Thursday, 19 November 2009

Sometimes, It's Sex

So here's a little piece of fiction that turned out a let less smutty than anticipated. You plan for the sex and the plot just blindsides you I guess.

Usual Disclaimers Apply: Here be Lesbians.

Fresh out of the coldest shower I could manage, I pick up a pair of fresh cotton panties and slip them on. I almost put on a t-shirt but think better of it. It’s a typical summer night in Beirut, the air so heavy it feels like I’m breathing underwater. I can practically feel the nonexistent material clinging to the small of my back.

I walk into the bedroom, the whirring of the electric fan loud as it makes valiant effort to cool the room. No dice. I glance at the bed, Lara spread out on top of it, her long black hair fanned out around her head, as if spread out to catch the last of the coolness from the sheets. She makes a pretty picture, cigarette held gently between fingers that made me very happy just a few minutes ago. I think of joining her there, briefly, but I don’t.

Too hot. It’s too hot for snuggling, too hot even for sex. I’ve gotten too used to the omnipresence of air-conditioning back home. As much as I’ve missed sex with my girlfriend, I don’t think I can manage any more of it tonight.

Even as I’m thinking this, my feet take me closer to the bed. Sometimes it feels like she’s my true north, and no matter how hard I try to resist, I end up making my way towards her.

Despite my desire to fall onto the sheets and put my mouth to hers, I only steal a cigarette before making my way to the armchair across the room. I sprawl out, trying to take advantage of the quickly disappearing relief of the cool fabric.

I take a quick drag of smoke before speaking. “So,” I say, “You want to tell me why nearly everyone tonight was treating me as if I was made out of china?”

“Because the entire fucking community is made up of ignorant gossips that need to learn to mind their own business?” Her words may be harsh, but they seem to carry more amusement that anger.

“Care to elaborate?” Our friends are a pretty tight knit group, and information travels fast. Lara is not a fan of the gossip mill, but evolved girlfriend or not, I hate being out of the loop.

“Word is” she says without preamble, “I’m cheating on you.”

“And why would anyone think that?”

“Apparently if someone walks in and sees you face down on some girl’s vagina, it means you’re being unfaithful.”

“Oh?” I ask, shifting slightly, already slightly turned on by the image of my girlfriend lying between the phantom girl's thighs.

“Mmm,” Lara grins, “She was so juicy. Like eating out a peach.”

And just like that it's as if my last orgasm was years away. “Tell me about her?”

Lara pauses, and gives me a look. I wonder how I look to her... breasts bared, fingers of my left hand curling around the waist of my bright blue cotton panties, already inching them down.

Apparently, I look like a pervert who can't have a serious conversation. “… I know that you have a more or less one track mind when we can spend time together, but can we get back to the whole issue of everyone thinks I’m cheating you thing?”

Definitely an oversexed pervert then. I blow out a frustrated breath. “Me?! You started it, goddamn fucking tease,” I say without much heat. I hope.

“Heh, I know. Sorry couldn’t resist. I’ll tell you later, I promise. So anyway, that’s why…”

“You bet your fucking ass you’re finishing this. Can’t believe you bring that up and then you stop like that.” I am no a fan of sexual frustration. Not when I haven't seen my girlfriend for three very long months.

“Jenna!” If it wasn’t so hot she’s probably get up and smack me on the head. “Focus!”

“OK,” I say, “Right. So. Cheating.” Sex. Sex. Sexsexsex.

“Yes. Cheating. Remember when Jesse was rooming with me before she left for that job in Montreal?”


“Yeah well. One night I thought she’d gone up to Zahle to visit her family, but then she had something come up in town she forgot to tell me about.”

“And she walked in on you with Peach Girl.”

“And she walked in on me with Peach Girl.”

“And you didn’t explain that I was cool with it why exactly?”

“I don’t even know, I mean she left right away. And by the next day I saw her and she’d already told Lulu and Sara. Lulu had told Tanya and Tanya told Rana, and it just blew up. And they assumed, which pissed me off so much that I didn’t deny it, because I don’t need to defend myself to them like some sort of criminal.”

“Fuck.” The problem with being in such a close community is that things never stay private for long. “When was this?”

“Two months ago?”

“And you haven’t told me why exactly?” If I know my friends, they probably haven’t been very warm to Lara since then. I love them to death but the do close ranks ridiculously quickly.

“Because there’s nothing much you could have done from Kuwait? Because you’re miserable there as it is and I didn’t want to add to that? Because however they choose to interpret my actions, it only matters to me that you know what I’m about?”

I’m quiet, looking at my suitcase, contents strewn out like the guts of an amateur sacrifice to the Gods of Long-Distance Relationships. I got here today and in two weeks I’ll be leaving again. It’s going to be the longest we’ve spent together in more than a year. Usually it’s a spare weekend stolen away every few months. Three years already, and god knows how many more to come. It’s not easy. For me or for her. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” It’s abrupt, but definitely heartfelt.

I sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if we both wouldn’t be happier if..”

“Fuck you.” She’s more frustrated than angry when she interrupts me, “I told you a thousand times. I don’t care about easy. I care that we’re together. You and me. That’s what matters. Two days, two weeks, two years, two life times, I’ll take whatever I can get with you. And soon you’ll have enough saved up for that masters in Vancouver. And I can finally take that job. My parents are already there, only two hours away, and they can’t wait. Hell, they probably love you more than they love me anyway. You’re saying you want to disappoint them?”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “No?” God forbid I disappoint Lara’s *parents*. That’s my baby. Always deflecting with other people.

“Good.” She nods, as if it’s all settled. “So now that’s all over, let’s fuck.”

If she thinks that she can distract me from the issue as easily as that she’s delusional. There a lot of things we need to work out, because I don’t want to imagine what would happen to us if we let these things fester. And I need to have a talk with my friends because our relationship is our business. And if I’m OK (more than OK) with Lara fucking other girls when I’m away then they’re going to learn to be OK with it as well. Oh we are going to talk. First thing in the morning. After all… “How can I resist such a pretty offer?”

What I'm Listening to Right Now: متيم - راشد الماجد

Monday, 9 November 2009

It's Not Sex

It's not sex I miss. You can't miss what you never had, not really. What I miss is the intimacy. The easy physical affection. I miss touching. I miss hugging. I miss kissing.

Twenty days, only twenty days of being around only other LGBT women, and it's more real than an entire lifetime of everything else. Twenty days of breathing easy. Twenty days of honesty. Twenty days of belonging. Twenty days of joy.

Three months since I've been back in my real life, but I am no longer able to reconcile myself to the lie. Three months of acting straight. Three months of being back in the closet. Three months of being bereft of touch.

In Lebanon, Inever went long without the someone's arms slipped around me, offering love and comfort. Say what you will about the Community, they are not stingy in their physical affection. I never knew how tactile a person I was until I had all that at my fingertips. Often literally so.

These girls, my girls, their love, it overwhelms. In our space, there are no barriers. At first it seemed so strange, everyone climbing under, over, and onto one another. I was hesitant at first. For a few seconds. But I quickly fell under the spell of their complete openness and generosity in their affection. I had no idea how starved I was for all of it until I could have my fill. I never knew there was someplace I could belong. But like Frost says, Nothing gold can stay.

So I came back to Kuwait. So Eden sank to grief. Once again I am without the comfort of loving arms.

What I'm Listening To Right Now: Reelin' in the Years - Steely Dan