It was a very good kiss.
It did not stop the world.
It did not transport Gayle into a realm of orgasmic bliss.
It was not a kiss for the ages.
They were, after all, both half drunk and kissing in the bathroom of a bar. Given that, though, it was a very, very good kiss.
Dianna’s lips were full and soft. And she cupped the back of Gayle’s neck without too much force. Her other hand grazed Gayle’s cheek in the moment before she probed gently with her tongue.
At first Gayle had no idea what to do with her hands, and it felt like she had too many of them and that each one weighed fifty pounds. She finally anchored them on Dianna’s upper arms. Not as a caress, but for lack of any other plan that seemed to fit the moment.
She was aware of so many things during that kiss.
She and Dianna were almost the same height.
They both had large breasts, and those breasts were pressed together.
Dianna was very curvy and had broad shoulders, but she was much smaller than Scott, who was a big man. The difference in size was a little jarring.
Dianna’s lips were softer than any man’s Gayle had ever kissed. And her tongue was much less insistent.
There was no groping. Scott, and virtually every man before her, had groped. Usually hands went straight to her breasts. Not now.
Dianna kissed with her eyes open, though her lips were almost closed. A sleepy, dreamy expression. Gayle shut hers because she didn’t want to make eye contact. The moment was already strange enough.
Dianna’s breath smelled of gin and dirty olives and a little bit of mint.
The kiss probably lasted twenty seconds. A long time for a first kiss. Very long. Though it felt both shorter and much longer.
Dianna ended the kiss but did not move away. Gayle opened her eyes and they stood there very close, still holding each other, both of them breathing hard. Gayle, perhaps, nearly panting.
“You are very sweet,” murmured Dianna.
“Th-thank you,” said Gayle, tripping on it. Meaning it on several different levels.
There was a knock on the door, but neither of them responded to it.
Dianna stepped back and it was as if she was deliberately withdrawing her energy from the moment. She moved over to the sink and checked her hair. Her smile was constant. Small and amused.
Thunder boomed hard enough to rattle the whole building and then came the barrage of heavier rain hitting the roof.
“It’s going to rain like this for hours,” said Dianna. “Maybe all night.” She unslung her purse, dug into it, and removed her phone. She looked up, one eyebrow raised. “May I have your number?”
“Um … yes…” said Gayle, and gave it.
Dianna tapped the keys. She came over and kissed Gayle on the cheek, and left the bathroom without saying another word.
A blond woman, looking annoyed at having found the door locked, brushed past and went into one of the stalls. It took Gayle quite a while to compose herself enough to go back out to the bar, but was dismayed to find Dianna gone. She lifted her coaster in hopes of finding a note, but there was nothing.
She sank down on the chair and stared at her drink, feeling more heavily disappointed than she would have imagined. She’d kissed a woman. A beautiful woman. And it was lovely.
What, she wondered, would have made it perfect?
Every bit of the answer to that question involved her. It was nerves and surprise and insecurity that were responsible for any flaws, of that she was certain.
Her phone pinged with the chime for an instant message. It would be Scott, of course.
Except it wasn’t.
It was a phone number she did not recognize. And an address three miles outside of town. No other note.
Nothing else was needed.
Gayle settled her bill with Juana and was driving through the rain in less than two minutes.