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Givers need to set limits because takers rarely do.
Irma Kurtz
Em trudged up the stairs. The elevator was out again. It was an old building, but it was rent-controlled and all Em could afford in the neighborhood. She usually sprinted up the seven floors, but after the day she’d had, she was crawling.
Starting any new job is tough, bringing new people up to speed and reassigning all your open cases to other overworked detectives is exhausting. But when your boss and the entire department’s future rest on your initial decisions, you feel the weight bearing heavily on your shoulders. All she wanted was to get home, put her feet up and relax before preparing for her date.
Em was headed for her apartment on the seventh floor when she heard a door open behind her.
“Oh, good. I caught you.”
Em recognized the voice immediately.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I let someone into your place,” Amanda continued. She was a pretty young thing, struggling to get her music career started, but had the brightest smile and a pleasant, positive attitude. She was also Em’s ‘key pal’.
“Nah, that’s why I gave you my spare key,” Em said. “Who was it? A delivery guy? I wasn’t expecting anything.”
Amanda frowned. “Uhhh ... no. She said she was your sister, so I—”
Em slapped her forehead, knocking a few locks of hair loose. “Damn! Francine is here? They weren’t supposed to arrive for another couple days. I haven’t cleaned up, bought food or made plans.”
Amanda laughed, a perky sound which floated through the air like pixies spreading fairy dust, lifting everything in its path. “Don’t worry. She said this was unplanned. I let them in, but spent time with them—just to be sure. I helped get them settled. We created a makeshift bed for Becky on the living room floor. She seemed pleased as punch to be in Manhattan. She spent most of the afternoon leaning out the window, watching the activity on the street and in the windows across the way. I was getting some popcorn for Becky, but since you’re here ...” She handed Em the package.
Em groaned, glancing at the cracked ceiling above her head. “Wonderful, a sixteen year old appreciating the men’s room in the next building. Just what I need. But all kidding aside, thanks. You’re a lifesaver. I was sure I had several days to prepare.”
“I didn’t have anything planned, so I spent the day with them. They were delightful. We had a terrific time together.” Amanda’s eyes sparkled. “They told me so many stories about you as a little girl. You’ve never revealed anything about your family, so it was wonderful getting the lowdown on you.” She winked at Em, smiling while glancing down the hall. “And it’s wonderful seeing some new faces in your life.”
Em rolled her eyes, imagining what Francine revealed but relieved at a potential crisis averted. She’d hoped to find someone to pawn them off on for a week—maybe more. Yet if they were OK where they were, she could take a few days to make arrangements.
“I hope you didn’t put yourself out. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
Amanda waved her concerns off. “Nah. Since I'm a singer, I make my own schedule.”
“Still, you’ve got to book your next performance, making arrangements, practice. It’s not fair expecting you to babysit my guests.”
“Nonsense. I have a flexible timetable and they were a delight. We had fun.”
“Still, I owe you something for all your trouble.” Em started rifling through her purse. Amanda put her hand on Em’s.
“Forget it. It’s not really a problem. I’m happy helping where I can.”
Em put her purse away. She knew how independent New Yorkers were. The biggest insult was to offer them assistance. “Well, if you ever need anything, let me know.”
Amanda smiled, turned and waved as she reentered her apartment. “Don’t worry. I will. I’ll mark it on my board as one favor owed.” Her laughter flew over her shoulders like a dozen butterflies set aflutter by a gentle breeze wafting down the corridor. Em had always been fascinated at her approach to life, seeing everything as positive, even when things were going south. She admired that perseverance. It frequently lifted her own spirits.
Em crossed to her door, rattling her keys. “I hope Francine is smart enough to lock up. New York is too dangerous to—” As she pressed her key to the lock, the door opened, revealing she’d not only left it unlocked, but unlatched.
As the door swung open, a brunette bundle of energy launched itself from the floor, targeting Em like a ravenous teenage wolverine. “Auntie Em!” Becky enveloped her in a huge hug. “Mom! Auntie Em is here.”
Becky was always a spitfire, though it was years since Em had seen her. Even as a toddler, the girl was energetic, unafraid of anything. Entering the apartment, Em spun her around in circles, her long brunette hair streaming everywhere and her bright irrepressible smile beaming amid her giggling.
“I’m glad you made it, but you could have given me a little warning.” Em hoped to express her disappointment, but Becky’s laughter and embrace overwhelmed Em’s disapproving tone. Besides, she couldn’t take her frustrations out on her niece. It was her sister-in-law she had the issue with.
“Em, it’s terrific seeing you!” Francine rushed forward like a Santa Ana wildfire overtaking the surrounding forest, setting everything ablaze. “Becky, make way and let your poor mother thank Em for all she’s doing for us.”
Becky backed up, smiling knowingly. She caught Em’s expression and giggled, knowing her mother’s traits.
“Thanks for everything. You have no idea what it was like getting out. We left almost everything behind. I grabbed Becky’s stuff, but little of mine.”
“Don’t worry,” Em assured her. “We’ll get you settled. I just wish there was time to find you somewhere to stay. You don’t want to crash in my tiny apartment, especially not while I’m away for most of the day.”
“Nonsense, we love it here! Becky can see the city, and we’re looking forward to getting to know you again.”
“No, seriously, I’m never here and—”
“I’m serious, too,” Francine warned, stepping back to confront Em. “We don’t want to burden your friends. We won’t expect much of your time, but you know your brother. We’ll both feel safer being as close to you as we can. As bad as Jeremy is, he’s terrified of you. As long as you’re around, he’d never try anything.”
Becky giggled. “He thinks you’re nuts.”
“Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t know you’re here. It’s not like he’d ever show up to shoot the breeze.”
“No, but you know what a psycho he is. He’s got a way of wheedling information out of people. If we stayed with anyone they might be in danger. If you’re nearby, we know we’re safe.”
Em sighed, realizing she was losing the argument before it had even begun. “Still ...”
“Please, Auntie Em?” Becky asked, her voice taking on the familiar high-pitched whine of all young girls pleading for something. She wrapped her arms around her Aunt and squeezed tight. “We’ll be good. You won’t even know we’re here.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” Em lied, “but you’re not ready for how I—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Francine assured her. “After years of Jeremy bad mouthing you, I wanted to get everything out on the table before we showed up. Becky and I had a long talk about your ... lifestyle, and I decided we’d be completely honest about everything.”
Em backed up, glancing at Francine as she studied her niece. “Did you? Just how much does ... everything cover?”
As they entered the living room, Em’s eyes grew wide as she saw the disarray. Luggage was stacked on top of Em’s hand-carved wooden table. Francine’s wine glass was delicately balanced on her sofa and Amanda used her expensive red leather couch cushions as a bed for Becky. There were clothes scattered about as both bags were partially unpacked. Em clutched her head while taking everything in.
Francine smiled, pleased at her own progressiveness. “I told her that nothing is off the table. Anything she wants to ask, we’ll answer.”
Em groaned, shooting her niece a worried glance. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“Oh, it definitely is,” Francine insisted. “Your brother said some terrible things about you over the years, and Becky heard the worst of it. But on the drive out, I explained how you’ve tried to help all along. I told how her father lied about you, just as he has about so much recently, but that certain details are true. So we agreed she could ask whatever she wanted so she could decide for herself.”
“I’m not convinced telling a sixteen-year-old girl—”
“It’s all right, Auntie,” Becky insisted. “I know more than you think. It’s not like when you were in school. Everyone is out now, and they talk about these things all the time. But still, I’ve got a ton of questions. It isn’t often you get to ask about specific details.”
Em groaned, walked over to her couch and put Francine’s glass on a coaster before collapsing and putting her chin in her hand. She shot Francine one last confirming glance before turning to Becky, who took a seat on the parquet floor before her. “I know I’m going to regret this, but go ahead.”
“What’s it like?”
Em cocked her head, regarding her. “What’s what like?”
“Kissing a girl,” she answered.
“You have kissed a guy before, haven’t you?” Francine asked.
Em grinned, relieved they were starting slow. She hoped the questions wouldn’t get too far afield. “Yes, despite knowing I was a lesbian since I was young, I’ve kissed guys.”
Francine leaned in. “Really? Who?”
“After I broke up with my first love, I tried to make her jealous by adopting a beard.”
“A what?” Francine asked.
“A beard, Mom. It's when a gay guy has a straight girlfriend so no one suspects he’s gay.”
“Right.” Em settled back, getting comfortable while slipping her shoes off. “Except in my case, I met a young flamer who needed protection. Since I was popular and able to defend us both, I let it be known we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Essentially, we were each other’s beards.
“But, to answer your question, it’s quite a bit different. Guys are hard, with sharp edges and scratchy bits. Girls—women actually—are soft and cuddly, with smooth curves which are wonderful for—” Em’s hand froze midway through a mid-air caress. Catching herself, she blushed and slid her hand under her leg.
“Which do you like better?” Becky asked, leaning forward to hear the response microseconds sooner.
“Definitely girls. I’ve always preferred women. Guys were just a stopgap.”
“Have you ever done it with a guy?”
Em turned and checked with Becky’s mother before responding.
“Go ahead.” Francine waved her hand theatrically. “I’m dying to know this one myself.”
“Well, since I’d broken up with my girlfriend ...”
“Broken up, or got dumped?” Becky pressed.
Em bit her lip, lowering her head slightly, but barreled ahead. “I was dumped. Hard! That’s why I wanted her to see me with a man. That’s what she did. She discarded me for a football player.”
“Ouch!” Becky opined.
“Yeah, that was my response. But anyway, since I had no one else and he’d never fooled around before, we ... got a little ... curious.”
“You didn’t?” Francine demanded. “With a gay dude?”
Em laughed, pulling her feet up beside her. “It was a bit awkward, but it wasn’t so bad. While straight sex doesn’t get my motor purring, it still feels nice. But he had trouble maintaining ...” She consulted Francine again. “Should I use the proper terms?”
“Please. It’s better she hears it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Thanks so much for that,” Em stressed, good-naturedly. “But continuing, he couldn’t maintain an erection.”
“What was his name?” Becky asked.
Em cocked her head, caught off-guard by the simple request. “Phillip. Phillip Schwartz.”
“He was gay and Jewish?” Francine asked.
“Yeah, as I said, he got picked on a lot. Though he got less flack for being Jewish than homosexual. This was western Pennsylvania, after all.”
“You know, now that you mention it, I remember him. Despite being so flamboyant, he was a cute kid.” Francine curled up on the couch beside Em, leaning an arm against the back and cradling her head as she listened. “But go on, I never heard any of these details.”
“Were you and Em in the same class in school?” Becky asked.
“Rutherford B. Hayes High,” Francine answered proudly, holding her wine up to honor its memory. “Same school, different classes. I was a year ahead of Em, and your father was another year beyond me.”
“Well, we—” Em's recollection was cut short by a knock on the door. “Damn! I forgot Lucy.”
“Lucy?” Becky asked.
“My date.” Em glanced around, trying to guesstimate how soon she could put herself together before answering the door.
“You had a date and didn’t mention it?” Francine sat up, covering her mouth as if uttering an unspeakable word. “We could have made ourselves scarce if we’d known.”
Em was already on her feet, grabbing earrings off the counter in her bedroom. She straightened her blouse, dangling them against her ears. “How do I look?”
Her sister-in-law gave her an apprising look. “Like you crawled out of a sewer grate. Here, let me freshen you up.” She pulled a brush from her bulging purse.
“But ...”
Becky leapt up with an enthusiasm only the young possess. “I’ll get it!”
As if coming out of a fog, Em leapt into action, still switching earrings. “No! She doesn’t know about you yet. Let me ... ease her into it.”
Becky spun around, torn between her Aunt’s imagined lesbian lover and meeting the real thing. “Ahh, she’ll like us once she meets us.”
Em swiveled around a pouting Becky. “I just want to ensure she doesn't freak. Not everyone takes to strangers readily.” She tried to straighten her blouse once more before throwing her hands in the air and marching to the door.
As the door opened, Lucy prepared to enter but Em edged out the door and drew it shut. Lucy, feeling cornered, stepped back. She grinned at Em’s wrinkled outfit. “Forget our date?” She stepped around, evaluating her girlfriend’s attire from different angles. “I’m not surprised. Normally you dress to kill, but lately you’ve—”
A voice responded from down the hall. “You’ve got a date?” Turning, they noticed Amanda dumping the day’s garbage down the chute. “Why didn’t you say something, Em? Go change. I’ll introduce your girlfriend to your family and keep them entertained until you’re ready.”
“Family?” Lucy’s eyebrow arched as she glanced between the two women. “You’ve got relatives here?”
“Her sister-in-law and niece,” Amanda offered, wandering over. “They’re a blast. Becky’s full of questions and Francine has a ton of dirt on our girlfriend here.”
Lucy’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected remark. “Girlfriend? Uh ... not that I’m prying, but just so I know how to react, is your neighbor an overly friendly stranger or competition?”
Em was about to respond when Amanda laughed, the sound wafting down the halls. The notes so pure and crystalline they both turned. She waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, it was just a turn of phrase. We’ve never dated. We ... help each other out. “
“We’re key pals,” Em explained. “In case we get locked out.”
“So you’re not dating ... at the moment,” Lucy clarified, arching her eyebrow. In Lucy’s defense, they were really expressive so she used them a lot for their dramatic effect. “You’re clearly not straight.”
Amanda giggled like a little school girl. “Shh! Don’t tell my daddy. He’ll be so disappointed. Not to mention my dozens of Facebook fans.”
“Excuse me. I don’t mind some healthy competition. I mean, Em dates plenty of women—some more casually than others—but I’m unsure how to catalogue you.”
Amanda flicked her wrist, shooing her concerns away. “We have no designs on each other, and I’m not scheming to steal your slot in the hierarchy, so you’re safe. I’m interested in a committed relationship. I couldn’t manage a ... situation like you’ve got.”
Lucy turned her brow on Em. “You know, now that we mention it, I wouldn’t necessarily object if you were. If the two of us joined forces in a mutual alliance, we could keep better track of our competition. You might be a handy resource in the girlfriend wars.”
Em sighed, holding her hands up. “She told you, we’re not involved, and I wasn’t planning to ask. You know my policy. You don’t shit where you eat. That goes for office romances and people you rely on. If we dated, Amanda may be inclined to snoop through the apartment whenever I’m not around. That’s a vital reason not to hit on your key pals.” She paused and worked her jaw, trying to ease the pressure. “Besides, she’s too young for me and I like my women with a little meat on their bones.”
“And I’m not planning anything,” Amanda responded before grinning, “for the moment, at least. I’ll tell you what, I’ll warn you before I try anything and we can schedule things. How’s February 30th, four years from today?”
Lucy laughed. “You’re cute. Your laughter matches your outlook. Of course, I’ll have to check my appointment book, but the date sounds fine. February the 30th it is. Now what’s this about relatives? Em never talks about family. In fact, she rarely admits to having one and they’ve never visited. What’s up?”
“Oh, they’re a delight!” Amanda stepped around Em, waving Lucy forward with her finger as she opened Em’s door, leaving Em staring after them open-mouthed, playing with her jaw. Lucy, seeing her opening, waved bye and trailed Amanda.
Em tagged along, rubbing her neck. “Traitor.”
Lucy grinned. “Come on, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can’t pass this up.”
“We’ve got a guest,” Amanda called in a sing-song cadence.
Lucy followed, smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary. “Hello the family! I’m Lucy Gadlel, one of Em’s many girlfriends, but always hoping for something more serious.”
“Not if you keep this up,” Em groused.
Becky giggled, offering her hand and curtsying. “My name is Becky.” Lucy was gorgeous with long blond hair, clear skin and penetrating eyes. She was dressed in a black skirt and blouse, a silver necklace and a black leather jacket.
Lucy bent over and graced her hand with a kiss. “Pleased to meet you, Madam.” As Em entered, Lucy turned to Becky’s mom. “You must be Francine. Are you the mother or younger sister?”
She blushed, but the smile on her face revealed the flattery was appreciated. “Oh, please, you’re too much. I’m Em’s sister-in-law and Becky’s mother. Em is pulling our butts out of the fire once again. But, honestly, we didn’t know you had a date. We wouldn’t dream of intruding.”
Lucy waved her concerns away. “Don’t worry. I know what Em’s like. But I can see what a beauty Becky will grow up to be.” As Francine blushed, Lucy lifted her hand and kissed it as well, though she spent longer with hers than her daughter’s.
“Look, if you can keep the conversation clean, I’ll go change,” Em said, shooting Lucy and Amanda a glare.
“So what kind of tales do you have of the elusive and mysterious Em?” Lucy asked.
Becky giggled, plopping back on the floor. “Auntie Em was telling us about the first time she ever fooled around with a man.”
Lucy’s brow shot up again. “Get outta here! Em mentioned she’d been with a guy before, but never volunteered any details. How’d you get her to open up so quickly?”
Em, who’d almost reached her door, backed up. “I wasn’t volunteering any details, I was simply saying I’d dated a guy.” She glanced around. “We should ... put that on hold. If I have to stay and monitor the conversation, I’ll never get ready.”
Lucy held her palm out to Francine, who passed her a wine glass. Lucy turned, sank down into the thick sofa, and patted the seat beside her, motioning Amanda to join her. “Forget the date. We can go out anytime. This is the only chance I’ve gotten to get the lowdown on your family history and what you were like when you were younger. Toss on some comfy pajamas, ‘cause we’re not going anywhere for a while.”
“So Em’s bi?” Amanda asked, sitting sideways on the couch beside Lucy, pulling her feet up under her.
“I’m not technically ‘bi.’ I only dabbled a little to see what it was like.” She shot a glance back at her room, as if evaluating the risk in leaving this group unguarded, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “I’ll tell you what, if we’re going through with this, let’s do it up right. Hold the conversation for a few minutes and I’ll get everyone their own glass.”
Amanda snuggled into the seat, waving her arms. “Becky, how about popping us some pop-corn with gobs of butter? This sounds like a fascinating story. ‘As the Lez Turns’. It’s got telenovela written all over it.” As Em entered the kitchen, she shouted after her. “You couldn’t recount these experiences in Spanish, could you? Maybe with a Dominican accent?”
As Becky and Em focused on their tasks, Amanda explained how Francine and Becky arrived on Em’s door and Lucy clarified her position in the household.
“I’m currently the top dog in a crowded pack. Although Em likes keeping others in play—mostly to keep anyone from getting too close—she keeps coming back to me. So I’m holding out hope eventually something will develop between us.” She flicked her hand up, examining her empty hand. “I’m still awaiting a fancy wedding in two white dresses and a police escort.”
“Keep dreaming,” Em answered from the kitchen. “I’ve told you before, I’ve seen too many cop marriages collapse, or worse, people hurting their wives when things in their lives aren’t going well. Cops and marriages don’t mix. It’s like oil and water.”
“But you have plenty of married cop buddies,” Lucy protested. “They’re doing fine.”
Em emerged with two glasses of wine, waving them as she spoke. “No, they’re balancing them. The problem isn’t marriage; it’s the nature of police life. It’s hard for anyone else to understand the stresses cops live under, and it’s difficult for spouses to handle the constant threat of serious injury. As a result, most cops withdraw and pal around with other police. Their home situation becomes unhealthy as the other partner overcompensates.” She handed Lucy and Amanda their glasses before heading back for hers. “It’s not a good setup for anyone, especially kids.”
“But don’t families help officers who are married deal with stress better?” Amanda asked.
“That’s their argument, but I’m not convinced.” Em leaned back in the room. “I’ve seen, time and again, where a happily wedded cop has affair after affair, searching for someone to pour his heart out to because they’re afraid to burden their spouses. In fact, I was at a funeral for a fellow officer recently—he died of a heart attack. Throughout the reception, one woman after another showed up, knocking on the door and looking sheepish when the wife answered. She’d invite them in, giving them a big hug as if it was nothing unusual. When I went in the kitchen, there were nine women, all comparing notes on how difficult living with the same cop was. They were all talking about sleeping with the same guy with his wife.”
“But surely that’s just the one officer,” Francine protested.
Em returned, carrying her glass and the rest of the bottle. “Sure, he might be an extreme example, but he’s the tip of the iceberg. The problem is the stress of the job. Police are under constant pressure, each and every day. We never know when someone might turn a gun on us, and we’re constantly aware of how quickly we can lose it. But we also know we can’t share those details with our partners because it would worry them unnecessarily. So we seek out others whom we can pour our hearts out to, but who don’t have to depend on us on a day-to-day basis. This can be affairs, prostitutes, food, alcohol, drugs and any combination, even bartenders or partners. But every cop I know relies on outside partners to one degree or another.” Em glanced around at the seating arrangement, deciding the other chairs were too far away, so she lowered herself beside Becky directly in front of the coffee table. “I take the path of least resistance. Instead of burdening a wife and then lying about it, I rely on a steady group of girlfriends. I can share a piece of my life with each, but none have to worry about me constantly. By alternating between them, they each get time to decompress and accept what I relate, and no one ever becomes too reliant.”
Becky turned to her aunt, sitting next to her, and playfully punched her in the arm. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a regular player. Now, can you continue with your story? I want to learn more of your first experience with a guy, rather than your reasons for being unfaithful.”
Em made a face, not liking Becky’s comparison. “It’s not that I’m cheating, it’s—”
“Yeah, it is,” Francine assured her, raising her glass to emphasize her point. “You can dress it up in whatever rationalizations you want, but you’re just afraid of commitments.”
“I’m committed to my job and that—”
“Come on,” Becky interrupted. “You don’t really buy that, do you?”
“If I wanted the Spanish Inquisition, I would have stayed on the job. Getting reamed by my boss, or being shot at, are much less painful!” Em mumbled under her breath while massaging her jaw. Lucy sat back and grinned, letting everyone else drive home her point.
Amanda waved her arms, disrupting everyone’s agendas. “OK, we all agree Em shouldn’t be terrified of love, but we’re eager to learn the details of her earlier experiences. She never talks about her past, so we’re eager to uncover her dirty little secrets.”
“Hear, hear,” Lucy chimed in. “For as much as she likes relating what she faces at work, she’s a mime when it comes to her family. I’m dying to hear about your failed experiment in the straight world.”
Em frowned, leaning back with her arms behind her. “It wasn’t an aborted attempt to be hetero. Instead we were covering for each other and ... got curious.” When everyone sat back, she hurried to elaborate. “I got together with Phillip partly to make Mena jealous, but also to protect him. He was, quite frankly, a flamer. He was limp-wristed, sang show tunes and had a general foppish style. As such, he got a lot of flak.”
“Yeah, like you aren’t as bad.” Lucy grinned, enjoying poking the bear she slept with. “You couldn’t come across as more of a butch dyke if you were a lumberjack!”
“Actually, that’s not true.” Em stopped to flex her biceps. “While I’ve always been a big girl, I was viewed as athletic. But I palled around with the other athletes, both male and female. I relate to men since they’re more competitive and push each other more.”
Lucy laughed. “You mean they tease and insult each other.”
Em gave a sardonic grin, but nodded. “Men aren’t as verbal as women. They don’t so much encourage as prod. But in either case, I felt comfortable around them as we push ourselves to advance, work harder and achieve more.”
Lucy agreed with a knowing smile. “I can picture that. You’re still the same. You’re more relaxed talking to your fellow policemen than with most women.”
Shrugging, Em continued. “As I was saying, I was popular, and no one dared say anything to me directly without someone sticking up for me. I used that to help Phillip. Even though everyone was convinced he was gay, I started gossiping to the other girl what a chameleon he was. How he was man enough not to pull a macho act but was actually a terrific lover.”
“And that worked?” Becky asked, raising her brows.
“It did. It was a combination of my force-of-will and my pals leaning on anyone who made negative comments. But his standing in the school shot up. But as I said, we got ... curious. He never engaged in sex and had no intention in coming out. Meanwhile, Mena and I had fooled around frequently. I was getting frustrated while dating Phillip. As a result, we ... experimented. Only he couldn’t maintain an erection. So I got the bright idea of making things easier for him.”
“Wait, how was it for you?” Becky shifted so she was facing her aunt face-on. “Did you enjoy the sex?” Francine shot her daughter a warning look and Becky hurried to correct herself. “After all, if you’re so into women, I’d think a man would be a let-down.”
Em shrugged. “Sex is sex. If a chimpanzee were to rub my private parts, I wouldn’t be as excited but it would still feel nice. Phillip was intelligent and looked more feminine than masculine. Given my druthers, I prefer women, but I’m not hung up on my sexual definition. I’m clearly lesbian, but fooling around with a guy doesn’t threaten my sexuality. Continuing the story, we discovered a solution. I became the guy in the relationship, and he became ... pardon me, but he became my bitch.”
“Do you mean he was into bondage?” Francine asked.
“No, nothing so exotic. I figured if Phillip couldn’t be the man in the relationship, then I’d be the man he was missing.” She shrugged again. “He took to it like a duck to water. Instead of cuddling face to face, I’d get behind him. That way he wouldn’t notice my breasts, but feel my muscular arms surrounding him. I encouraged him to think of his favorite hunk while whispering in his ear in a deep voice. His problem evaporated. It was probably successful because he’d never been with a man, but it worked. That’s what I meant, the affair wasn’t about me being straight, it was about my behaving as a gay man with another man.”
“And I’m sure you loved the irony of the situation,” Francine commented.
“I did, but not so much the humor. I found being dominant invigorating. Knowing I made a better man than the guy with the penis filled me with an enthusiasm which more than made up for not being with a woman.”
Lucy laughed, causing everyone to turn. “All right, you can’t play that game with me, but if it helps, I’ll get you a cat you can boss around.”
“Don’t worry,” Em told Lucy with a wink, “I get to be the man in our relationship too, so I get the same satisfaction. I prefer taking the lead.”
“Is that similar to how you act like a man by playing various women against each other, avoiding contact?” Amanda paused, examining her nails at arm’s length before continuing. “Are you sure you’re not overcompensating? Trying to become a man to make up for being a lesbian?”
Em frowned, her face scowling as she sat up and spread her arms. “This has nothing to do with my sexuality. I just have a very ... competitive side. I enjoy sharing that side of my personality with guys, because frankly, women don’t appreciate it as much. Let me assure everyone here, as much as I appreciate women and as macho as I sometimes act, I’m definitely all woman. Despite the difficulties, I wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in China. I love being a woman, and I wouldn’t exchange it for a damn penis.”
Amanda held both hands palms up. “I was just asking. It seemed like a straightforward connection. Personally, I like when a lesbian retains her natural inclination. We’ve lost too many good lezzie’s to sham marriages.”
“Ah, but we recover more when they figure out men don’t do it for them,” Lucy reminded her.
Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Maybe, but I prefer lesbians. The last thing I need is an amateur who doesn’t know the rules or how to approach women.”
Shaking her head, Em stood. “OK, folks, you got one set of secrets out of me. But today was a rough day and tomorrow will be worse. If you want to know why, turn on the news tomorrow and you’ll see my face plastered across the TV.” Everyone edged forward, preparing to respond when she held her hands up, forestalling any questions. “As I was saying, I think I’m ready for bed.” She extended her hand, lifting Lucy to her feet. “If you want to know what I’m doing—which I’m really not free to discuss anyway—we’ll cover that tomorrow.” Em and Lucy entered her bedroom, closing the door.
“I’ll stay up and help Becky and Francine get settled,” Amanda said.
“Thanks, Auntie Em. I appreciate how much time you spent with us.”
“And thanks for being patient with Becky. These were the things she can’t ask anyone else.”
A mumbled response drifted back out the door. The three women glanced at each other, wondering what they’d missed. Lucy opened the door, wearing a big grin. “She said you can make up for it by telling embarrassing stories about your youth, Francine.” With a last wave goodbye, Lucy closed the door again. The women in the living room laughed, knowing Em would never call them on it.
