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“I can’t believe we’re doing this on a school night!” Elizabeth yelled before twirling the glow-stick overhead. It whirled in time with the music, her hip circles following.
“Do we still have to call it a school night at our age?” Annabelle shouted back, also gyrating with the beat. She looked amazing when she moved like that, her ample hips able to swirl, pop, and lock in a way Elizabeth could never hope to imitate.
In fact, the last time she’d gone to a club and danced like that was... ages ago. She was, after all, in her forties. Clubbing wasn’t exactly high up on the list of priorities and Annabelle seemed to like reminding her of the fact that they had quite an age disparity.
Her age didn’t seem to bother anyone but Annabelle, something Elizabeth hoped she would get over sooner, rather than later. The words, “Age is just a number, baby,” remained on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back.
For now, it was a Tuesday night and she was doing something wildly out of character. Her face hurt from smiling so much and her heart was thumping along with the bass, her chest aching with both laughter and exertion.
Annabelle’s smile was worth it. She, too, was grinning as she danced, wearing a glow-stick necklace. Elizabeth decided her date didn’t realize how cute she was. That black hair was obviously not natural, the goth look intentional. But Elizabeth liked it. The piercings accentuated Annabelle’s lovely ears and the tattoos covering her bare arms were just sexy as hell. She also liked how Annabelle had curves. Not just the body of some kind of magazine cover babe, but a roundness to her thighs and belly that looked soft and inviting. No spin classes or hot yoga for this girl. She was all natural, all goth, and all kinds of unapologetic about keeping herself a complete mystery.
Elizabeth couldn’t be any more fascinated than she already was by this girl. Just the thought of it made her heart pound faster than her shimmying on the dance floor could. She had to find a way to cool down.
“I need a drink!” Elizabeth shouted over the music.
“Same!” Annabelle was fanning herself and nodded her head toward the bar. Together, they danced their way through the sea of moving bodies to order their waters. As much as Elizabeth enjoyed letting go, she had to be at least somewhat responsible. She’d have to wake up for work in the morning and a hangover wouldn’t do her any favors.
“I didn’t know Tuesday was the new party night.” It was still hard to breathe, but Elizabeth felt giddiness push the words from her throat. She gestured toward the crowd that packed the club, bodies swaying to the pounding tempo.
Annabelle gave a silent nod, swallowing her water. “Yeah,” she finally said. “I mean, not for people like you with a normal nine to five, but for the rest of us working shit jobs and wanting to get away? This is perfect.”
Elizabeth tried not to wince. She wanted to know more about Annabelle without her date feeling like she was being interrogated. She also didn’t want her to feel judged for where she worked, so she said, “We’ve all had our share of shit jobs.”
“Ha, not like mine. They don’t let you get anywhere near full time work hours and if you do somehow end up working over your scheduled time, they berate you and treat you like a jerk for doing it. Like you’ve somehow betrayed the company. It’s a horrible culture and most of the managers buy into it, which makes it even worse. My boss is a total dick, but all the managers there are. We get paid shit and have crappy benefits. And if you’re a cashier, ohhh boy!”
Annabelle rolled her eyes and Elizabeth could see her ramping up to continue her rant.
“If you’re a cashier, there is no upward movement at all. If you apply to work on the floor, they don’t care. They go through cashiers like candy, because so many people apply for one type of job and get stuffed in another. No one wants to be a cashier or, at least, they don’t want to do it long-term. But if you point out that you didn’t apply for that – that you applied to work in a specific section – they tell you that they need you as a cashier, so that’s where you’ll stay. They hand out anti-union propaganda and treat employees completely unfairly. You know that, though.” Annabelle waved to the club at large. “Everyone knows that!”
It was true. The horror stories about Annabelle’s workplace were national news and had been for so long, that it was a wonder more people weren’t standing up to the company. “Have you ever considered changing jobs?” Elizabeth asked.
Annabelle grimaced and, for a moment, Elizabeth was afraid she’d lost her chance to get to know her. Like perhaps she was implying Annabelle wasn’t good enough for her. But then Annabelle shrugged and said, “I have, but I don’t have the qualifications to really get a good job elsewhere. I also know for a fact that I don’t want to work in corporate America. Can you imagine me in a nice suit sitting behind a desk somewhere?” She snorted and shook her head.
“What do you want to do? I mean, like, what do you dream of doing?” It was the question Elizabeth had followed all her life, and even though she was now doubting her dream, she wondered about Annabelle’s.
“You can’t laugh if I tell you.” Annabelle must have been just relaxed enough to open up to Elizabeth, because her eyes were sparkling in the glow of the lights and a half-smile tugged at her lips.
“I wouldn’t dare laugh at you.” To show she was sincere, Elizabeth placed her hand over her heart.
“Okay. So I want to work at a theme park year-round. I mean, preferably a medieval reenactment one, but any park would do, as long as I can be a character.”
As promised, Elizabeth didn’t laugh. She was surprised, though. It was a thought that had flitted through her mind from time to time. If the faire was year-round, she would love to work there. “Do you want to be an actress?”
“No. Heck, no. I can’t imagine how awful that would be – how competitive and stressful. Besides, I don’t want to be famous. That’s too much pressure. I just want to have fun and make people smile.”
“Ah.” Elizabeth nodded and looked at the crowd still surging like a tidal wave on the dance floor. “The most elusive dream of all – have fun and get paid doing it.”
“Right?” Annabelle let out another little snort. “Of course, my father thinks I ought to, I don’t know, get into business or whatever it is my sister does. And my stepmonster just wants me not to embarrass her by my very existence, which is pretty much something I can’t change.”
“Stepmonster?”
Annabelle turned to her and shrugged. “Stepmother, I guess, but trust me when I say stepmonster is a more appropriate term.”
Stepfamily added a complication Elizabeth had no experience with, thankfully. She waved her hand up and down along Annabelle’s body. “So is this – the black hair and piercings and tattoos – some kind of rebellion against your family, then?”
That question seemed to spark even more laughter in Annabelle. “Yeah,” she acknowledged. “The hair, the goth thing, working where I work – it’s all rebellion, baby. And maybe it’s me trying to make it on my own, too, without relying on the family. Like, I could have stayed with them and had it made, you know? But that would have involved compromising myself. I needed... uh, that word for being on your own...”
“Independence.”
“That’s the one. It’s too loud for me to think in here. But, yup, I needed my independence.”
Elizabeth mulled that over as she thought about her own family. “It seems like you and I have something in common, then, because ever since I was twelve, I just wanted to be independent of my family.”
Something softened Annabelle’s features. Sympathy, Elizabeth realized, as her date asked, “Were they awful to you?”
“No, no, not at all! I really loved my parents and my sister. See, we both have sisters, so there’s something we have in common.” Elizabeth smiled for a moment, before turning her face back to the dance floor. Everyone out there looked so carefree, caught up in the moment, their bodies swaying back and forth. “I loved my parents,” she repeated, “but they were a lot older when they had me, so I lost them only a few years ago. Natural causes, nothing sudden or tragic.”
“I bet it still sucks, though.” Annabelle’s voice was warm with empathy and Elizabeth nodded, appreciating it.
“Yes, still sucks. I think that’s a good way to put it. As for my sister, well, I lost her when I came out.”
“Ouch. That sucks, too.”
“Yeah. I know. My parents were so angry at her for rejecting me. They raised us to be very accepting, very Warren Buffett democratic types, you know?”
“Mine too. My upbringing was great until...” Annabelle pressed her lips together and Elizabeth saw her shut down, her walls firmly in place once again. She hated that, especially since everything had been going so well up until that point.
Rather than prod, though, she set her empty water bottle back down on the bar and reached for Annabelle’s hand. “You know what? That’s enough talk about deep, sucky stuff. How about another dance, one more for the road?”
There was a moment of reluctance, a little tug of resistance, but then Annabelle followed her under the flashing lights. As before, they lost themselves in the rhythm, dancing side by side, though not touching. Elizabeth respected Annabelle’s physical and emotional distance. There was still something there – something she wanted to tease out of her, but she didn’t know what it was just yet. Certainly, she knew there was more than met the eye when it came to Annabelle.
That feistiness was genuine, but it also covered genuine pain. If it was something related to family, then Elizabeth wondered if it was another way they could connect. Goodness knew she had her own deep-seated pain when it came to her sister’s rejection of her, after such a happily shared childhood.
As they left the club together, tired and giddy from a night of dinner and dancing, Annabelle pressed up next to her. “You know, I’ve had a crush on you ever since my first ren faire.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth looked at the woman at her side, noting the warmth exchanged where they touched – shoulders and hips. The confession took her by surprise, considering how reticent Annabelle was about revealing her feelings.
“Yeah. The first time I went was about four or five years ago and I saw you there. You made a convincing queen, except you’re a lot prettier than the real Queen Elizabeth is in the portraits.” Even under the streetlights, Elizabeth could see the blush darkening Annabelle’s cheeks. “I really wanted to be a player there, too, even though it barely pays minimum wage. It took a while to work up the courage to audition, but when I did, somehow I wowed them.”
Elizabeth knew why. During the fall, Annabelle had shown she had the poise and beauty to play a noblewoman, even if she didn’t behave the same way in real life. She’d adhered to every rule and put on a flawless performance.
“It was a way to do something fun and get close to you, but once I was near you...” Annabelle dropped her gaze from Elizabeth’s. “Well, it felt like you really were the queen and I was nobody important. Just someone at your side, to serve you. You’re the perfect queen, you know that? I thought you were probably just as haughty in real life, so that’s why I never had the courage to talk to you first.”
“Because I didn’t talk to you other than as the queen during the time the faire was in session.” Elizabeth’s throat constricted. She could have talked to Annabelle. The rules weren’t terribly strict. As long as patrons – people attending the faire – couldn’t see them, she could have been a little friendlier, rather than sticking to the script. But she’d focused on maintaining the best level of realism and professionalism she could when she was around her fellow players.
The queen was a mainstay of the faire, one of the stars the people came to see. It was rare that Elizabeth had privacy. When she was in the spotlight, all eyes were on her, such as at the joust. That meant Elizabeth adhered to a strict set of standards in public or anywhere someone might see her interacting with the other players. Keeping the illusion alive was an important aspect of the faire.
“Well, I could have told you I was attracted to you, too,” Elizabeth said, “but the only place I could really do that without anyone possibly overhearing was in the changing rooms and that felt kind of... I don’t know, inappropriate or skeevy.”
Annabelle’s chuckle warmed her all over, a welcome sensation in the cool late November night. “You’re right. That would have been an uncomfortable place to let a girl know you’re into her.”
“Can I let you know here, then, that I think there’s something unique about you?” Elizabeth turned so she was facing Annabelle. Their bodies remained pressed together, not at the shoulders anymore, but their breasts. It wasn’t quite what she’d intended, but now that she was there...
Annabelle beat her to the kiss, her full lips brushing over Elizabeth’s at first, and then molding to hers. Elizabeth had always wanted to kiss lips like those, ones that looked pillowy-soft, like Angelina Jolie’s. Now that she was kissing them, it felt just like she imagined – sweet and supple, velvety and cushy. Annabelle’s lips moved against hers with just enough pressure to leave her wanting more. Elizabeth wanted to keep going, to just stand there and savor that kiss.
Her hands curled around Annabelle’s shoulders and she couldn’t stop the little moan that slipped from between her own lips, muffled against her date’s. Annabelle returned the sound, a delight to Elizabeth’s ears. The brunette was just a few inches shorter than her and Elizabeth liked their height difference. It allowed her to lean in, to show Annabelle just how much she didn’t want the date to end, even though it was getting late.
“You don’t have to go home, you know,” she murmured when they finally put an inch between their mouths.
“First date, though...”
“Do you want it to end?” Elizabeth was almost afraid of the answer to that question. She wasn’t used to people refusing her in life or work. Then again, it might have felt nice to have someone turn her down, just once.
She gave Annabelle a little more space. Those huge, brown eyes of hers were blinking up at Elizabeth, wide with wonder. “No sex,” Annabelle said firmly.
“No sex,” Elizabeth agreed.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t do many other delicious things together.