Ryan decided that she had better issue a dirt-alert. "If I take off my clothes, I promise that I’m gonna leave a pile of sand."
"At the place I’m taking you, they wouldn’t say a word if you left a pile of kitty litter in the dressing room."
"Sounds like the kind of place I can’t afford," Ryan said hesitantly.
"My treat, Babe. It’s only fair for me to pay since the clothes are not for you," she reasoned. "I’m buying them for me."
"But I thought you wanted me to get something elegant," she said with confusion.
"Oh, you’ll be wearing them, but they’re for me." Jamie’s sexy tone left Ryan no doubt that her role was to serve as eye candy for her partner.
Ryan just grinned, pleased that Jamie felt comfortable expressing her desires. When they reached the store, Jamie led the way, telling the sales woman exactly what she was looking for. Both the clerk and Jamie eyed Ryan like a prized filly, deciding what style of garment would look best on her long, lean frame. The woman left to search through her stock, and Jamie ordered Ryan into the dressing room. "Strip," she said decisively. Ryan gamely followed instructions, smirking when, true to her prediction, a sizable pile of sand wound up at her feet. She danced around, yanking at her underwear, trying to get the rest out. It was tough to tear herself away from the completely entertaining dance, but Jamie took pity on her partner and went out to intercept the sales clerk, giving Ryan a minute to collect herself.
The clerk brought three outfits of different styles, but Jamie chose only one to take into the dressing room. It was a thin silk, patterned in a rather indistinct floral print of salmon, bright blue and dusty rose. The top was close fitting with tiny spaghetti straps, coming just to the waist, while the pants, of the same fabric lined in satin, were designed to fit loosely.
Ryan had to take off her bra to try on the top and Jamie marveled at how the shape of her breasts barely changed when she removed it. "You don’t even need to wear a bra, do you?" she asked.
"Yeah, I do," she replied. "My nipples get hard when fabric brushes up against them, and it’s kind of irritating."
"Maybe to you it is," she purred, as she wrapped her arms around Ryan’s waist. "To me, it’s stimulating."
"I hope they don’t have cameras in here." Ryan’s head swiveled on her shoulders, looking in every conceivable place that a camera could be hidden.
"This isn’t K-mart, Sweetie," she said, kissing her gently. "Eeww, your lips still taste like sand." She made a little face at the discovery.
"Other than my taste, do you approve?" Ryan did a little pirouette to let her get the full effect.
Jamie spent a full minute taking in her lovely partner. The clothing fit Ryan as though it was designed especially for her. The close-fitting top captured Jamie’s attention immediately, and the flowing fabric that covered her legs made her look even taller and leaner than usual. "Very, very much," she said, as she nodded her head slowly. "Although, all I want to do is take that off you," she added seductively.
"We could just jump ahead to that part and save…"Ryan looked down at the garment, pulling it here and there to get a better look. "There’s no price tag," she said, cocking her head in question.
"It’s not that kind of place, Ryan."
"What kind of place doesn’t tell you how much stuff costs?" she asked incredulously.
"This kinda place." There was a hint of humor in her tone as Jamie helped Ryan take off the top.
Still shaking her head in disbelief, Ryan tendered a proposition. "Jamie, either I pay for this, or I buy dinner tomorrow. I can’t let you pay for everything," she said seriously.
"Well, you could, but I know you won’t, so--it’s a deal." Having come to an agreement, Jamie walked out of the dressing room, garment in hand.
When she learned the price of the outfit, Jamie quickly whipped out her American Express card. She knew that Ryan could order 25 entrees at the restaurant and not come close to the cost of the garment, so she decided to let her to pay for dinner. Ryan approached the counter just as Jamie was signing the receipt. Turning her body slightly to block the taller woman’s view, she quickly handed the form back to the clerk. As she turned to leave, Ryan stayed behind to confess that she had left a bit of a mess in the dressing room. She caught up with Jamie just as she left the store. "That was thoughtful of you," Jamie said with admiration.
"I didn’t want the next customer to get that on their feet," she replied logically.
"Nonetheless, you’re a sweetheart," she said firmly.
They continued down the street until Jamie pulled her into a vintage clothing store. Ryan looked around idly until Jamie called her over to a big rack full of leather. "Do you have a motorcycle jacket?" she asked neutrally.
"Yeah, I have that black leather baseball-style jacket," she replied.
"No, I mean a real motorcycle jacket," she said.
"Um...no," she said as she shook her head. "Don’t you think they’re kinda...butch?"
"Yep," she said agreeably as she began to pull jackets from the rack. Ryan patiently waited while Jamie decided on her four favorites. She tried each one on, waiting for Jamie’s critical appraisal. When she tried the last one on, Jamie’s eyes lit up. It was very well worn, scuffed severely on the elbows. Big shiny chrome zippers slashed across the chest and up the sleeves. The coat fit snugly against her hips but was roomy across the chest, and the sleeves were the perfect length, stopping just below her wrists. Since it was a bit more modern than the traditional style jacket, the coat did not have the big belt and buckle that most of the jackets had, but still retained the classic form. It truly did look wonderful on Ryan and, without further consultation, Jamie unzipped it and pulled it off of her. She marched over to the counter to pay for it, ignoring the $350 price tag, but Ryan snuck up behind her, spotted the tag, and practically exploded.
"How much?!" she nearly shouted.
"It’s worth it," Jamie said defiantly, as she handed the clerk her charge card.
"Not to me!" Ryan pulled the coat from the counter, fully intending to replace it on the rack.
"It’s not for you!" Jamie replied as she pulled it right back. "I want to see you in this, Ryan. Now let me have some fun!" She scowled at the grinning clerk taking in the whole scene.
"I think we need to have that talk," Ryan said through gritted teeth, then stalked out of the store.
Jamie followed behind her as she strode purposefully down the street. It was obvious that Ryan was angry—very angry, in fact. She didn’t slow down all the way to the car and, when she got in, she sat in the passenger seat rather than the driver’s side, as was her custom.
Jamie slid into the driver’s seat and took a big breath. "Ryan, please don’t be angry with me," she said in a small voice.
Ryan also took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She turned to Jamie and said, "I need a few minutes. Can we talk when we get home?"
Jamie nodded sadly and started the car. Tears were trickling down her face by the time they arrived home, and Ryan felt her stomach clench at the thought of causing her lover pain. She got out and went around to the driver’s side of the car where she opened the door and extended a hand to help her out. Jamie grasped her hand and pulled her into a rough embrace. "I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me," she sobbed into her chest.
Ryan patted her back soothingly for a few moments as her sobs grew deeper, cooing to her softly, "It’s okay, Jamie, I’m not mad. We just need to work this out."
"You are too mad," she mumbled into her shirt.
"Okay, you’re right, I am mad; but we still need to work this out. We need to talk about it, Jamie, or it’ll get worse."
"I’m the one who wanted to talk about it yesterday…and the day before," she reminded her lover. "I knew it would bother you to be down here, and I wanted to set up some ground rules."
"You’re right, Sweetheart. I should have listened to you." She bent down to look into Jamie’s eyes. "Are you mad at me for not listening to you yesterday?"
"Noooo," she said with a quavering voice.
"Okay, let’s go get something to drink and go down to the pool house. I think we need to relax a little bit." She wrapped her arm around Jamie’s waist and they went into the kitchen, where they made a big pitcher of lemonade. While Ryan placed the pitcher and some plastic mugs on a tray, Jamie ran upstairs and got some papers from her suitcase and returned to walk with Ryan to the pool house.
"You know, I read some advice on arguing once." The larger woman was calm now, and there was a twinkle in her eyes. "It said you should always fight naked, since it makes you more vulnerable and lets you see your partner in a vulnerable position, too." She plucked at her partner’s shirt by way of encouragement.
"Okay, I’m game," Jamie said, then she quickly stripped out of her clothes. She went into the bathroom to get some towels while Ryan rinsed off in the shower so she wouldn’t get sand in the Jacuzzi.
They both slipped into the hot water, both letting out moans of pleasure as they sank up to their necks. Seconds later, Ryan hopped out of the water and trotted to the bathroom. She came out and shot Jamie a shy grin, saying only, "Warm water," as she shrugged and climbed back in.
Jamie gave her an indulgent grin and said, "Can you tell me why you’re mad?"
Ryan took a long slug of her lemonade, trying to make sure she phrased her complaint properly. "I’m mad because I don’t feel in control. You do things that you think will benefit me, but you don’t ask me if I want them."
Jamie nodded slowly. "You’re right," she said softly. "That was wrong of me."
Flashing a goofy grin, Ryan tapped at Jamie’s nose with her finger. "We can’t have much of a fight if you give in so easily."
"That’s not the big issue, Ryan. The big issue is what do we do about money in general, not this little incident of today."
Ryan knew that it was important for her to understand Jamie’s point of view. "Tell me how you see the problem?"
"Okay, I’m used to a certain lifestyle. I don’t indulge in it much in Berkeley, but there is a part of me that is comfortable with money, and I like the little comforts that it brings me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I also don’t think I’d be happy if we had to live on your salary, Ryan, and I’d really rather not have to take a job this year."
"Okay, okay, I get your point. I know I make less than you’re used to, but I was pulling in $1,200 bucks a week, thanks to you. If I did that full time, and you matched that, wouldn’t that be enough for us?" Ryan knew that they could be very happy on $1,200 a week, and she honestly thought that $2,400 would provide for a lavish lifestyle.
"Is that really how you want it to be, Ryan?" she asked seriously. "Will you always want our living standard to be twice what you make? What should I do with the rest of my money?"
"You can do whatever you want with it, Jamie." Her rising voice was beginning to reveal her frustration. "I just don’t want to depend on you financially, can’t you see that?"
"Why not?!" she asked, starting to get angry again.
"Because
it’s
your
money. It’s not mine. I don’t want to feel like you keep me."
"Is that how you would
feel?" she asked, truly incredulous.
The volume of their voices, and the tension that indicated, had been rising. Ryan took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to de-escalate from argument back down to discussion. In a softer tone, she admitted, "Kinda."
"Ryan, you’ve done as much to deserve that money as I have," Jamie said clearly.
"What?! I haven’t done anything to deserve it."
"That’s my point! Neither have I! I got that money by nothing more than an accident of birth. It could have been you or me or some child from Appalachia. It was an accident. The last person in my mother’s family who really worked for money was her great-grandfather. He worked his ass off, but everyone else hasn’t had to do a thing since then, except keep an eye on it."
"Be that as it may, Jamie, it’s yours now, and I don’t want to accept it from you."
Jamie dropped her head back against her shoulders and watched the clouds drifting overhead through the glass roof. The contemplative mood lasted for several minutes without an interruption from the dark-haired woman who gazed at her placidly. Finally she lifted her head and addressed her partner, "Ryan, have you ever dreamed about winning the lottery?"