"We need a bigger screwdriver," Felicity said after the fifth attempt at getting the recalcitrant lock to release. The one they had was a fancy, six-inch Chrome Vanadium Phillips-head that the salesperson on the Home Shopping Network had lauded as being the master of any situation, but they needed a regular flathead to jam it deep enough into the locking mechanism.

"Shit," Kristen and Sandra said as one.

"Will a crowbar do?" a female voice said from the door. They all turned around to see Cathy walk back in holding an old-fashioned crowbar.

The earthy woman grinned and shuffled up to the bathroom door with the large tool. "Cathy delivers… as always, ha ha. I happened to come by this bad boy in the utility room."

"Girl… you peed in the utility room?" Kristen said with her eyes narrowed down into slits.

"Ah, no. The janitors had a stall I could use. Never mind that now. Ya think it's got enough oomph?"

"Less talking, more breaking down, Cathy," Felicity said and stepped away to give the older woman plenty of room to insert the crowbar's forked end into the narrow gap.

"Stand clear, ev'rybody. I don't know my own strength at times," Cathy said and gave the crowbar a strong yank that didn't do anything apart from chipping the paint and stripping off the outer layers of wood. "Oh… shit," she mumbled, looking at the mess she had made.

"Let me try," Sandra said and gently pushed the older woman aside. She spat in her hands and took a firm two-handed grip on the long bar. "Dana… look out!  We're gonna use a crowbar to break down the door!"

'Okay…' Dana mumbled from inside the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, Sandra rammed the tool in far enough for most of the forked end to be buried into the crevice between the door and the jamb. With a heave-ho, she flexed her fit frame and pulled the crowbar towards her. The strong pull forced open the door with an agonizing crunch.

Cathy only just had time to nudge Felicity's side and whisper "Abs of steel, baby!" before a purple and black shadow flew out of the bathroom and into the arms of the nearest person - who happened to be Kristen.

Dana let out a howling sob as she was comforted by the poet. The two young women hugged each other and swayed back and forth on the smooth linoleum floor. "God, I was so afraid…" Dana croaked into Kristen's shoulder, "I thought I'd never get out… I've been in there for half an hour… nobody came to look for me… and nobody needed to use the bathroom… I was all alone in there and it was scary… I texted my friends but they were too busy… or something. And I missed half your show!"

Kristen rubbed her hands up and down Dana's back to comfort the frightened youngster. "But you're out now… shhh… c'mon, let's go over to the Kozy Korner and catch our breaths. Yeah?  You can tell me all about it there… okay?"

"Okay," Dana said and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Kristen smiled as she pulled the other girl in for a sideways hug while they shuffled past one of the abandoned stacks of chairs. "Okay. It's just over here. Girls, thank you so much. I got it from here," she said over her shoulder at the three older women standing at the busted door.

Felicity chuckled darkly, glaring at the chairs that nobody seemed to want to gather up except her. "Yeah. No problem, Kristen. Glad to help. Now who's gonna help me collect those damn chairs?  Sandra?  Cathy?  What in the… where did Cathy go?"

"She had promised to return the crowbar once we were done with it," Sandra said. She was kneeling on the floor, scooping up the many pieces of wood that had been knocked loose from the busted lock and door.

"Oh. How convenient."

"And I was making sandwiches for later on," Sandra said and clambered to her feet holding a handful of bits and pieces from the doorjamb - she deliberately avoided the dark look that Felicity shot back at her. "So now we can't use our only bathroom," she continued to change the subject into something less dangerous.

Though Felicity was grumbling under her breath about the mountain of work she had to pull off on her own, the mere presence of the cute blonde rendered her unable to stay annoyed for too long. Shrugging, she shuffled over to the nearest row of chairs and began to stack them. "That's why they invented string. Tie one end to the door and the other end to the faucets. That'll keep the sucker closed."

"Well, excuse me," Sandra said and adjusted her spectacles, "but I'm not going to drop my breeches when the door can't close properly. I know that Kristen and others in her generation wouldn't think twice about it, but… no. Just no."

Felicity chuckled and leaned against a tall stack of chairs that she had just finished collecting. "I'll get the janitors to come over and take a look at it tomorrow. This is a respectable establishment, young lady, not a hole-in-the-wall peep show!"

Laughing out loud, Sandra turned around and stuck out her tongue at her companion. "Thank you for seeing things my way. If the chairs can wait for five minutes, I'll come out and help you with the rest when I have the sandwiches done. How does that sound?"

"Just fine, Sandra. I'll give my back a breather in the meantime," Felicity said and sat down on the next chair.

---

At the Kozy Korner, Kristen helped the shell-shocked Dana up into the sofa. The young girl with the purple hair kicked off her boots and scooted into the farthest corner so she wouldn't disturb her heroine, but Kristen patted the seat right next to her. "Don't sit way over there… c'mere. Let's share the moment."

Dana blushed but shuffled closer to the poet. When she was nearer to her idol than she had ever dreamt she would be, she leaned against the soft shoulder offered to her and let out a satisfied sigh. She stiffened when Kristen reached around her and began to muss her arm, but the friendly contact only added to her comfort, and she was able to relax again.

They sat like that for a while until Kristen tapped Dana's shoulder. "Girl, can you scoot over for like two seconds?  I wanna get my legs up," she said quietly.

Dana nodded and scooted way over in the corner all over again so she wouldn't upset the star.

"No, girl," Kristen said with a chuckle. "I just wanted to pull up my legs. C'mon back… you may rest your head on my lap if you feel like it," she continued, folding her legs up underneath her. The casual sitting position created a nest along her thighs that was just perfect for a head.

Dana's cheeks blushed tomato-red, but she overcame her acute embarrassment and scooted back to her idol. Gulping audibly, she shuffled over onto her back and rested her head on Kristen's khaki cargo pants.

"Yeah, this is nice," Kristen said with a broad grin on her face. "Hey girl, I'm so sorry you got locked up in the shithouse. What did you miss of my show?"

"Most of the second half," Dana squeaked, lying stock still so it wouldn't appear she was trying to cop a feel on the star's legs. "But… but… I still heard most of it through the door… when I wasn't yelling for someone to come and help me."

"Shit, girl… if I had heard you, I would have come to your rescue."

"I know you would, Kristen," Dana said, but clammed up at once out of fear of appearing too familiar with a woman she had only known for seven minutes all in all - apart from the two years she had obsessed about her from a distance.

Another minute of silence went by until Dana's hand crept down towards her pocket. Licking her lips, she looked up at Kristen like she was arguing with herself to go ahead with it or not. Going ahead seemed to win because she croaked: "I… I've written a poem. It's-"

"Oh, you're a poet?"

Dana shook her head which made her purple wave fly left and right. "Oh no, no, not like you. Nothing like you. It's just a little thing that… that I wanted to give you. Or recite to you."

"Seems to me we're in a pretty good place to do just that. Don't you think?"

"Uh… well… I suppose. Really?"

"Really," Kristen said with a chuckle that spread down her body and into her legs where the trembling caused Dana to blush all over again.

Gulping down a lump of terror, Dana finally reached into her front pocket with a trembling hand. She produced a folded-up piece of paper that she fumbled with for several, long seconds before she could get her fingers to work. "Uh… uh… okay, I… uh…"

"Dana, just calm down and let the words speak for themselves. Yeah?"

"God, you called me by my name…" the young girl croaked while her eyes nearly crossed over from pure excitement. She shook her head to get everything back in place. "Uh… okay. I'll try. I… it's titled Shadows."

"Go on," Kristen said, leaning her head back to focus on the words.

Dana licked her lips and read the first few lines a couple of times to get the words under her skin. When she had found the right tone, she began: "I am but a shadow / walking alone on Pressley Square / people are all around me / but it's clear they don't care / about a shadow. I am but a shadow / neon signs selling triple X / aging prostitutes / offering cheap, dirty sex / we shadows see it all. I am but a shadow / dreaming about how it would be / if they tore it all down / and left it to you and me / we would no longer be / in the shadows." Having finished it, she folded the note and awaited the judgment with bated breath.

"You know," Kristen said, looking down at the purple-haired fan, "that wasn't bad at all, Dana. It reminded me of one of my older poems, Pressley Square, except that it was a lot less muddled."

"I… I think I may have been inspired by your poem. But I've walked around Pressley Square so often that I felt I had something to say about it as well."

Kristen chuckled. "Too damn right. I think you captured it better than I did. I tried to use metaphors, but now I think direct prose would have been better. Wow, you go, girl."

"Oh God, thank you… you can't imagine how often I've torn it up and started over…"

"Yeah, I can, actually. You always know where to find me when I'm writing 'cos there's a path of torn-up notes leading up to my cave."

Dana chuckled at the star's candid comments but soon blushed out of fear of appearing like she was laughing at her. "Oh yeah, I know what that-"

The quiet conversation was rudely interrupted by a sound akin to a dry twig snapping. The twig was followed within a second by an odd case of rolling thunder that seemed to go on for a while.

Dana jerked around on Kristen's lap as she tried to stare in all directions at once to figure out what had caused the strange sounds. "What was that?  Was that an earthquake?" she whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Nope," Kristen said, letting out a deep sigh.

'That wasn't a shelf!' Felicity barked from the other side of the bookstore where she had just finished stacking the final chairs. 'Tell me that wasn't a shelf!  Anybody?  Tell me that wasn't a dirty, rotten, piece of… shelf!'

'A shelf has collapsed, Felicity,' a friendly soul said from the aisle where the mishap had occurred.

Four seconds went by; just enough time for Kristen to count off on her fingers. Before she could show a full hand, Felicity exploded in a fit of rage that sent Dana jerking around all over again.

"Don't tell me that wasn't an earthquake…?" the purple-haired girl croaked.

"Nope. That was Felicity, the administrator. One of the shelves has collapsed."

"Oh… I guess we should help…?"

Kristen nodded and gave Dana a little nudge to tell her the improvised fan session was over. The two women sat up straight and swung their feet down onto the floor. While they were busy putting on their boots, Kristen reached over and put a warm hand on Dana's arm which made the purple-haired woman come to a screeching halt. "Girl, are you doing anything afterwards?" she said, cocking her head and shooting her companion an intense look.

Dana's face turned red in an instant, and she pulled her lips back in such a crazy grimace it was possible to see that she was missing one of her molars on the right side of her upper jaw. She licked her lips furiously and looked anywhere but at the star. "Kristen, I'm… not… I'm not gay."

"Oh…"

"So… we… we… I can't- I wouldn't be comfor- comf- comfortable-"

Kristen chuckled and leaned in to bump shoulders with the other woman whose face resembled a entire tomato hot house. "I'm not looking for a groupie. I was gonna ask if you'd like to go down to Isaac Ivory's… the all-night coffee shop down on Twenty-Third Street?  I was thinking we could play a few songs on my guitar and… you know, chat about poems and shit. I need to talk to someone who understands where I'm coming from."

"I'm free all evening!  Isaac Ivory's?" Dana croaked in a thick voice. She tried to go on, but her voice failed her at the worst moment. She wanted to nod instead to show that she would very much like to spend a night on the town with such a star as Kristen Laneau, but the pitiful jerking of the head that she produced didn't offer much of a clue either. "Oh God, yes!" she finally croaked.

"Cool. Let's do that after we've helped Felicity. She's really, really old… almost fifty… so she needs all the help she can get. Yeah?"

"Uh-huh!" Dana said and hopped off the sofa.

---

The bookstore had already turned into a hen house with women of all ages flocking to the site of the collapse to give a hand or to provide a running commentary on how the others should do it.

Felicity stomped across the smooth linoleum floor with a worried Sandra and a chuckling Cathy in tow. The mismatched trio went around a great deal of the Bookworm Sanctuary to check if anything else had gone wrong until they reached the unruly pile of books that had been strewn about in the middle of the aisle housing the medical romance novels.

A single look at Felicity's face - which seemed a lot darker than usual - prompted Sandra to kneel down and begin to scoop up the books and sort them into neat piles. The medical romance novels all had realistically drawn covers featuring women and men in lab coats, surgery scrubs or even EMT uniforms; the men were always Alpha types with manly jaws and big hands, and the women all had beautiful hair and were depicted with perfect skin and graceful proportions, save perhaps for their bosom which tended to be somewhat on the voluminous size.

One cover in particular made her snigger and shake her head. The book it was for - Dee Jaye Fredericks' Saviors In White - was thirty years old which was quite evident in the starry-eyed way the female patient gazed at the hunky doctor while he took her blood pressure by holding onto her Barbie-doll-sized wrist with his large, manly fingers.

Kristen and Dana shuffled up to the flock of interested spectators and peeked through the massed ranks. Felicity's face hadn't yet returned to its regular dark complexion, and Sandra was sniggering to herself from the look of the silly covers. "Girl, I don't think there's much for us to do here. Wanna go back to the sofa?  Or you wanna go down to Isaac Ivory's at once?" Kristen said and reached for Dana's hand.

The purple-haired woman let out a strangled squeak when her fingers were given a squeeze, but she overcame the awkward fangirl moment to offer Kristen a little squeeze in return. "Uh-huh," she said, looking down at the star's tattooed hand.

"Which 'uh-huh' would that be, Dana?"

"Uh… what?  Oh… the sofa."

"Okay. Hey, Felicity, you don't need us right now, do ya?"

Felicity looked up with a sour grimace etched onto her face. When she caught a glimpse of the entwined hands, her mood - and look - lifted and she was able to screw at least a partial smile onto her face. "Nah. I think we've got enough people here… who are watching when they could be helping!" she said a little too loudly for the circumstances.

Many of the spectators cleared their throats in embarrassment and shuffled away. Kristen and Dana went last after the poet had winked at the two older women who were busy with sorting the books in alphabetical order after the author.

---

Twenty minutes later, the sofa at the Kozy Korner echoed from the sound of the mini-concert that was taking place. Kristen sat at one end singing a song and playing her guitar, and Dana occupied the other end clapping time and grinning like a maniac at the billion dollar experience of seeing her big idol Kristen Laneau doing what she did best.

The song ended and both women broke down in giggles. Reaching out, they thumped fists before they fell back against the corners of the sofa. "So," Kristen said, striking a dramatic chord. "Are we still on for Isaac Ivory's?"

Dana nodded and swept the purple hair out of her eyes. "Uh-huh. If you don't mind having a fan there."

" 'Course not, girl. It'll be cool and shit to have someone to talk to. Hey, have you ever tried to play the guitar?"

"Gosh, no. Well, that's not true," Dana said while her cheeks were tinted by the umpteenth blush she had experienced on the crazy evening, "I got one for Christmas one year, but it sounded so shitty-like I gave it away before the Spring Break. Sorry. When did you learn to play?"

"When I was seven."

"Oh… I must be stupid, then…"

Kristen eyed the purple-haired girl to see if she was jesting, but it was clear by the frown that had formed between her expressive eyes that she wasn't. Grunting, she shuffled around and took off the guitar. "C'mon over… come over and I'll teach you… okay, maybe not teach you 'cos that's a whole lotta shit, but show you some grips and things."

"No, that's too much hassle for a dimwit like me…" Dana mumbled.

"Oh, BS, girl… c'mon over. There's plenty of room over here," Kristen said and patted the seat next to her.

When Dana finally moved over to the other side of the sofa, the guitar was put over her shoulder. Gulping, she tried to hold her hands in what she felt were the proper places. "Like this… right?"

"Almost," Kristen said and hopped up into the sofa. She shuffled around so she knelt close behind the newbie with a khaki-clad thigh on either side of the torn, black jeans. Though she felt Dana stiffen by her closeness, she guided her left hand a bit further up the guitar's neck, and her right a bit further down to the base. "Okay, and your right hand on the board… down here. Feel it?"

Someone cleared her throat in front of the sofa which made Kristen look up.

"Since you got a guitar, I guess it really is fore-play, huh?  Why don't you gals find a nice, little hotel room somewhere?" Cathy said with a grin.

"It's not like that at all, girl," Kristen said in a voice that had a harder edge than normal. When she felt a shiver run through Dana's body in front of her, she pulled back and cocked her head. "Dana?"

"I didn't wanna say anything… but I'm really uncomfortable with anyone getting that close to me," Dana said in a tiny voice. Gulping audibly, she got to her feet to create some distance to the warm body that had been leaning against her back.

"Shit… shit, girl, you should have told me. I'm so sorry," Kristen said and moved back at once. When she noticed Cathy was still observing them, she zoomed in on the earthy woman with a hard glare in her eyes. "Bye, Cathy. Nice talking to you."

Cathy grimaced and let out an insulted huff, but she did as asked and shuffled away from the sofa.

Kristen sighed deeply and scooted over to the backrest of the sofa so nobody would get the wrong impression of what they were doing. "I'm sorry, girl… I never stopped to think it was a problem. I'm really sorry."

"That's all right," Dana said with a weak smile. "I should have told you sooner. It was my fault. I guess Ivory's-"

Shaking her head vehemently, Kristen hopped down from the sofa. She quickly stuffed her feet down her boots before she helped Dana take off the guitar. "Girl, it's never your fault. Ever. You hear me?  It's my fault 'cos I didn't think about asking how you felt about it. We're gonna go over to Isaac Ivory's right now and I'm gonna pay for their gold coffee and a whipped cream pie to make up for being such a dick. Please don't say no," she said and put out her hand.

Dana stared at Kristen with a pair of round eyes. A faint smile slowly crept onto her lips as she took the hand offered to her. "Thank you. I'd like that… I'm a sucker for whipped cream pie," she said and swept the purple wave out of her eyes.

"We got a deal, girl," Kristen said as she put down the guitar in the bright purple sofa at the Kozy Korner. She put out her arms in an invitation for a hug; one came, though it was quick and carried a greater distance than the ones they had shared earlier. When they separated, she briefly held onto Dana's arms - a safe zone. "Listen… I'm really sorry for sitting so close to you. I didn't have a hidden agenda. Honest."

"It's old news, Kristen… really. It's just a mental hang-up from something that happened a while ago. I was assaulted in a bus by some fuckhead who thought I was fair game. I was going home from a concert… I was buzzed and tired… I didn't notice him until it was too late. He came at me from behind and pressed his crotch into my ass… you know, rubbed himself against me."

"What a fucker… I hope you kicked his balls to Canada."

"I didn't… I ran away the second the bus came to a stop. Kristen, don't think about it, okay?" Dana said and pulled herself in for a second, stronger hug. A wistful smile graced her lips upon seeing the dark look of genuine concern on the star's face. "The coffee shop…?"

"Will never know what hit 'em," Kristen said and stepped aside so Dana could lead the way. "Hey, girl… didya ever talk to anyone about that?"

"No…"

"You should. It can fester. Believe me, I know."

The smile on Dana's lips was brief, but sincere. She studied the star's face for a few seconds before she ducked her head and shrugged. "Oh, I don't wanna bother you with it, Kristen… it's just an old thing."

"Girl… let's talk. It'll help, I promise," Kristen said in a voice that proved she meant it.

The two young women locked eyes for a moment before Dana moved her head in an near-imperceptible nod. "I'd like that," she said in a tiny voice as she began to shuffle towards the multi-colored door at the main entrance.

-*-*-*-
-*-*-*-
-*-*-*-

EPISODE 4 - CATHY

The following Tuesday.

A merry whistling in the hallway outside the main entrance of the Bookworm Sanctuary provided the first clue that someone had their sights set on spending a relaxing day surrounded by thousands of second-hand books; fumbling at the door offered solid proof.

Cathy Giardella moved inside going backwards to protect the fragile items she carried: a large paper bag from her sister's croissant bakery down the street, and a cardboard tray with four coffee-to-go mugs.

As always, the earthy woman was dressed in her favorite denim bib overalls and she had bare feet in sandals, but she had decided to leave the batik T-shirts at home in favor of one in rust-brown and sea-green promoting a folk rock album from the 1970s called A Whale Of A Time. The boyish haircut that reached down to her collar was perhaps growing a bit too long at her ears, but she considered it a criminal waste of money to go to the fancy salons for a measly inch of hair - and besides, she had kept it that way since she had gone into business on her own writing biographies for the country's regular folks.

Looking around with great interest, she was glad to see the old bookstore had bounced back with regards to the number of people shuffling around the aisles. Some were chatting, some were reading, and some were browsing the many books, discs and vinyl records.

The Poetry Jam and the flyers that Kristen Laneau had produced had created a buzz among the people visiting the community center that had led to a larger turnout - all colors, all ages and all groups of the rainbow family were represented among the customers, though women still outnumbered the men five to one.

When the aforementioned colorful woman with the odd hair and the many tattoos turned a corner and headed for the crates with the sheet music, she waved at Cathy who waved back with the hand holding the croissants. Moments later, Kristen's new BFF Dana Stepanek - who was just as colorful, though mostly purple - slipped into place next to the poet and glanced into the crates.

Cathy grinned and began to shuffle off to the office carrying the many special items she had picked up at the bakery. She had only just reached the doorjamb to the office when her telephone rang somewhere deep down her front pocket. "Oh, damn," she mumbled, unable to answer it with her hands full.

Sandra Gottfried and Felicity LaMarre sat at the metal desk playing cards when Cathy stepped inside. Both women looked up in a startled hurry when their quiet office was disturbed by what had to be an advancing army judging by the sounds and the fumbling to get inside.

"Hi, gals!  I just gotta…" Cathy said in her trademark smokey voice, balancing the bags and the tray while she strode over to the desk with the telephone ringing merrily.

Still startled, Sandra adjusted her square-framed spectacles and lowered her hand without thinking about her cards. "Uh… hi, Cathy," she said, looking at the white paper bags. When she turned her head to look at the vanguard of the supposed army, her blond ponytail whooshed across the back of her royal-blue blouse which was designed to resemble a baseball jersey from the local Major League team.

"Hey, Cathy. Your phone's ringing," Felicity said with a grin. The opportunity to read Sandra's cards was too good to miss, so she peeked at them in a sly, though casual fashion. She scrunched up her face when she realized there wasn't anything she could do to combat the better hand.

She was dressed in her indispensable decorated bell-bottom jeans and an electric blue shirt that was open all the way down to the top of her cleavage. A thin necklace with a gold pendant shaped like a teardrop created a stark, and fabulous, contrast to her dark skin. The teardrop moved around when she crossed the legs the other way.

"No kiddin'!  I just gotta… gotta… gotta borrow the desk for two seconds… yeah… like that," Cathy said and put the fragile bags and trays down on top of the rejected cards and the playing pile.

Sandra noticed that she had let her hand slip too far down, and she raised it at once. When she looked at Felicity, it didn't appear the administrator had had time to peek, at least judging by her scrunched-up expression.

When Cathy's hands were free, she unzipped the pocket in the bib and reached for her telephone. "It's Cathy… yeah?  No worries, you're welcome. Yeah. Thanks, buddy. You can buy me a six-pack of Bud one day. Yeah. Okay?  Yeah. Bye."

Sandra crossed her legs the other way and looked up at their guest. "Who was that, Cathy?"

"Oh, my neighbor. I helped him last night with a little dog-sitting problem. He had a hot date, but she didn't like dogs. So either it was a no-go for nookie or the mutt had to take a hike… the mutt went," Cathy said with a grin.

Felicity chuckled and put down her cards while they waited for the playing area to be cleared. "Say, whatcha got there?" she said, poking at the white bags. "The tray with the coffee-to-go mugs is kinda self-explanatory, but what's in there…?"

Cathy put the telephone back into her bib pocket and zipped it. "Oh, just a bunch of spelt buns and a mixed selection of croissants. Chocolate, Sandra…"

"Ouch… thanks for the warning. I can hear my jersey screaming in terror already," Sandra said with a grin. "Mmmm, they sure smell great, though."

"Yes, they're freshly made. Okay, the coffee…" Cathy said and tapped a fingernail on the plastic lid on one of the to-go mugs. "We never reached an agreement the other day on what kind of coffee you wanted to serve for the debate, so I had my sister make four basic kinds. Once we've chosen a favorite, I'll call her with the results and… well, she'll make plenty of that blend."

Felicity nodded and reached out to turn the tray with the coffee-to-go mugs so it would be moved back from the brink of disaster where Cathy had put it. "Great idea, Cathy… it's not gonna be the mocha latté dishwater, that's for sure."

"Actually," Sandra said and shuffled around on the swivel-chair, "that was my favorite…"

"Oh…"

Cathy chuckled at the exchange between the two women she knew had developed a big two-ways crush. Even if she hadn't known, it was all too evident in the way they behaved when they were close - nothing but shy glances and little touches. "You gals can have a catfight later, yeah?  First, I'll go into the cafeteria and get a couple a' piles of mugs and dessert plates so we're ready for later on."

"I'll go with you," Sandra said and wheeled back the swivel-chair, "I can carry more."

"I should feel insulted… but girl, you're only speakin' the truth," Cathy said and tried to flex her biceps that hadn't been there since her fortieth birthday.

Felicity and Cathy, both far softer and more rounded shapes than the lean, fit Sandra, chuckled and shot each other knowing smiles.

A knock on the doorjamb made all three women look at the open door where a woman in her mid-forties waited to be let in. When she was met by a "Please come in" from Felicity, she bent down and picked up a cardboard box. The bottom of the box sagged in the middle from the heavy load inside, so Sandra got up in a hurry - revealing that she wore a pair of royal-blue sweatpants that matched the baseball jersey - and helped the other woman move it over to the chair she had just vacated.

"Hello," Sandra said with a smile. "Our desk is kinda occupied as you can see… what do you have here?"

The woman in her mid-forties let out a sigh of relief when she let go of the heavy box. "Books that I'd like to ask if you would be interested in. They're my son's… he's in a steady relationship now so he didn't want to… well, I guess he didn't want his potential husband-to-be to find them. I haven't looked at them at all, but I believe most of them are… of an adult nature." The last words were delivered in a semi-whisper.

"Oooh!" Cathy said and moved over to peek into the box. "Oh…" came the prompt response when she realized the covers she could see were all graced by strapping, bare-chested young men wearing leather jackets - or less.

"Now," the customer said, "I realize the bookstore is mostly for women, but I thought that you could perhaps, oh… I don't know. That someone could find use for them. They weren't expensive, but they're in pretty good condition."

Felicity smiled at the customer and got up from the swivel-chair. "Let's take a look at them, Ma'am. All right. Sandra?"

Sandra's cheeks blushed red at the prospect of wading through erotic books, but she gulped down her embarrassment and turned to the customer. "Uh… let's see what's in here," she said and pulled a stack out of the box.

Like the customer had said, they were all in good condition with nary a broken spine or torn cover. Most of them came from the same series called Livin' Hard. Sandra couldn't hold back a strangled, embarrassed chuckle when she read the titles aloud: "Hot Boys & Big Toys, Hell Bent For Leather, Racing For Dawn, Tell Mike I Loved Him, Johnny's Well-oiled Machine…"

"Holy crap!" Cathy said, looking over Sandra's shoulder at the last book. "They're all about motorcycles and bikers in leather… yeah, I'm guessing they're of an adult nature," she continued, winking at Felicity.

"Twenty-seven books in total, Felicity," Sandra said, moving a finger up to loosen the hem of her jersey before the blush could spread that far.

"All right. Ma'am, how does forty dollars sound?" Felicity said and reached into the desk's bottom drawer to take her laptop so she could update the databases.

The customer smiled and took a step back from the box like the contents had the ability to bite her. "Oh, that would be just fine. Just fine, thank you. If I find more such books-"

"Feel free to come over with them. We have a large and varied group of customers here at the Bookworm Sanctuary," Felicity said and found forty dollars that she gave to the woman. "I can promise you these books will find new homes pretty quickly."

"Oh… oh, that's good. Thank you. Goodbye," the customer said and backed out of the office.

When they were alone, Cathy returned to the cardboard box and rummaged through it to see if she couldn't find just one book that had a female lead. "Eh. They don't know what they're missin'," she said with a shrug when the search proved to be a fruitless one.

"They probably say the same thing about us, Cathy," Felicity said with a grin. "How about clearing the desk so Sandra and I can continue the game before you go for the plates and stuff?  It's just impossible to test-sip coffee and play a decent game of cards at the same time… or so I've been told."

Sandra opened her mouth to counter that statement, but a wink from Felicity made her pipe down and let out a snigger instead.

---

Four hands and three-and-a-half empty coffee mugs later, Sandra, Felicity and Cathy all sat deep in thought with their faces suitably scrunched up. "All right, I yield," Sandra said and put down the empty mug she had been holding. "The mocha latté is great with the croissants, but not with the spelt buns. All in all, I like the caramel delicata best."

"The caramel delicata?" Cathy echoed in a tone that proved the coffee in question had been even lower on her wishlist than the mocha latté that she considered repulsive. "Well… I must admit I prefer the regular one called 'coffee, cream, sugar.' "

"But… Cathy, that's a bog-standard, dime a dozen coffee!"

"Exactly. Felicity?"

Felicity scrunched up her face even more as she looked at her two companions. She waved her hand back and forth as she tried to make up her mind. "I'll… oh… I'll go for the regular coffee as well."

The statement earned her a pair of wildly different responses from Cathy and Sandra. Where the former grinned and reached for her telephone, the latter let out an annoyed huff and adjusted her spectacles.

Once Cathy had found the number for her sister's bakery and pressed the appropriate button, she leaned back on the chair while she waited for it to be picked up. "Hi, it's me, Cathy Giardella. Would ya mind getting the boss lady on the horn?  Yeah, I'll hold," she said and grinned at the others. "Hi, Sis! The coffee blends were real hits. Yeah. Listen, we'd like to order eleven to-go mugs… no, better make it twelve… of number four, regular coffee with regular cream and regular sugar. Yeah, that's right. Yeah, we'll pick it up at…" - she looked at Felicity who mouthed Four O'clock - "…four this afternoon. Yeah. Okay, thanks… bye. Done!" she said and put the telephone back in her pocket.

"I still think the caramel delicata was the best," Sandra mumbled.

Felicity chuckled and reached out to offer the defeated party a hand in reconciliation. The hand was duly taken and squeezed, but it didn't do much for Sandra's mood, nor for her facial expression.

"So," Cathy said, "today's the day for the big debate on the neo-feminist manifest, huh?  Sounds mighty important, that's for sure. I still haven't decided if I want to join the debate circle or not… depends on the host, I think. Do you know when she's due, Felicity?"

"Nope."

"Okay. I'll make up my mind when she gets here," Cathy said and got up from the chair which was just as hard and uncomfortable as the others. Getting up, she had to wait for a few seconds before her lower back wanted to come along following the harsh treatment. "Do you need my help at the mo?"

"Not right now, thanks," Felicity said and leaned back in the swivel-chair. She put her hands behind her head to underline her hopes of blissful inactivity before the real work started. "Oh, later on, we'll need a hand unfolding a bunch of packing cases for the books. We've got a couple of carpenters coming over to take a look at those damn shelves that keep collapsing. Would that interest you?"

"Unfolding packing cases?  Sure. I think I'll mosey on down to the cafeteria and get started on the mugs and plates first, though. Sandra?"

"Yep… right behind you," Sandra said and got up.

"Great. Once we're done with that, I'll be browsing the books 'til you come… sorry, get there with the packing cases," Cathy said, winking at Sandra whose cheeks had already gained a red hue akin to a ripe tomato.

-*-*-*-

The alternative rock bursting out of Kristen and Dana's earphones and directly into their brains could be heard over most of the bookstore. The two colorful young women sat glued together on the floor below the purple sofa in the Kozy Korner; Kristen studied sheet music and Dana was engulfed in a novel.

Cathy was three aisles away from the epicenter but could hear the lyrics as plain as day. She shook her head as she ran her finger down the spines of the books on the shelves labeled Westerns. Although her number one favorite books were still historical romances, Westerns were a guilty pleasure for the former journalist; the plots weren't too taxing on the mind, and yet the stories were always written with a lot of soul that reflected the hard life the lead characters had to live. And besides, who could say no to tough gals in chaps and Stetsons, or school marms with an eye for the fairer sex?

Her finger reached a title that piqued her interest, and she slid the book off the shelf to look at the cover and the blurb. "Wildcat," she mumbled, "mmmm… mmmm… a determined saloon owner… mmmm… a feared female gunslinger… sold!"

Chuckling, she stuffed the ninety-nine cent paperback down her rear pocket while she continued along the row of books to find a few more.

After nearly thirty years in the business of stringing words together into forming coherent sentences, she had become choosy when it came to the technical quality of the books she read. She didn't mind far-fetched plots or whimsical developments, but factual errors, story threads that were left hanging, or characters changing names mid-story due to spelling mistakes would see her throw the book across the room without hesitation.

While she was happy to note the increase in releases that had taken place over the last decade, somehow the quality had dropped when the focus had turned to quantity. She had her favorite publishing houses, and she stuck with them. Even if she had never heard of the author, she would give the book a chance if it came from one of her favored houses.

The music died down from one beat to the next. Cathy let out a sigh of relief and peeked around the edge of the bookcase to see what had caused the respite: Kristen appeared to be showing Dana something on her telephone.

"Hey, Cathy… did you have time to help us with the packing cases?" Felicity said somewhere behind the older woman.

"Yeah, sure," Cathy said and turned around. She came to a dead stop when her eyes fell on the pile of cardboard sheets that Felicity had just put down on the smooth linoleum floor. "Holy shit… I thought you meant three or four cases!  That's… that's… how many?" she continued in a voice that grew in pitch as she spoke.

"Twenty-five. And they're only for this side of this aisle," Felicity said with a grin.

"Twenty-five. Shit. Okay, I can't back out… but I'm telling you right now," Cathy said and shuffled over to the nearest chair, "I'm not standing up while I'm working on assembling twenty-five packing cases. If you wanna do that, be my guest… but me?  No how, no way, no ma'am."

Felicity laughed out loud and pointed at the other chair. "Are you nuts?  That one's got my name written all over it!"

---

Ten minutes later, they had only made it through a quarter of the pile of cardboard sheets. Cathy sighed as she took in the rest of the hard work she had to expose her delicate fingers to.

Grabbing the next sheet, she folded it one way to get the inner bottom in place, then the other way to make the wings stand up. After that, she had to fold the left wing once more to get the lid in place. Once that was done, she had to hold onto the left section while she folded the right wing to get the connecting pieces to line up properly. The outer bottom came last with two tabs that needed to fit into two slots; one on either side. To finish it, she had to flip it around and give it a shake to see if the connecting pieces did in fact connect with the other pieces. If they didn't, the packing case would be too loose and she could start over.

"Goddamn…" she croaked, staring at the completed case. "This is gonna kill me before the day is over… can I get a book token for this, huh?  Huh, Felicity?"

Felicity grinned and put down a finished case. "We can talk about it. I suppose you could get a ninety-nine cent token for it."

"Damn, girl, I deserve a ten dollar token!"

"Don't push your luck, Sister," Felicity said in a mock growl as she took the next sheet of cardboard.

"What's Sandra doing, anyway?  Wasn't she supposed to join us?"

"She's still doing the dishes. The plates and mugs the peeps down at the cafeteria gave you were ugly… real ugly. Hell, they were ugh-ly!"

Shaking her head, Cathy put down the case she had just finished. It wasn't as tight as the other one, but it would have to do. "Yeah, yeah… oh… wouldya look at that."

"I can't see around the damn case…"

"Lisa-May and her new squeeze just walked in the door," Cathy said, grabbing the opportunity to take a rest while Felicity couldn't see her. "I forget her name… Dora?  Sally?  Mesalina?"

"Adrienne."

"Adrienne, right. Well, get this… she and Lisa-May…"

When Cathy didn't continue, Felicity lowered the case to see for herself. "She and Lisa-May, what?"

"Are wearing identical rings."

"What?!  No way…" Felicity said and whipped her head around so fast her dark-brown hair flew out to the side, and her teardrop-shaped pendant got lodged underneath her right lapel. She zoomed in on the two women who came strolling towards her with their hands entwined. True enough, they both wore golden bands on their right ring fingers.

"Uh-huh," Cathy said, nodding in an exaggerated fashion to prove the point. "Big way. They're right there, girl."

The gray being known to the world as Lisa-May Farrington walked hand in hand with the curly-haired woman who had stolen her heart in a matter of hours, Adrienne Gryszkowski. Although Lisa-May still dressed conservatively for the most part - gray shoes, a gray skirt and a gray blouse - she wore a dusty green cardigan that matched her eyes well. As always, her short hair lay flat and wet-combed on her head.

Adrienne wore stronger colors in the shape of burnt-orange ballet flats, a long-sleeved T-shirt in a matching color, and a pure-white silk scarf thrown casually around her neck. To round off the ensemble, she wore a pair of off-white, high-waisted slacks with a braided strip of orange leather that ran through the belt hoops. On this day, she wore contact lenses instead of her regular horn-rimmed frame.

Cathy cocked her head when it dawned on her that Adrienne was in fact a striking, and certainly a well-dressed, woman. Her form-fitting slacks accentuated her legs well, and her blouse did a good job of showing off her prominent peaks. On top of that - literally - her pretty, girl-next-door face blossomed to life without the heavy spectacles getting in the way. "Oh, Lisa-May, you rascal you… ya hit a home run, didn'tcha?  Hell yeah, ya did. Knocked it clean outta the park. Hiya," she said and put out her hand.

Lisa-May rolled her eyes but shook the hand offered to her. "Hello, Cathy. Still with the one-track mind, I hear."

"Who, me?  Hey, girls, what's up with those gorgeous engagement rings?  When the hell were you gonna tell us?"

"They're not engagement rings, Cathy."

"Well, ya coulda fooled me…"

Adrienne smiled and gave Lisa-May's hand a little squeeze. "They're soulmate rings, Miss Giardella."

"Awwwwww!" Cathy cried and slapped her palms to her ample bosom. "That's so neat!  Ya gonna make me cry now, girls!"

Lisa-May duly rolled her eyes again before she turned to Felicity. "Hello… oh no, are you closing?  If you are, please allow me to say that I've had enough wonderful hours here to last me a lifetime. All good things must come to an end. Such is the nature of life. One day, we shall all die… and I-"

"No!" Felicity said the first moment she could get a word in edgewise. She guffawed over the stream of words that came from the woman who had always been quiet to the point of near-apathy. "We're not closing, Lisa-May… we're just rearranging the shelves to protect the most sensitive books. We're gonna have some carpenters over later today who'll begin fixing the damn things."

"Oh…"

"Oh," Adrienne said and gave her sweetheart's hand another little squeeze, "that's such a good idea!"

Felicity nodded while she waited for the rest of the flood of words she knew would stream out of the curly-haired woman. When nothing further came, she furrowed her brow and looked at Lisa-May who simply smiled.

"Felicity," Lisa-May said, returning the earlier squeeze. "We'll gladly help you rearrange the books, but I'm afraid there's something Adrienne and I need to do first. Namely sit at the Kozy Korner and bask in each other's presence while we read a novel or two."

"Ah… I see," Felicity said, nodding once more. "Well, go on, then. We're not stopping you. Oh, Kristen and her new friend are over there… it might be a little loud."

Lisa-May and Adrienne smiled at the two older women before they strolled onto the purple sofa at the Kozy Korner.

Cathy observed the way they held each other until they turned the corner and went out of sight. "Felicity… can you imagine those two in bed on their wedding night?  After you dahling. No, after you dahling. No, after you dahling. No, after you…"

"Aw, that was just on the wrong side of unfunny, Cathy. They're great together."

"What are you talking about, girl?  That was funny!" Cathy said and let out a saucy chuckle. The laughter died down when she happened to look at the pile of cardboard sheets they still had to go through. Sighing, she took the next one and began to fold it.

-*-*-*-

A quarter to four in the afternoon, the Bookworm Sanctuary had been readied for the coming debate. Felicity and Sandra had wheeled the portable fiber glass walls into position so the people participating in the talk could have a little privacy, and eleven chairs had been placed along the rim of a round table which seemed apropos considering the nature of the debate.

The table had been put up in a secluded corner of the Bookworm Sanctuary, though with the increased activity of the bookstore, the customers would still be close by. It had already drawn some attention from a few regulars, but when they heard which kind of debate it would be, they all preferred to settle down with their books instead.

After putting a stack of white napkins on the round table - and fanning them out in a butterfly spread so they would be neat and inviting - Felicity dusted off her hands and took a step back to survey the situation. "Hmmm," she said and moved back to the table to adjust the napkins once more.

Cathy stood behind the two younger women to supervise the work and to provide clever comments and throwaway one-liners while the others toiled away at moving the walls and chairs. "Gee, don't you think they need just one more nudge there, Felicity?  One of 'em is off-center compared to the ones closest to it… at least an eighth of an inch. We can't have that, can we?"

"Shut up," Felicity said out of the corner of her mouth.

"Ohhhh… that's no way to talk to an old lady!"

Sandra knew from experience that once Cathy and Felicity got into a mock-bickering row, they wouldn't stop until the cows came home, so she put her hands in the air to quell the silly game before it could get started for real. "Please… can we put a lid on it?  It won't be long before the first guests arrive. Felicity, do you want me to wheel in the trolley with the mugs and plates?"

Felicity chuckled at the look on the blonde's face which was a mix of annoyance and impatience. "Go ahead, Sandra. Don't forget the sugar bowl. Of course, the old lady there can't walk that far, or else she could have helped you."

"Oh, stab me in the ass, why dontcha!" Cathy said and let out a belly laugh.

"Don't tempt me… don't tempt me, girl!"

Sandra just scrunched up her face and shot the two others a look of pure exasperation.

The battle of wits was interrupted by the main entrance opening. Several women of all ages entered the bookstore and began to look around for the spot where the debate was to be held. One by one, they came inside and took off their coats and jackets while they glanced at the many aisles and the countless second-hand books the Bookworm Sanctuary had on offer.

Sandra held up a stern index finger at her two companions to say they better pipe down or else. Spinning around on her heel, she put a broad smile on her face and shuffled over to the guests. "Hello and welcome to the Bookworm Sanctuary!  I'm Sandra Gottfried. I presume you're all here for the debate?" When she was met by a selection of nods and grunts, she stepped aside and pointed at the round table which was just visible beyond the fiber glass walls. "If you'll step over there, please. We have tea and pastries ready now. The coffee will be here in a moment."

"Wow, girl," Cathy whispered, leaning in towards Felicity's ear so she didn't have to speak up, "she's got that hostess thing down pat, huh?  She's so damn fine, rippling muscles and all. Didya notice she's wearing a baseball jersey today…?"

"Uh… yeah?  I fail to see what that's got to do with anyth-"

"When the hell are you gals gonna make it out of the dugout and onto first base?" Cathy said with a lopsided grin.

"Well, who says we haven't been there already?"

"You forget who ya talking to?  I know you, Felicity… you'll need a note of approval from the President before you'll get even remotely frisky."

"I beg your pardon!  Find you own damn cutie-pie to get frisky with!" Felicity said and nudged Cathy's side.

Sandra had heard some, but not all, of the exchange, and she responded by shooting Cathy and Felicity a pair of cocked eyebrows as she went past them leading the guests to the round table. Before long, she had wheeled the trolley behind the fiber glass walls and offered the guests the quality selection of spelt buns and butter croissants.

---

Lisa-May and Adrienne barged through the main entrance five minutes past four each carrying a large cardboard tray with coffee-to-go mugs. The beverages were distributed in a hurry among the seven guests at the round table before the two women pulled back to find Felicity.

The college professor who was supposed to host the debate hadn't shown up yet, and Felicity was slowly getting worried that she herself, or one of the other regulars, would be forced into assuming that role without having the academic skills needed to do it properly. When Lisa-May and Adrienne came over to her and Cathy - who were both leaning against the shelf at the public message board - she took the receipt handed to her by the formerly gray woman. "Great work, Lisa-May. Thanks a bunch for driving down there. Did you have any hiccups?"

"No, everything ran smoothly," Lisa-May said with an appropriate shaking of the head. "I've been there often enough to know which sales clerk to use. He was there so it all worked out just fine. It was quite full, though. Wasn't it, darling?"

"It was," Adrienne said and sought out Lisa-May's hand.

"Awwwww… dahling," Cathy said, but it earned her an electric blue elbow in the ribs.

Despite her objections to Cathy's comment, Felicity couldn't stop a broad, goofy grin from spreading over her face. To have someone like Lisa-May - who had been a quiet, brooding woman for as long as everyone had known her - find happiness could very well be the proudest achievement in the history of the Bookworm Sanctuary. That, and all the other little moments of glory that had taken place since they had put up the shrine for Aphrodite, the ancient Greek Goddess of Love. "All that's missing is the lecturer. She hasn't shown up yet," Felicity said; her smile fading into a shrug.

Adrienne's lips formed an O and she reached up to place a finger on her lips. "Oh, we saw someone who could be a college professor or a minister's wife just outside the community center. She was on the phone with someone."

"A minister's wife?!" Cathy echoed, trying hard to suppress a loud laugh.

"Yes," Adrienne said and nodded vigorously. "Oh, I can't describe it… you'll know what I mean if you see her, Miss Giardella."

Chuckling, Cathy scratched her forehead. "Hell, I definitely need to be on the lookout for any ministers' wives who happen to enter the Bookworm Sanctuary. Oh yeah, that'll be a sight to see, I can tell ya. We may need to practice our mouth-to-mouth resuscitation techniques ahead of time."

Adrienne and Lisa-May sniggered and leaned in to rub shoulders - they were way clear of Cathy in that particular Olympic discipline.

"Let's hope it's her, no matter how she looks. All right… thanks, girls," Felicity said and pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning against. She smiled at Lisa-May and Adrienne who shuffled over to the Kozy Korner. "Cathy, I'll be in the office until the professor arrives. Call me, yeah?"

Cathy nodded and followed Felicity away from the wall. "I will… unless it happens when I'm on the can. I have to go something fierce. Hey, which reminds me… the makeshift door stop we got in there works really well. That odd contraption underneath the frame actually does stop the door from swinging open… I didn't think it would, but it does."

"Sandra insisted on it… she blocked the busted keyhole as well. She spent half an hour rolling up a sheet of tin foil into little balls that she squeezed in there with four toothpicks that she had taped together."

"I suspected as much," Cathy said with a grin. The tide was high so she had to cross her legs in order for it to remain on the inside. "Oh, can't talk now… gotta hustle. Bye!"

---

Once mother nature's call had been heeded in appropriate fashion, Cathy came back out of the bathroom a lighter woman. Looking around while she wiped the last water off her fingers by rubbing them against her denim overalls, she spotted a woman by the door who could only be a college professor or, like Adrienne had said, a minister's wife.

The woman who appeared to be in her late forties was dressed in a gloomy, dark-brown pant suit over a dark-tan shirt with wide lapels. She was of average height and size, and the sensible shoes and the tight bun in her hair that gave her tall forehead an odd, stretched appearance didn't provide her with any charisma. She carried an old-fashioned leather briefcase that was nearly dropped by accident when she pulled her left sleeve back to check the time.

"Huh," Cathy grunted to herself. "Like I predicted… a dry creek college professor. Ugh, should I attend the debate?  Or not?  Eh… shoot, I don't know…"

She took a step back to get out of sight but kept an eye on the professor who was still waiting alone at the door. "The coffee and croissants are free… but the lecture's probably gonna be boring… I could get a little female interaction going… but I doubt any of the others play on my team…" she mumbled, keeping a running score of the yeas and nays. It was pretty even which made her come to a conclusion of: "Oh, why the hell not?"

Screwing a grin on her face, she stepped back into view and shuffled closer to the professor. Before she could make it all the way there - it was nearly thirty feet, after all - Felicity and Sandra had spotted the lecturer and had come out with their hands extended ahead of them.

Cathy responded at once and made an instant forty-five degree left-hand turn that would take her past the college professor and back around the fiber glass walls. There were still four seats available, so she laid claim to one of them by pulling it a short distance back from the table before she shuffled over to the trolley. Grinning, she snatched a coffee-to-go mug and one of her sister's prized butter croissants, and noted with great satisfaction that she had taken one with marzipan and chipped almonds. "Hi, everybody," she said to the others as she sat down at the round table. "I'm Cathy. Been waiting long?"

"We have," one of the guests said. Like the six others, the early-forty-something woman had an air of detached intellectualism about her that didn't sit all that well with Cathy - and she had been right, none of them was even remotely Family.

Biting into the croissant and tasting the high-quality, homemade marzipan, Cathy nodded a silent reply. She wanted to say more, but Felicity, Sandra and the professor walked around the corner of the enclosure before she had time to swallow the bite.

"Good afternoon, everybody," Felicity said, putting a hand on the professor's shoulder. "This is Professor Melissa Kramer. She's here to lead the lecture and debate on her recently published paper, The Neo-Feminist Manifest. Isn't that so, Professor Kramer?"

"Indeed I am, Miss LaMarre," Melissa said in a voice that was as dry, dull and lifeless as Cathy had feared - she didn't even have a fascinating accent to liven up the proceedings. "Pleased to meet you all. I fear I am very poor at remembering names, so before we get started, I'll write down the names of those present so I won't accidentally forget it or use the wrong one. Thank you, Miss LaMarre. I'll take it from here."

"All right," Felicity said and took a step back. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, just tell Sandra and she'll pass it on."

The Professor's lips creased but they never went beyond dull, gray and lifeless. It was supposed to be a smile, but it was a pitiful excuse for one. "I shall. Thank you, Miss LaMarre."

Sandra's smile was far more genuine as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the round table. She produced a coffee-to-go mug featuring the caramel delicata that she had bribed Dana to run down and buy for her. It had cost her five book tokens, but it was worth it.

Letting out a small sigh, Cathy bit into the marzipan croissant to cover the sinking feeling inside her. The debate was going to be just as dull as she had feared it would be, but now it was too late to back out.

"Before we start," Sandra said and got up, which earned her an annoyed look by the professor who had been interrupted in preparing the list of names, "would you like a croissant or a spelt bun, Professor Kramer?  They're really good-"

"No thank you, Miss Gottfried. I don't eat pastries of any kind."

"Oh… okay," Sandra said and sat down again in a rare moment of defeat. "Well, all right, how about a mug of tea or really good coffee, then?  We have regular-"

"I'm sorry, but I'm allergic to coffee beans. And I don't drink tea."

Stumped for good, Sandra folded her hands on the table for a brief moment before she moved them down into her lap. She smiled, but it was a puzzled one.

Professor Kramer shot the fit blonde in the royal-blue baseball jersey a pointed look before she began to ask the guests their names so she could have her cue sheet ready for when the questions or comments would arrive. From one word to the next, she came to a dead stop and stared out into the room just before she would have asked Cathy.

Looking up in surprise at the unexpected silence, Cathy spotted Kristen and Dana peeking around the corner of one of the fiber glass walls. She winked at them, and Sandra gave Dana a big, bouncing thumbs-up for getting the good coffee. The gestures were responded to in kind.

It was clear Professor Kramer wasn't too keen on having the colorful, young women attend the debate, because she didn't go on until Kristen and Dana had shuffled back to the crates containing the vinyl records they had been browsing earlier.

Cathy scrunched up her face, as did Sandra. They locked eyes and sent each other a silent message that said it looked to be a debate where the professor preferred to preach to the choir instead of getting new impulses.

After having written down the names of the people present - misspelling Cathy with a K - Professor Kramer put down the pencil and looked at the women at the round table who appeared eager to hear what she had to say. "Now that we're alone, I'd like to introduce myself properly. I am Professor Melissa Kramer, Bachelor in Early Feminist Literature, Ph.D. in gender politics and sociological studies, author of several books on gender roles then and now, and feminist scholar from the Lambrecht University in Zurich, Switzerland. I have been teaching feminist studies for the past twelve years, and- Miss Giardella, you have a question already?"

"I do," Cathy said and put down her hand. "I'd like to know if all your knowledge and experience comes from your scholarly studies, or if you have marched for women's rights in third world countries and elsewhere with the rest of us old-style feminists?  You know, the activists?"

A collective gasp was heard from the other guests, Sandra included. Everyone's head whipped back to the Professor whose lips had been reduced to narrow, gray lines in her face.

"Like I said, Miss Giardella, I am a feminist scholar," Melissa said hoarsely.

"Ah. So you haven't marched."

The Professor's chin trembled and a nervous tic developed near her right eye. Clearing her throat, she returned to her papers to get back on track though her jaw kept moving like she was cursing the older woman in the denim bib overalls. "These are the themes I'd like to discuss today. Pass them on, please," she said and sent a stack of papers around the table.

Sandra took hers and began to study it closely, but Cathy only glanced at the first few bullets when she received her copy: Beating Down the Patriarchy - The Rise of Woman and Man's Objections - Female Stereotypes as defined by Man (The Kitten, The MILF, The old Witch, and others) - Women's Sexuality and how it's dictated by the Male Gaze.

"Oh, boy," Cathy said under her breath. She couldn't wait for the bone dry professor to mangle the last bullet point in particular, but none of the others showed much promise either despite the important, and timely, topics.

---

She had been right. Twenty minutes into the round table debate, all but the most faithful guest had lost interest in the professor's long-winded, lifeless points of argument. Though everyone around the table tried to add their two cents' worth when the debate strayed into topics important to them, it was clear by the long stares and deep sighs that carried on a majority of the time that it wasn't the world's most rewarding experience.

Even Sandra appeared to have had enough. Her entire attention was directed at the little flowers she was doodling on the piece of paper they had been given containing the points of discussion.

Cathy had zoned out even further than that. She only listened to the dry professor with one ear, and it wasn't even her good one. Instead of paying attention to the admittedly interesting current subject of the debate - how badly men reacted to the growing presence of women in jobs that were exclusive to men in the past - she went on a little journey in time inside her mind; back to the days where the inextinguishable fire of the righteous burned brightly inside her.

In 1973, she and ten thousand other feminist activists marched on Washington to show the government that the times were a-changin'. When they reached the spot where Martin Luther King, jr. had held his landmark I Have A Dream speech a decade earlier, they burned their bras on a huge bonfire to show the Women's Liberation wasn't merely a fad like the conservative critics said, but a society-altering event that could not, and would not be contained or put back in the box - or closet for that matter.

For the seventeen-year-old Catherine Giardella, a practicing Catholic and the second daughter of a traditionalist Italian-American patriarch who wouldn't dream of voting for anyone but the Republicans, it was an experience that turned everything on its head.

The following years saw her visit many camps and festivals that were organized by feminist groups. They were exclusively for women of all ages and colors, although the Women's Lib still seemed to be mostly a WASPy thing at the time. The camps were examples of true Sisterhood where every decision was taken in plenum, where every task was carried out collectively by the women with the greatest skills in that particular field, and where every tent was open for anyone who needed someone to talk to about any given topic - except perhaps boyfriend trouble.

It wasn't all perfect, of course. With some of the camps and festivals reaching the size of towns, it was inevitable that problems would crop up. Some women would get loaded or high, or both; some would get lost for days trying to find the way back to their tent or hut, and others would make a living out of stealing from their Sisters. The camp and festival councils would hold endless plenum meetings where they couldn't even decide on what to call the daily work sheets since 'Agenda' was a masculine term, and now and then, Lady Luck would put a group of women together who happened to have synchronized periods - cue plenty of histrionics.

Cathy chuckled to herself when she thought back to the countless fun, odd, crazy, wild situations she had found herself in back then. One event in particular had stayed with her for all those years: Most camps welcomed partial or full nudity, and a large number of women would always take advantage of that by walking around in the buff. That was all well and good, but in one of the camps she had visited, it created insurmountable problems when the benches in the mess tents proved to be untreated instead of planed planks - thus, three hundred blankets and cushions had to be bought from a local company at the cost of nearly two thousand dollars which was a huge sum of money in 1977.

A festival in August, 1978 marked the first time she sampled the sweet fruits of Woman. She was twenty-two, and a miserable, frustrated, mistaken hetero for whom sex was a grim chore, but the train to a far better, and certainly more rewarding, life had been set in motion one evening in the tent when her roomie finally ran out of patience and told her to shut the hell up about all her 'stupid boy stuff' and come to terms with the fact that she wasn't straight. She already knew deep down, of course, but it had helped to hear it from someone who was part of that mysterious, scary other world.

The first time she felt a woman's lips brushing against her own, her heart had performed a double-beat that left no doubt as to her true nature - even if she was frightened out of her mind at the time because of the implications. The first time she felt the slender, graceful fingers of a woman caressing her body intimately, it had given her such a fiery jolt of pleasure that all memories of the dull, frustrating sex she had endured with her coarse, crude boyfriends were erased from her mind. The strong bonds, the warmth and the inherent understanding - and the occasional high-strung drama - that she discovered among her new circle of like-minded companions meant that she had never looked back since that glorious summer of 1978.

On a grander scale, it was too good to last, and it didn't. When the 1970s became the 1980s, traditional masculine values like money and power returned to the nation's focus, and the young, urban professionals were born. Many of the victories earned by the feminist faithful were pushed to the side or simply forgotten in the eternal quest for green bills, red cars and white powder that followed - not to mention the garish dress code of short skirts, stilettos, big hair and even bigger shoulder pads - but it had been the results of the tireless work in the previous decade that allowed women access to the executive suites as managers and CEOs for major companies instead of just being secretaries or hostesses whose most important task was to look cute while she put two spoons of sugar into the boss' coffee.

It wasn't until the 1990s that the spirit of the 1970s returned; the second wave was fueled by a growing environmental consciousness and the important fight for equal rights for all women around the world regardless of color, creed, caste or religion. By then, Cathy had slipped into a mentor role for the younger generation, even if the early-twenty-somethings of the time were all far more confident and worldly than she had been at that age.

Sighing, she returned to the present and shuffled around on the chair which had proven to be just as uncomfortable as the others. The professor kept talking about the current topic, but even though Cathy had things to say that she had learned in the real world, she couldn't be bothered to speak up - the scheduled break couldn't come soon enough.

---

She had almost fallen asleep when she cracked open an eyelid at the odd sound of someone knocking on one of the fiber glass walls. The Professor stopped talking and let out an annoyed huff which made everyone at the round table turn to look at the woman who had knocked.

She appeared to be in her late fifties, and she wore blue canvas tennis shoes, dark-green two-button jeans and a green-and-blue-checkered flannel shirt that hung loose over a white tank top. She had her graying hair up in a bun, but a few fashionable bangs fell down onto her forehead.

"Hello everybody, I'm June Costanza," the woman said, clutching a small purse. She had a worried, almost anxious look in her eyes as she glanced at the people sitting at the round table. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I had car trouble. May I join the debate, or is it too late?"

Professor Kramer let out another huff that proved she hated interruptions of any kind. "Well," she said in a frosty tone, "I suppose you can join us. I will say that you have missed quite a few important topics."

"Oh, is there a test at the end?" June said as she hurried over to the last available chair.

Cathy couldn't hold back the strong laugh that bubbled to the surface, and the cold look of sublime annoyance it created on Melissa Kramer's face made it even better. She waved at the new woman who duly waved back.

Pulling out the chair, June sat down and put the purse on the table. She nodded a quick hello to the other women at the debate, but only Sandra put out her hand and introduced herself.

"Now that we're all here," Professor Kramer said in a pointed fashion as she shoved the notes of the debate over to June Costanza, "I shall continue with the next topic, the patriarchy in the government and how we can make sure more women will run for-"

Hearing the details of the next topic, Cathy zoned out all over again but kept an eye on the new woman who was sitting opposite her at the round table. June Costanza's features had softened due to the date on her birth certificate, but there was something curiously familiar about her deep-brown eyes, even if the anxious sheen that still played in them added some distance. No bells were ringing yet, but Cathy kept digging for the connection - it was bound to come to her sooner or later.

-*-*-*-

June Costanza turned out to be a woman who had plenty of good points to make about the various topics of discussion covered in the debate. It was soon revealed that she had hands-on experience from working as a volunteer at one of the city council's hotlines, but the fact didn't enamor her in the Professor's eyes.

Cathy leaned back on her uncomfortable chair and tried to get her brain cells to rub together so they could create the energy needed to tell her where she had met June before. Not only were her eyes familiar, her voice was too. A harmonic timber which wasn't too high-pitched or too flat; it was just right.

She didn't know her from her current line of work as an independent biographer, she was sure of that - and worse, if she was unable to remember such a good-looking woman only a few years after meeting her, she really needed to find a nice, tall bridge somewhere to take the big leap from.

It wasn't from her infrequent visits to the squash court near where she lived, either. She had been an avid weekend player for years until her heart began to give her some trouble when she reached her early fifties. The decrease in activity increased her girth which in turn lessened her interest in physical activities of any kind. Now, her center of gravity was so low she couldn't even go into the squash court's viewing enclosure without breaking a sweat - and besides, though June seemed fit, she didn't appear to be the sporty type.

Cathy had to push her thoughts aside when the professor sent a new piece of paper around the table. When it reached her, she groaned inwardly at the headline: 'List and describe Woman's five best qualities as seen from your point of view.'

She looked across the table at Sandra who was already busy writing down the five items with her own ball point pen. June seemed less enthusiastic, and she happened to look up and lock eyes with Cathy. They both grinned, and now Cathy was dead certain she knew the other woman from somewhere.

When the professor put a handful of pencils onto the table, Cathy took one out of pure mischief. If the minister's wife wanted Woman's five best qualities, she would get 'em.

---

Once she was done, Cathy turned the paper over so nobody would be able to read what she had written before she could drop the bombshell. Some of the others weren't done yet, so she had time to study June's face.

She was sure she hadn't met her at the newspaper where she had worked for more than twenty years. June wasn't a newspaper-type at all; she laughed, she smiled, she offered humorous comments and anecdotes, and she had a lightness of being about her. The newspaper people Cathy had known weren't like that at all - rampant cynicism was the mood that typically dominated the editorial floors.

Unlike the other people at the debate, save for Sandra, of course, the Vibe was strong with June. She had that certain air about her that hardly anyone outside the rainbow family carried. Even so, Cathy was sure she didn't know June from the local dives, middle class hangouts and upscale establishments.

"So," professor Kramer said as she rose from her chair, "the five minutes are up. Let's hear how you rank the five qualities you deem most important in us all. Miss Gottfried, would you mind going first?"

Sandra smiled and reached for her paper. "Not at all, Professor Kramer," she said and adjusted her square-frame spectacles. "All right… I wrote them in alphabetical order. Compassion, empathy, sincerity, strength to rise above adversity, and finally willingness to learn and evolve."

"Oh, that's an excellent list, Miss Gottfried. I'm glad you said strength. That'll be the next topic we'll touch upon," the professor said and almost broke out in a smile. The smile faded at once when she turned to Cathy who couldn't stop grinning. "Miss Giardella, I can see you're dying to share your list… please go ahead."

"Okie-dokie," Cathy said and leaned forward. She put her finger on the piece of paper to trail the short words she had written. "Eyes. Boobs. Ass. Legs. And woman's number one asset is, has always been, and will always be the vagina. Can't live without it… don't wanna live without it. I thought about writing clitoris instead, but the whole area down there is just too much fun to simply highlight one aspect of it."

Another shocked gasp echoed around the table. Most of the women were frozen in instant paralysis; Sandra blushed fire-engine red and held onto the table like she was afraid she'd faint if she didn't, and June was clearly struggling to keep back a laugh. When it couldn't be contained any longer, she leaned her head back and let out a braying burst of laughter that made the whole bookstore come to a dead stop and stare at the round table.

Professor Kramer was one of those frozen in paralysis over Cathy's wit. She tried several times to get her clenched jaw to release so she could speak, but all she could produce were inarticulate grunts. With her facial tic thumping like a rubber ball around her right eye, it took her nearly twenty seconds to croak: "Let's take a break."

-*-*-*-

The five-minute break stretched out to ten, then fifteen minutes. It wasn't until the professor's nervous tic had receded enough for her to continue that she staggered back to the round table. She drew an audible sigh of relief when the difficult Cathy wasn't there.

Sandra had wanted to stay to the end of the debate so she had remained at her post. When Melissa Kramer staggered over to the table, she put a hand in the air to catch the professor's attention. "Professor Kramer, Miss Giardella told me to tell you that she was sorry for upsetting you, and that she and Miss Costanza-"

"I don't believe that for a moment!" Melissa cried in a screechy voice. Looking embarrassed, she cleared her throat to get a grip. "You're a nice woman, Miss Gottfried. Please don't cover for the bad people among us."

"Uh… okay. I wasn-"

"Let's go on, shall we?" the professor said with a voice that once again strayed into the screechy. Her tic returned for a brief moment before she had everything under control.

Sandra drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Crinkling her nose, she sucked on her front teeth almost like she was considering bailing on the debate after all. When the professor started talking about the next topic on the original list, 'Female stereotypes as defined by Man,' she decided to stay since it was a subject she had intimate knowledge of. As a successful, independent businesswoman, she had often had to deal with men who couldn't grasp that her skills and drive were as strong as theirs though she was a petite blonde with youthful features and a ponytail.

---

Up at the back of the bookstore, Cathy cleaned one half of the bright purple sofa at the Kozy Korner and patted the seat to indicate to June that she should sit down. "Here, girl… slap your butt onto this plush cushion. Much better than those rock-hard chairs down there."

Lisa-May and Adrienne were still there with the books they had found - Caroline A. McLaughlin's drama Will The Stars Twinkle For Me When I Die for Lisa-May, and Harriet Walton's science-fiction epic Journey To Planet Earth for Adrienne - and they scooted down into the far corner to make room for the new guest.

"In a sec, Miss Giardella," June said and put out her hand. "Hello, ladies, I'm June Costanza. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Looking up, Lisa-May took the hand and gave it a polite shake. "Good afternoon, Miss Costanza… I'm Lisa-May Farrington."

"And I'm Adrienne Gryszkowski. We're together," Adrienne said, hooking her arm inside that of her companion after she had shaken June's hand. It didn't take long before Lisa-May leaned in to rub shoulders and exchange sniggers with the curly-haired woman.

"Oh, how nice!" June said with a grin.

"Yeah," Cathy said, "we've got a lot of that going on. Sandra Gottfried and the administrator also got a nice thing going, and the tattooed girl you may have seen when you got here also found a new squeeze right here in the bookstore."

Lisa-May cleared her throat and leaned over to look past June. "Actually, that's not true, Cathy. Kristen and Dana are just good friends."

"Ah, that's just until Dana finds out how exciting-"

"In that case, do you want to go on a exploratory date with my downstairs neighbor?  He's single and bathes at least once a week. You may find out how excit-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it," Cathy said with a dismissive wave. Lisa-May harrumphed and returned to her book.

June chuckled at the exchange as she sat down next to Cathy. "Miss Giardella, I know you'll probably think this is the world's cheesiest come-on, but…"

"Oh, I don't know… I've heard a couple of five-star ones. Hell, I've uttered a couple of five-star ones. And please, call me Cathy. I get all nervous-like when someone calls me Miss Giardella… I think I'm about to be busted for possession."

June grinned and shuffled around to get comfortable on the purple cushions. "All right. It's strange, but I feel I already know you from somewhere, Cathy."

"I'm glad it's not just me," Cathy said and briefly put a hand on June's leg. "You know, for the past hour, I've been racking my brain trying to figure out where I know you from!"

"Oh, really?" June said and crossed her legs.

When Lisa-May noticed June's top knee was pointing at Cathy instead of away from her, she let out a grunt but decided not to interfere or even make a comment.

"I hope you've come up with something," June continued, "because I must admit I haven't. I recall meeting you in an office environment somewhere, sometime, but…"

Grunting, Cathy narrowed her eyes and tried to picture June in such an environment. Something did stir inside her brain, but it wouldn't come to the forefront no matter how hard she tried to bribe her brain cells. "Oh, I haven't even made it that far. I've discarded the idea of seeing you at the squash court, at the newspaper where I worked, at any of the bars around here-"

"Oh, that's it!  I've worked for a newspaper!  Were you at the Seattle Sentinel?"

Cathy's face lit up like a little sun at the first part of June's statement, but the second part made it fall back into the same, old frown. "Ah… that would be a no. I worked at the Herald here in town for a good number of years."

"Oh… darn."

"No shit, you really worked for a newspaper?  I gotta say, you've got a much nicer personality than most newspaper people."

"Why… thank you," June said with a faint blush rolling onto her cheeks.

The snort that came out of Lisa-May proved she had recognized it as the opening gambit in the chess game known as The Big Flirt.

June didn't seem to mind as she shuffled around once more on the purple sofa like she wanted to get closer to Cathy. "Say, do you have a water cooler anywhere around here?  I could use a cool drink of-"

"Water cooler!  Oh, hell yeah!" Cathy cried and smacked her hand down onto the plush cushions with such force it made June, Lisa-May and Adrienne all jump a foot in the air out of sheer surprise. "The Goddamned water cooler!  On the fortieth floor of the Goddamned Pengrave building in New York City!"

Growling from somewhere deep in her throat, Lisa-May sat up straight and shot fire at the older woman down the other end of the sofa. "Cathy Giardella, will you please behave?  You nearly made me drop my book!" Unfortunately, the complaint was ignored since Cathy and June were too busy to pay attention to her.

"The Pengrave building… of course," June said, staring wide-eyed at Cathy. "We worked for different companies, but we always met for a chat at the water cooler. God, I remember now. For how long?  A year?"

Cathy shook her head. "No, less than that. I only worked there for seven, eight months. Wow… June Costanza… of course. You had a different last name then, didn't you?"

"Yes, I was married at the time. Costanza is my maiden name."

"We all make mistakes," Cathy said with a broad grin. "Wow… 1985. Or was it 1986?"

"I think it was 1986 because it was a year before the stock market crash which bankrupted the company I worked for. God, that's nearly thirty years ago now. Look at us," June said and touched her graying hair.

Shaking her head, Cathy let out a strong raspberry and reached down to pat her rotund tummy. "Girl, you look damn fine!  Look at me… I allowed myself to get fat. I'm one of those gals who need to powder the underside of her boobs in the summer or else the babies 'll chafe."

"Oh God, Cathy!  Will you please stop!" Lisa-May croaked, nearly swaying from the information overload.

Unperturbed, Cathy zoomed in on June instead of the formerly gray woman. "No wonder you couldn't recognize me. I've changed so much… you haven't changed a damn thing, really, now that I remember you. Your gorgeous eyes are still the same. And your smile!"

The blatant flirting made Lisa-May snort and groan, but she was still ignored except by Adrienne who snuggled up even closer to her.

"Oh, thank you," June said and looked down at her hands with a faint red hue tinting her cheeks. "Do you remember the outrageous jackets we had to wear back then because they were the height of fashion?  The shoulders went out that far… and the hair… I used to spend half an aerosol can of lacquer on my hair every single day."

"I do remember those jackets. And what about all those golden boys we worked for?  Those shirts with blue pinstripes, stupid suspenders and high-waisted pants they wore all the damn time?  I can't believe that was ever in fashion."

"No!  And the miniskirts we had to crawl into… God, the miniskirts."

"Yeah, but we had the legs for it back then. Some of us still do, huh?" Cathy said, once more touching June's dark-green jeans. The comment earned her an even louder snort from the peanut gallery. Cocking an eyebrow, Cathy leaned forward so she could look past June. "Lisa-May, dahling, I think you need to blow your nose. You got something nasty stuck up there."

The former gray woman put down her book and shot Cathy a suitably scandalized glare, though she did temper it with a wink. "Come on, sweetie," she said and hooked her arm inside Adrienne's. "I can tell when we aren't welcome. Goodbye, Miss Costanza. It was nice meeting you."

"And you, Miss Farrington. Miss Gryszkowski," June said with a smile.

"Hey, girls," Cathy said, "if you're going down to the dry creek professor, wouldya mind checking if there are any croissants left?  No?"

The only answer she got came in the shape of two backs walking away from her.

"Whatever," Cathy said and leaned back on the sofa. She shuffled around to be able to look directly at June. The woman next to her was far more interesting than even the juiciest croissant, so the rejection didn't bother her in the least. "So, June… what have you been doing with your life since then?  You moved to Seattle?"

June nodded. "I moved to Seattle and started working at the Sentinel, yes. I began as a secretary to one of the junior editors and worked my way up the ladder… until I reached a dead end in a corner office. There was a change in senior management, and the new bosses got rid of everyone over forty-eight. I guess we were too expensive or something."

"I don't be-flippin'-lieve it," Cathy said and thumped her fist into the cushions all over again. "That's the same Goddamned stunt the big wigs at the Herald pulled on me when I turned fifty… or tried to pull on me. Wow, is that uncanny or what?  They failed, those miserable bastards… pardon my French. I sued 'em for wrongful dismissal due to age discrimination. We proved it and won the case."

"Good for you," June said and placed a warm hand on top of Cathy's clenched fist. Under her warm touch, the fist melted and became an outstretched hand. It was a little too soon for that - after all, they had only known each other for an hour and twelve minutes this time around - so she pulled her hand back and put it in her lap.

"Yeah," Cathy said and withdrew her own hand. She knew the odd sense of rejection that rolled around the pit of her stomach was ridiculous and unfair. Nobody but nobody outside the ninety-nine cent pulp romance novels could establish a connection that fast - except perhaps Lisa-May and Adrienne, but the woman in gray had so much pent-up frustration and energy inside her that she was on the brink of exploding at the best of times - and to expect to have one with June Costanza was nothing short of foolish. "Anyway, did you ever remarry…?"

June shook her head and showed Cathy her fingers that were devoid of jewelry of any kind. "No. I got married at twenty-three, divorced at thirty-one and officially came out of the closet at thirty-five, in 1992. Late bloomer, I know. Of course, my closest friends had already pegged me years before my divorce."

"Better late than never is what I always say. I had you pegged way back at the water cooler," Cathy said and made a half-serious swat at the other woman. "I just didn't want to make a pass on ya 'cos, you know, you were married at the time. What convinced you to take the leap?" she continued as she snuggled down into the corner so she wouldn't be too close to June's tempting fingers.

"Oh, this and that… it wasn't a single event. I grew tired of dealing with all the aches and pains on my own, you know?  I didn't want to end up as a sad, lonely old maid who regretted her decisions for the rest of her life."  June cocked her head and let out a sigh. "Not that I'm too far off that now," she added in a quieter tone.

"What?  No way…" Cathy said and sat up straight.

June shrugged and fiddled with the buttons on her loose shirt. "Yeah. It's been a while since I've had someone to share things with. Share my life with. That's why I go to all these debates and meetings… conventions… I hope to meet someone my own age. Someone who's been there, done that… someone who knows what I mean when I talk about the mental strain of going to a Catholic school… about the emptiness inside when you think you're the only lesbian in the world… about the… the… no. Forget it. Forget all my damn insecurities, Cathy," she said and waved at her companion. "I'm sorry for dumping all that at your feet two minutes after we've met."

"Whoa, girl… you didn't dump anyth-"

"Do you have a restroom here?" June said and got up in a hurry. "I really need a glass of water." Without worthying Cathy but a single look, June strode away from the purple sofa in the Kozy Korner.

Turning around and putting her feet down onto the smooth linoleum floor, Cathy rubbed her brow several times as she watched June's figure disappear between the aisles headed for the bathroom. "Okay… I didn't see that one coming. Huh. So now what…?  Go after her, you dipstick," she said, getting up from the sofa before it was too late.

---

"June?  Hey…" Cathy said, leaning against the busted bathroom door. She tried to press a finger against it in the hope that June hadn't put the sliding door stop in place, but she had, and the door wouldn't budge. "June, are you okay?"

'Not really…'

Cathy took a deep breath and scrunched up her face. This called for compassion, empathy, sincerity, strength to overcome adversity, and the last thing that Sandra had written down that had slipped her mind - it was something about evolving. "Okay. I'm coming in. Push the bottom slider aside so I can get the door open. Okay?"

'Okay…' June said in a somber tone. A scraping noise was heard, and the busted door creaked ajar by itself.

Cathy smiled and pushed it open the rest of the way. The smile faded from her face at once when she realized that June had been crying. "Oh… please don't cry," she said and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. With her heel, she shoved the sliding stop in place underneath the door's frame so nobody could interrupt them.

"I feel like crying," June said in a thick voice. "I shouldn't have come down here today. I thought it would be fun, but all it did was to draw a fat line under the fact that… that… no. Forget it."

"That's the second time in three minutes you've told me to forget it… you oughtta know that when I hear things like that, I just get more determined to discover what the hell's going on. I guess that's the old reporter in me. Don't be afraid to open up, girl. Talking about it will help… trust me, I've been there so damn often it just ain't funny."

June sighed and reached up to wipe away a few tears. She gave Cathy a brief, red-eyed gaze before she turned away from her and sat down on the closed toilet seat. "I'm just lonely. Isn't that pathetic?  With all the world has to offer these days, I'm lonely. I live alone, eat alone, watch TV alone, sleep alone… God, this is gonna sound so pathetic… I long for a friend!  A confidante. I long for someone to share things with, both good and bad. Someone to go to concerts with, or museums, or restaurants, or a Sunday stroll down at the waterfront promenade… someone with a common past, someone who understands the finer details of who we are and how we got here… you know?"

"Yeah… I do. The world is so damn shallow nowadays," Cathy said quietly.

"Yeah. A friendship… an honest friendship like all you gals have here at the bookstore. It only took me two minutes to see the great rapport between all of you, and you know what?  It made me even more miserable. God, how I long for something like that… but who the hell is gonna be interested in befriending a graying late-fifty-something dyke who doesn't even own a cat!"

Cathy let out a sound that could best be described as a cross between a grunt, a laugh and a snort. "Girl!  How about a graying dyke of fifty-nine summers who doesn't have a cat either?  That's me, if you're still in doubt. And I know exactly what you're going through. I spend a lot of time here at the bookstore, and I think you know why. 'Cos my phone stopped ringing. The emails stopped coming… some nights when I go to bed, it feels like two weeks have gone by since I got up in the morning 'cos time has slowed down to a crawl. Ring any bells?"

"Yeah," June said with a dark nod.

"Yeah. My younger sister owns a croissant bakery down the street, but I can't stay there the whole day either. My presence alone would drive her off the wall. So when I'm not here, I sit at home and watch TV or surf the Internet on my laptop. Alone. I wrote a few books that sold kinda well after I was fired from the newspaper, but they didn't open the floodgates for new inquiries like I had imagined… or hoped… they would. I'm working on a project right now, but because there's no deadline, there's no urgency to it. Some days I can't even work up the energy to write a comma. All in all, I know what you're going through."

June sighed and shook her head slowly. "How did it come to this, Cathy?  Do you think our young selves would have believed it if we'd had a portal into the future back then?  Believed that we'd end up as a couple of gray, old maids?"

"Well… twenty-nine-year-old Cathy would have said to me, get the hell outta here, ya crazy old broad!" Cathy said with a grin.

With a wistful smile gracing her lips, June shuffled around on the toilet seat and cocked her head. "I guess young June would have as well. So… now what?" As she spoke, she looked Cathy in the eye.

"As soon as we get out of the john, we're gonna go back to the books and I'm gonna show you a couple of my favorite titles and stuff. Y'know, bring you into the sheep pen, girl. And afterwards?  Well, there's an awesome diner on the corner of- hey, now you're crying again. Don't cry," Cathy said and moved over to the toilet to pull June into a consolatory hug.

It was a little clumsy and awkward to begin with like most hugs were when the other person was hovering in the gray area between being a stranger and a friend, but June loosened up and got to her feet so she could wrap her arms around Cathy's back. "It's great to see you again, Cathy… even if I couldn't remember you at first. We had a good thing going back then. I dearly wish we could re-establish that connection. Do you think that's possible?"

"Ain't that what we're doing now?" Cathy said with a grin brought on by the wonderful feeling of a female body pressing against hers. A pair of warm hands on her back; soft hair tickling her cheek; the delightful scent of a high-quality perfume - it had been far too long since she had experienced any of those things. A strong friendship with a like-minded individual was just the thing she needed, and she hadn't even realized it.

"I suppose it is," June said as they separated.

They smiled at each other for a while before Cathy cocked her leg and shoved the sliding door stop aside so they could get out. "Amazing the amount of mischief two old gals can get up to in the bathroom, huh?" she whispered, reaching out to give June the tiniest tickle on the tummy.

"Yeah… and I have the feeling it won't be the last time, either," June said and crinkled her nose in the cutest gesture Cathy had seen for ages.

The two women stepped outside and shut the busted door behind them. When June's face turned into a question mark over the poor condition of the door, Cathy waved her hand. "It's a long story… and I'll tell you all about it over at the diner."

Out of nowhere, a sound akin to a twig snapping in two was heard over the entire bookstore. The sound was soon followed by an odd, rolling thunder that seemed to go on for a while until every last book had fallen off the collapsed shelf.

"That!" Felicity barked, jumping into the doorway to the office. Behind her, the swivel-chair she had been using up until one second after the collapse crashed into the wall behind it. Her face was drawn back into a gruesome mask of anger, and her eyes shot dark-brown fire. "That!  Wasn't!  A!  Shelf!  Tell me that wasn't a shelf collapsing after I got a dozen paper cuts from folding packing cases for ninety rotten minutes so we could transfer the most fragile books from the fu- fu- damn shelves!" - deep breath - "Tell me that wasn't a shel-"

'Oh!  A shelf has collapsed, Miss LaMarre!' a female voice said from the other side of the bookstore. It sounded suspiciously like Adrienne Gryszkowski's, but there was too much thunderous electricity in the air for anyone to know for sure.

"Aaargh!" Felicity barked, slamming her fist into the flat part of the doorjamb - the impact was hard enough to send little clumps of mortar rattling down the rear side of the jamb. With a face like a good-sized summer thunderstorm, she stomped away from the office and into the bookstore, passing Cathy and June on the way.

Staying well back from the furious woman, Cathy chuckled over the comical, though dangerous look on Felicity's face. Scratching her cheek, she turned back to June who just stood there, absorbing it all with wide eyes. "All part of the big merry-go-round known as life, yeah?  Hey… are you up for a little improvised adventure?  It could be fun or embarrassing, no one can tell. It's always unpredictable, though… and it's something we regulars do together."

"What, scooping up books?"

"Exactly… on a regular basis, too!  Beats Pilates, that's for sure. C'mon," Cathy said and hooked her arm inside June's.

---

It turned out to be the bottom shelf of the Sports Drama bookcase that had collapsed. Paperbacks, hardbacks, pristine copies and torn, old rags revolving around softball, swimming, volleyball, basketball, tennis, track and field, soccer and even motor racing were spread out all over the aisle.

The covers tended to follow the contents of the books, so most were colorful affairs featuring blue water, orange courts, green pitches or gray asphalt.

Sandra came hustling over from the debate to join Cathy, June, Felicity, Lisa-May and Adrienne. The six-Amazon strike team was soon towering over the books with their hands akimbo ready to scoop up the errant tomes and put them back onto the shelf whenever the queen of the tribe - Felicity - gave the command.

She didn't. "I can't deal with that," Felicity growled and threw her hands in the air. "I just can't deal with that. If you wanna get down on your hands and knees and collect the books, be my guest… I'm gonna go into the office and read a hot novel while I get an insane sugar rush from stuffing my face with Candy Balls. Enough is enough."  With that, she spun around on her heel and stomped away.

"Uh… what in the world… Felicity?" Sandra asked, but the administrator wasn't in any mood to reconsider her decision. "Felicity, wait up," she continued as she hurried after the irate woman whose angry stomping resembled that of a raging bull.

Cathy chuckled and leaned in to bump shoulders with June. "Told ya it would be unpredictable. How about it… should we take one on the chin for the greater good?"

"Yeah… why not," June said with a smile. After finding a spot that wasn't too cluttered, she sat down on the floor and began to collect the errant books.

Cathy grinned and followed her old acquaintance down there. It wasn't quite as easy for her to get her additional bulk down with grace and style, but she managed. "Girls?  How about it?" she said to Lisa-May and Adrienne.

The two women looked at each other and broke out in identical giggles. "Sure, Miss Giardella," Adrienne said as she pulled up in her tight slacks and swept down onto the floor with far greater ease than the older women. "I never look at the sports dramas so it'll be exciting to see something new. Oh look, here's a good one already… it's by F. Meredith Calhoun and it's called Disgraced, the Story of Renee Griffith… oh, she was on the US Track and Field team at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta but she was thrown out after being caught up in a doping scandal and this is the story of how she made a comeback to the sport training a young female track and field talent after serving her suspension. But!  Shady businessmen try to tempt the young talent Renee has discovered into doing the same mistakes her mentor did… can Renee keep her protege on the straight and narrow so she can fulfil her potential of going for the gold in Athens 2004?  Oh, I think I'll put that aside. It sounds exciting!"

"Sweetie," Lisa-May said, leaning over to muss her soulmate's knee. "I'm sure Cathy and Miss Costanza aren't too interested-"

"Oh!" Adrienne cried, oblivious to Lisa-May's attempt at stopping her. "How about this one?  I think it was on the wrong shelf as it's a biography of the first ever female winner of the grueling Twenty-Four Hours of Le Mans motor race as written by her partner, an award-winning biographer!  Second edition, now with added chapters and twenty-four pages of color photographs!  Look at the cover, isn't she gorgeous?" she said and held up the book which showed an elegant, dark-haired woman lounging on a sand-colored reclining chair.

"Yeah," Cathy said, grinning at Adrienne's unbridled excitement. She looked over at June whose mood had improved after the emotional low point in the bathroom. Locking eyes, the two women smiled at each other before they went back to stacking the books.

-*-*-*-

Once the sports dramas had been sorted and put into orderly stacks, Cathy found one of the spare packing cases so they could store the books safely until the shelf would be fixed. With the skills of a professional, she took the clumsy sheet of cardboard and folded it up into a perfectly shaped case in no time flat.

Grinning, she gave the finished case a little shake to see if it would hold. "And that's how you do it, girls. Nothing to it. Easy as scratching my-"

"Eyebrow," Lisa-May interjected.

"But of course, dahling. Eyebrow."

Lisa-May scrunched up her face and let out a sound that could be interpreted as a wild horse whinnying somewhere in the far distance. Once she had cleared her throat, she put a smile on her face and turned towards June. "We have to apologize for the behavior of some of the Bookworm Sanctuary regulars, Miss Costanza. Despite her age, Miss Giardella seems to have never left kindergarten."

Letting out a burst of laughter, Cathy reached over and swatted at Lisa-May's arm. "Aw, that was a pretty good one, girl… I think I'll write that one down. See what kind of abuse I have to put up with, June?"

"I do," June said and nodded hard. "And it's great!"

"Great?" Cathy said, but her voice was drowned out by Adrienne and Lisa-May who both sniggered at the new guest's comment. "Well, if you think that's so funny, just wait 'til you have to help me get up from here. How's that for a classic case of hardee-har-har?" she continued, putting out her arms so she could get a hands-up.

Adrienne, June and Lisa-May looked at each other and let out identical grunts. Shrugging, they each took what could be described as a corner of Cathy and helped the heavy-set woman back on her feet.

---

Lisa-May and Adrienne shuffled back up to the Kozy Korner with the books they had found, but June and Cathy kept standing at the Sports Drama aisle perusing the shelves for a little while longer. Nothing caught their imagination so they trickled down to the other end to observe how things went at the debate meeting where the neo-feminist manifest was still being discussed.

"Oh boy, they're still at it," Cathy mumbled under her breath. They didn't go past the portable fiber glass walls, but she could hear the dry professor's lethargic voice speaking about how most of the labels that had been attached to women over the past decade, especially The Kitten, The MILF and The old Witch, had all been created by Man as a way of objectifying Woman and reducing her worth to the firmness of her breasts and the length of her legs, regardless of her intellectual strength.

"That's an interesting discussion, actually," June said, standing up on tip-toes to hear better. "About the labels, I mean. Some of them are really offensive. MILF… come on."

"Yeah, sure, but it's not like women haven't been putting labels on other women for one hell of a long time too, you know. I find those labels to be just as offensive as those the guys have made up. A woman who chooses to have a variety of sexual partners, well, she's a slut or a ballroom. A woman who chooses to use makeup is called a lipstick or a bucket of paint. A woman who chooses to dress up in a bomber jacket, acid-washed jeans and Doc Martens, we call a fugly man-beast no matter how winning her personality is… I know that for a fact since it happened to a gal I helped with her memoirs last year. I mean, are any of those really better than MILF?  And do I even have to mention how often the word 'bitch' is uttered by women to describe other women?"

June shrugged. "Good points, Cathy. Sounds like we have plenty to add to the debate… do you want to go back inside and try again?"

"Uh… not really, to be honest. I wouldn't want to give the dear, old professor a cranial meltdown," Cathy said and peeked over the edge of the nearest fiber glass wall.

"I think I will, actually. See you at the purple sofa in a little while, then?" June said and put a hand on Cathy's elbow.

Cathy looked down at the hand and marveled at how good it actually felt to have a connection to another human being again. It didn't matter at all that it was a friendly connection rather than a romantic one - in fact, she was glad she was spared all the hidden dangers that would crop up with alarming regularity in a relationship that revolved around the bedroom. In a friendship, they could have positive disagreements about this, that and the other without having the mood between them, and between the sheets, turn frosty. When she had been in her late thirties, she had suffered through a volatile relationship, and she had been on the brink of swearing off women for good when she and her girlfriend had split up after shouting at each other for so long they had both developed husky voices.

"Well… ugh," Cathy said and performed a little shimmy. "Oh, all right. I better go first so we can get the shock over with in a hurry."  She broke out in a smile when she once again realized that a good, strong friendship was just what the doctor had ordered for her.

-*-*-*-

Her good mood didn't last as long the second time around. The first time, she had been able to sit through twenty minutes of Professor Kramer's lecture before her rebellious streak bubbled to the surface, but this time, she could feel it coming on after only fifteen minutes.

Professor Kramer didn't seem too pleased with the returning Cathy, either. She had taken to walking around the table while she spoke instead of sitting at it, and each time she went past Cathy, her face gained a look that said she would give anything to be able to smack the older woman for slouching in her chair and not paying too much attention to the debate.

Fortunately for the professor's peace of mind - and sanity - June and Sandra both chimed in quite often with all kinds of comments and observations from the real world with regards to the interpretation of and countermeasures to the various labels.

"Very Good, Miss Costanza… Miss Gottfried. You certainly understand the challenges we face," professor Kramer said as she came to a halt at her spot. She shuffled her papers around and found the one that looked to be the last. "All right, those challenges are even stronger in our final segment of the debate. Ladies, it's about our sexuality, and how we have allowed Man to define it through the Male Gaze-"

Cathy drew a deep breath and sat up straight. Squinting, she looked over at Sandra who seemed mentally prepared for anything that could be said.

"-which is of course the sexualized gaze, the one where we, as individual women, are reduced to our… uh, bits. Where we, as individual women, disappear to them if we aren't dressed provocatively, or aren't egging them on like The Kitten we spoke about earlier. But ladies, as we all know, there's far more to us than that. The entire romantic, emotional aspect form the backbone of the female sexu-"

"Ahem!" Cathy said and put up her hand.

Everyone sitting at the round table drew a sharp intake of breath. They froze in place and waited for the inevitable outcome to burst out of the professor. Several pairs of eyes were locked onto Melissa Kramer, and others tried to stare a hole in Cathy's face.

"Miss Giardella?" Professor Kramer said in a hoarse voice that held a slight hint of a screechy undertone.

"Thank you. Okay," Cathy said and leaned forward so she could put an elbow on the table while she spoke, "it's obviously true that we all like to have a deep, emotional connection to our partners, perhaps even that it's ingrained into our female minds to do so, but you shouldn't overlook the fact that the initial wham-bam of lust also plays a strong part for us gals."

"The wham-bam of lust?" Professor Kramer said, keeping her jaw closed while she spoke which turned the 'S' in 'lust' into a long, drawn-out hiss.

"Yes, that initial burst of blood to our nether regions when we see a gorgeous gal… or guy, or whatever we get hot and bothered for… shaking his or her booty on the dance floor in some bar. Now excuse me for calling bullshit this late in the game, but-"

"Calling bullsh-"

"-I don't think of her IQ when I see something like that, and she doesn't have to be in a tight dress, either. Worn jeans and a baggy shirt will do just fine, thank you. Anyway, the reptile part of my brain thinks of how she'll move in bed. I'm sorry, but that's a fact. Oh, sure, I'd like to know how she is the morning after, I mean, nobody likes a sourpuss who can't make decent coffee, but the bottom line is… women are sexual beings too. Y'know, to put it on its head-"

"Calling bullshit?!" the professor croaked, and by now, her voice had strayed far into the screechy register.

"Yes. Where was I… o-yeah. To put it on its head, I feel that some of the things going on right now, like emphasizing how romantic and emotional we are to differentiate ourselves from the boinka-boinka nature of the guys, are just further attempts at wrapping us women in cotton wool to hide our big, bad, scary sexuality from the world. We are sexual beings, right?  Therefore, I suggest we don't call it the Male and Female gaze at all!" Cathy said and made a sweeping gesture at the other women sitting at the round table. She noted that Sandra's cheeks were one notch below catching fire. "We should call it the Romantic gaze and the Horny gaze!  'Cos sometimes we wanna cuddle, and sometimes we just wanna get laid. Both are basic human conditions that apply to Woman, Man and all combinations thereof. I rest my case. Thank you."

Leaning back in the chair, Cathy crossed her arms over her chest. She wore a smug grin on her face that was matched to the T by the one gracing June Costanza's features.

Professor Kramer grabbed a handful of her papers and crushed them in her fist. Her nervous tic had made a return and it was doing its best to give the right side of her face a creepy, Exorcist-like quality. Her throat was moving up and down though no sound ever escaped her lips, and red blotches developed on her cheeks and forehead. From one moment to the next, she let out a guttural roar and lurched forward like she wanted to smack Cathy over the head - or strangle her - for creating such a mess of her meticulously planned debate.

"No!  Professor Kramer!" Sandra cried and jumped up from her spot. She raced around the round table and grabbed hold of the seething Melissa before she could strike. Even with her fit frame, Sandra had trouble keeping back the raging woman, and it took the help of June to get everything calmed down enough for Cathy to get up from her chair and hustle away from the round table like the Male Gaze itself was trying to take a big bite out of her rearward-facing cheeks.

The commotion had attracted the attention of everyone at the bookstore, and Felicity, Lisa-May and Adrienne were joined by a dozen interested spectators who all oooh'ed and ahhh'ed at the spectacle. "I really should ask what the hell's going on here… but I'm not gonna," Felicity mumbled as she took in the odd sight of Sandra and June physically restraining the lecturer while Cathy took the long way around to have several escape routes ready in case the grizzly would break its chains and attack again.

-*-*-*-

An hour later, it was all over. The round table and the uncomfortable chairs were put on a cargo cart and wheeled back to the community center while some of the bookstore's regulars moved the portable fiber glass walls back into the tiny storage room at the opposite end of where the office was.

Adrienne had taken it upon herself to sweep up the many croissant crumbs from the linoleum floor, and she did a good job of swinging the broom. To help her along, she was given amiable support by Lisa-May who pointed out where she should go next.

The last of the guests had barely put on their jackets and coats when normal service was resumed in the bookstore. Happy for the return to the same-old, laid back coziness that had become the Bookworm Sanctuary's main selling point, the regulars started mingling and browsing the many aisles and crates on offer. Soon, books were found, read and bought - or rejected.

Sandra smiled at the cute sight of Lisa-May trying to show Adrienne how to really grasp a broom - and feeling her up in the process - as she walked over to the trolley with the dirty mugs and dishes. She began to wheel it away, but the paper bag from the croissant bakery slipped off a tray and opened up.

Wiser from her bad experience with the filled pastries, she jumped back in a hurry, but she wasn't about to come under sneak attack by a glob of devious chocolate. "Oh!  Everybody, there's still a whole croissant left," she said and pulled it the rest of the way out of the bag. "Not sure what's in it, but there's definitely a whole croissant left. Should I try to cut a few slices out of it, or-"

A chorus of "Yes!" "Well, duh," and "hell yeah!" echoed through the bookstore.

The latter exclamation had predictably come from Cathy who hadn't strayed from June's side since the unfortunate incident at the round table. She, June and Felicity were leaning against the narrow shelf underneath the public message board to stay out of the way and let the younger, fitter women do the hard work.

Turning back to Felicity, June resumed her colorful retelling that she acted out with plenty of effort and wild gestures. "Oh, Miss LaMarre, you should have seen the professor's face!  Oh God, I didn't think a human face could be contorted like that… it was awful to look at. And her eyes… oh, they murdered poor Cathy here ten times over!"

Felicity chuckled and reached over toward the woman in the denim bib overalls to swat at her tummy. "Business as usual for ya, eh, Cathy?"

"Yeah," Cathy said and hooked her thumbs into the loops on her overalls, "it happens just about every day and twice on Sundays that I'm chased by women who want my body… of course, this one wanted my body hanging on the wall over her fireplace."

June chuckled and leaned closer to her new, old friend. "But Miss Gottfried and I stopped her. I think you owe me one, Cathy!"

"I owe, I know," Cathy said and stuck out her tongue. Sniggering, she and June leaned in and rubbed shoulders.

Felicity grinned at yet another smashing success - not the neo-feminist debate, but the fact that Aphrodite had come through for them yet again to play matchmaker for those who needed it the most.

"I'm glad I did get to apologize to professor Kramer and her husband when he came to pick her up, though," Cathy said in a more serious tone. "I wouldn't want her to think badly of the Bookworm Sanctuary just because I was such a rascal. I'm sure those weird red and white blotches on her forehead will go away eventually…"

In the meantime, Sandra had managed to cut the last remaining croissant into ten slices, and she carried them around on napkins. "Here you go," she said as she gave yet another regular one of the tiny slices. When she reached Felicity, she offered the administrator the largest of the slices that were left. She winked before she moved onto the next one.

After Felicity had swallowed the few bites, she dabbed her mouth on the napkin and stuffed it into her rear pocket for later. "Remember the carpenters I told you about earlier?" she said to Cathy and June who had swapped slices because June couldn't eat the larger one she had been given. "Well, they couldn't make it today after all, but they'll swing by tomorrow. For the money Sandra donated to the Bookworm Sanctuary, we've ordered new shelves for all the bookcases in all aisles."

Hearing that, Cathy let out a grunt and an "Oh, wow…"

"Yeah. Nothing… absolutely nothing can collapse after the new shelves have been put up. Knock on wood," Felicity said, knocking on the wooden shelf they were standing next to.

Cathy scrunched up her face and looked at the bookstore. "Shit, that's gonna create one hell of a mess… are you gonna close down while you get everything fixed?"

"No. We'll take one aisle at a time. It'll take longer that way, but… yeah. Anyway, there's still plenty of potential for dramas with the noise and the dust and the… ugh. Lisa-May probably won't show up for a month. Speaking of the charming dame," Felicity said and nodded at the aforementioned woman who came strolling arm in arm with Adrienne. "Hi, Lisa-May. Was that it for today?"

"Almost," the former gray woman said. She smiled at her new squeeze who returned it in kind. "But first we're going down to the community center's cafeteria to get something to eat. They have really great egg and tuna sandwiches-"

"Egg and tuna!" Cathy said and made a few retching sounds that earned her an annoyed glare from Lisa-May's green eyes.

June chuckled and reached over to give Cathy's shoulder a light punch. "I love a good egg and tuna sandwich. Just the thing for a late afternoon pick-me-up."

"Oh… egg and tuna, huh?" Cathy said and looked at her new friend. "Well… I guess I could try it… once."

The puppy-like turnaround made the other women giggle at Cathy's expense, but the tongue the former journalist stuck out at all of them proved that she didn't take it to heart.

A little commotion at the main entrance to the bookstore made everyone look over there out of worry that Melissa Kramer had returned with a twelve-inch meat cleaver to settle the score. When it turned out to be Kristen and Dana listening to loud indie rock that blasted into their brains through the ubiquitous white earphones, everybody let out a sigh of relief.

The music became impossibly loud for a moment when Kristen popped out her earphone, but she shut it off before it could become a nuisance. The colorful, tattooed woman with the many piercings and the jet black possum hair shuffled over to Felicity and the others while she checked out the empty space where the round table had been. "Whassup?  Did we miss anything?"

"You sure did, girl," Cathy said with a grin. "Anyway, I don't think you've been introduced to June yet. Kristen, this is June Costanza. She's gonna be a regular. June, this is Kristen Laneau, poet and rock star. Hiyas are in order."

"Hiya, June," came the inevitable reply from Kristen who put out her fist.

June stared at it for a few seconds before she understood she was supposed to bump her own fist against it. Duly bumped, she grinned at the colorful, young woman. "Hi, Kristen. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Kristen said and looked over her shoulder. She soon found the purple-haired Dana browsing through the crates containing the old vinyl records. "Hey, Dana!  There's someone you gotta meet!  Dana?"

The young woman with the purple wave of hair that reached into her eyes hadn't taken out her earphones yet, so she was lost to the world.

Kristen shrugged and turned back to June and the others. "Whatever. Me and Dana just finished recording a song down in the cafeteria. We're gonna go up to the Kozy Korner and listen to it now, so… catch ya later, June."

"Sure!  I hope the song has turned out well," June said with a smile and a little wave.

"Thanks. You can check it out on my WoCo profile in ten minutes or so. Yeah?"

"Uh… thank you. I'll do that," June said, furrowing her brow. Once Kristen had shuffled away, she turned back to Cathy and Felicity. "As soon as I find out what a WoCo profile is…"

Cathy chuckled and hooked her arm inside June's. "I'll tell you all about it over at the diner. We can talk over a soggy egg salad, okay?  Felicity, do you need us for anything…?"

"Nope. Have a nice evening, girls. See you tomorrow," Felicity said and shook hands with Cathy and a grinning June before she moved into the office.

As the two fifty-something women shuffled over to the main entrance, June snuck her hand inside Cathy's just because. Gazing at each other, they exchanged a warm smile that proved that Aphrodite had indeed sprinkled a handful of dust labeled Category 'A' Friendship in their direction.

"Awwww," Sandra said as she walked past the two older women on her way to the office. Still smiling, she went up to stand in the doorway to see what Felicity was doing.

The administrator was sitting at her desk typing something on the laptop when their connection manifested itself. Pausing, she looked up and offered Sandra a brief smile before she continued working.

An unstoppable urge to do something they hadn't tried yet came over the fit blonde, and she ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure she didn't have anything stuck there. She was clean. The time was right. Moving with stealth, she stepped into the office and slipped the door shut behind her.

A scant minute later out in the bookstore, a pair of sounds akin to twigs breaking in half echoed around one of the aisles. The sound was followed by rolling thunder that went on for a little while longer than it usually did.

The remaining regulars all gasped and waited for Felicity to come out of the office and roar out her frustration to the heavens above, but nothing happened. Another minute later, Kristen and Dana shuffled over to the aisle to see how big the spill was, and established that not one, but two neighboring shelves had collapsed. The resulting avalanche had sent dozens of books all over the floor.

The collapsing shelves seemed to have managed to send out distress signals before giving up the ghost because a pitter-patter of many shoes was suddenly heard from the rest of the bookstore and even out in the hallway. As the regulars flocked to the aisle to pick up the errant books, the main entrance opened and Cathy, June, Lisa-May and Adrienne - the latter two carrying diet soda cans and wrapped egg and tuna sandwiches - stepped inside and stomped over to the aisle like an advancing army.

"Amazons to the rescue!" Cathy cried, throwing her right fist in the air. "All right, girls, we know what to do. I'll get a couple of packing cases, you'll scoop up the books. Once the books are in the cases, we can all say nighty-night and go home. Or to the diner. Yeah?"

Everybody nodded and began collecting the many books, even Kristen and Dana.

Cathy furrowed her brow when it dawned on her that Felicity and Sandra hadn't shown up yet. Letting out a puzzled "Hmmm," she shuffled over to the office but came to a halt at the closed door. Another "Hmmm!" was uttered, and this one had a cheeky tone to it. Knocking once, she depressed the handle and opened the door just enough to peek inside.

Sandra was sitting in Felicity's lap on the swivel-chair. Her square-framed spectacles had been folded neatly and were lying on the desk. The laptop was open like one of them had been using it, but the sweet activity carried out by the two women was far more important than that. They were kissing - and not just a little, but a lot. Sighs and moans escaped them both as their mouths were as busy as their hands that were gripping at clothes, clawing skin and roaming through hair.

The swivel-chair was creaking and groaning along with the two women as it struggled to hold up their combined weight. Cathy had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud at the thought of Sandra and Felicity ending up in an unruly pile on the floor as a result of all that kissing.

To respect their privacy, she pulled back in complete silence and shut the door softly behind her. "You go, girls," she whispered to herself on the other side of the closed door.

She tip-toed away from the office until she knew she would be out of earshot. "Awwwwe-some!  Score!" she said as she performed an appropriate victory celebration that saw her cocking her leg and pumping her fist in the air. The laughter she had held back earlier couldn't be denied any longer, and she chuckled to herself the entire way up to the aisle where the rest of the Amazons were busy with the books.

Inside the office, the need for air took over and Sandra pulled back from Felicity's succulent lips. She stayed close to gaze deeply into her companion's dark-brown eyes that seemed to have gained a husky quality from the kissing. "Well, that was nice," she whispered, leaning in to administer a few nibbles on the smooth, salty skin.

"Yeah… kinda nice," Felicity whispered back, keeping a steady grip around Sandra's fit midriff so she wouldn't slip off her lap. She grinned to prove that it had perhaps been a little bit more than merely 'kinda nice.' "Not that I'm complaining, but… to what do I owe this pleasure?  It's sorta unexpected…"

"Well," Sandra said and traced her fingers down Felicity's dark cheek, "I overheard you and Cathy speaking earlier today. About why we hadn't moved out of the dugout yet."

"Oh… yeah?"

"Yeah. It made me think. We're both adults. We both want to try it, don't we?"

Felicity grinned broadly and took the opportunity to rub Sandra's sides. "We definitely do."

"So I thought… it's time to make a move. And here we are."

"I couldn't agree more," Felicity said and pulled the blonde closer for a little nibble.

"We need to put a couch in here…" Sandra whispered, allocating all her attention to teasing Felicity's neck, pulsepoint and left earlobe with the pink tip of her tongue.

"A cuddle-spot?"

"Mmm-hmmm…"

"We could do that. Do you think we'd use it?" Felicity said and trailed her hand down Sandra's side until it came to a rest on her butt. The firm cheek was given a little squeeze through the sweatpants which earned her a husky chuckle.

Sandra pulled back an inch or two and shot Felicity such an electric gaze the air heated up between them. "I think we would, yeah." Her eyes went on a little tour of her kissing mate's face until they came to a rest on the succulent lips. "Let's talk about it… later."

"Much later," Felicity whispered. She pulled Sandra even closer so they could resume the sweet exercise. Soon, the office was once again witness to plenty of husky sighs and sensuous, little moans.

And on the wall behind them, the little picture of the Goddess Aphrodite that Felicity had printed out showed a bleached blonde grinning from ear to ear.

*
*
THE END.

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