DISCLAIMERS: No copyright infringement is intended by the use of titles, artist's names and/or lyrics of the songs contained herein. These have merely been used for entertainment value and possible storyline continuity. All the characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.

WARNINGS:

Violence: This story contains scenes and/or references to physical, emotional and sexual violence.

Sex: It centers on an explicit sexual relationship between two women. It is intended for MATURE AUDIENCES. So if you're under age 18, this is illegal where you are or this just isn't your cup of tea, then you have been forewarned, please exit stage left. If you are mature enough and I've captured your attention, then moving right along here...

(Written 1993. Revised 2001)

        We spent all day Monday in bed since the club was closed that night and she had no appointments.

        Tuesday morning, I watched her doing her daily exercises, in the room across from Rick's. She informed me that this used to be her mother's sewing room. The sewing machine was still there, though it was covered with a plastic cover and I could tell it hadn't been used in years. Everything else in the room was allotted to her exercises. There was a small weight bench, with a leg-lift attachment. A mat was spread out on the floor with wrist and ankle weights lying near it, as well as a pair of small ten-pound dumbbells.

        I now knew how she stayed in such good condition. But, I also knew why she did this. Which was what drove me from the room, after witnessing the sweat beading up between her breasts through the unbuttoned Henley shirt. I found myself wanting her at that moment, but knew it was not to be.

        Around one she left for her appointment, wearing a low cut, silky black dress, black hose and high heels pumps. She was stunning, especially so, since she'd styled her hair differently, making it appear much fuller, as well as parting it on one side, so that it fell across her face in a very seductive fashion. But, I was not happy about the situation, at all, no matter how good she looked. I didn't like it one damn bit! I was already feeling very possessive myself now. I could see why men would not want a prostitute for a lover and was beginning to wonder how long I could handle it.

        She was back a little after two and went straight to the shower. She didn't even attempt to kiss me or anything. Matter of fact, she walked right by me in the bedroom where I was straightening up, without saying word, only offering a slight nod in my direction. I heard her finish her shower and then begin doing other hygienic things that she deemed necessary. I was glad she did, but I only wished she didn't have to do it in the first place.

        When she finally came out, she was wearing nothing but a pair of high cut, black, cotton briefs and a long, loose fitting crocheted sweater, which was very revealing. Despite the way I felt about how inviting she looked, I was sullen and unresponsive. She seemed hurt at first, and then appeared to take it in stride.

        "I usually eat around seven," she said, standing in the bedroom doorway. "But if you want to eat earlier, you can. I have another appointment at 5:30, so I probably won't be back until close to seven. I'll start dinner before I leave." She then walked out.

        "Shit!" I hissed to myself.

        I laid on the bed pouting. Knowing she had been with someone else, whether only for money or not, was eating me alive inside. It was my first battle with the green-eyed monster and I was losing, BIG TIME!!!

        I felt justified in my anger, though. She had asked me to stay and be her lover, she didn't need to do this anymore! All she should need was me. I was feeling very arrogant about this situation. Now that I was her lover, she should change her life to accommodate me, shouldn't she?

        When this question was voiced in my mind, I came face to face with my arrogance. I had allowed that green-eyed monster to lead me into thinking that I was the one doing her the great favor; that I had saved her, somehow. When in actuality, it was the other way around. She had saved my ass and I knew it! Who knew where I would be now or what might have happened to me along the way, if she hadn't taken me in. I might well be back in Mississippi, getting the shit beat out of me, if that cop had got a hold of me, or perhaps even lying six feet under by now.

        And it wasn't as if she had lied to me about what she was. She had been straight with me all along. After all, she had asked me to stay and be her lover; giving me the opportunity to pack my things and leave "when it no longer felt right" to me. I could do that now, if I wanted to.

        But I didn't! All I wanted was to have her all to myself! And in light of the real situation that existed, that was selfish and impossible. I assumed the reason she had taken my sullen withdrawal in stride was because she wanted me to think it over for myself. In essence, she was saying, "This is what I am, Darby. Take me or leave me".

        I was soon downstairs looking for her. I found her in the den, which was located across the hall from the kitchen. She was lying on a large sofa, two throw pillows behind her head, watching a 27 inch TV that was housed in a large entertainment center. She glanced up, as I walked in. I could see in her eyes that she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. I assumed she'd been through this before and was doing what she'd learned prevented confrontations and saved her a lot of wasted effort. These were mighty high-minded thoughts I was having, but I'd learned a little about human nature from my father. "Don't talk back and he may go away and leave you alone."

        I walked by her and sat down in a well-worn vinyl recliner, observing her as she viewed a soap opera. I could tell she must watch it a good deal, for she seemed involved in it and not just killing time. Finally, when the half hour commercial came, I couldn't take the silence and distance between us any longer.

        I got up and went over to her. She looked up at me. Not one word passed her lips, nor did she make any suggestive movements towards me, other than slowly moving over, making room beside her. I sat down then turned towards her. Her dark eyes darted back and forth searching mine. It was obvious to me now that I would have to make the first move.

        I reached out and touched her forearm, running my finger up and down it, admiring the scattering of fine dark hairs. She raised up, propping herself up with her elbow. Then she reached out slowly and interlaced her fingers with mine. We played with each other's hands using our thumbs, stroking and massaging. Then she raised mine to her mouth. I thought she was going to kiss my hand, but instead she latched onto my thumb with her lips. I witnessed its slow ascent into her mouth and felt her caressing it with her warm tongue. I laid down beside her and she worked her way up my arm, tasting, sucking and nibbling.

        We kissed, caressed and teased each other throughout the remainder of the show. When it ended, she reached over and turned off the TV with the remote, then climbed on top of me.

        Nothing was said and nothing but foreplay passed between us. It was more silent reassurance than anything else. And I had a feeling we were setting a precedent for the future.

        I helped her cook dinner, which set another precedent. And while she was gone, I straightened up around the house. I did this not because she asked, but because it was what I knew how to do from years of experience. And when she sat down to dinner, complimenting me on this, as well as cleaning up, I was in heaven. I'd never received a compliment before.

        The dye was cast. I became chief bottle washer, floor sweeper and bed maker, not by her design, but by my own.

        Saturday came and Rick rolled into town. When he drove up, she was inside on the phone checking on some supplies she'd ordered for the club that were late and I was out back chopping up the wood she'd had delivered that week. She'd already informed me that he'd been doing this job for her over the past few years. It was cheaper to buy it in chunks rather than have them chop it up. She'd offered to forego the norm and pay the extra twenty-five dollars this time, but I had insisted on doing it myself. It was something else I knew how to do and I needed to feel like I was paying my way.

        He waved as he got out of the truck. "Darby, boy, you still here? She's put ya to work I see. Earnin' your keep are...?" He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth wide open, as I turned around to face him, one of her Henley shirts clinging to my sweaty body. "Ho-ly fuc-kin' sh-it!" he said, taking a step back and looking me over. "Go-od-damn, you're... you're a fuckin' girl!"

        "Sorry I deceived you, but... I thought it would be safer for me that way," I explained.

        His surprise and confusion quickly changed to anger. "Well yeah, I suppose... You mean you didn't... but you slept in her... I heard you two... Awh-uh Fuck! Where the hell is Anna?"

        "Inside," I replied, wondering whether I should go in with him or let them discuss this alone. I opted for the latter, after watching him make his way towards the side porch. He was pissed!!!

        A few windows in the house were open to receive the cool autumn breeze. And his voice exploded out of the kitchen.

        "What the fuckin' hell is goin' on here, Anna?"

        I didn't hear her reply.

        "Darby's a goddamn girl, that's what! And don't you tell me they ain't nothin' goin' on, 'cause I heard the two of you up there. You're fuckin' her, aren't ya?"

        There was a pause.

        "Holy fuckin' shit, Anna!" he exploded again.

        Another pause, this time longer.

        "No, it's not! It's not normal and you know it. Queer... queer is what it is!"

        Pause.

        "Bullshit! Fuckin' dyke is what she is! Goddammit, how could I be so stupid!"

        I picked up a few pieces of wood I'd already chopped up and carried them over to the back porch, giving myself an excuse for eavesdropping.

        "What? Goddammit to hell, Anna, this is not you!"

        "You don't know me that well. You never did," she said, calmly.

        "Oh... oh... now she tells me! What? You gonna tell me you wanted a fuckin' dyke while you were fuckin' my brains out in there, hmm?"

        "No. I just... it's just another part of me, that... I don't know how to explain it. It's just different."

        "I'll say. Too damn different! You never fucked me up there in your bedroom! Is this why? You wanted a woman, all along?" He paused, giving her time to answer, which she didn't. "Get rid of her, Anna! Send her packin'! You shoulda never brought her home! She's... screwed your head up!"

        "No one has screw..."

        "Oh yeah, babe, someone has! And I know who! It's that fuckin' little bull-dyke out there!!!" He paused again. "What'd she do, bury her face in your cunt and you went crazy as hell over it? Huh? Jesus Fuckin' Christ, I can't believe this shit!!!!"

        "Maybe you should go to Dora's and cool off," she suggested. "I'd rather not be talked to..."

        "Oh, hell no, I'm not! No!! I'm not leavin' here until you get rid of that... that dyke out there and come to your senses! Listen to me, Anna..."

        "Take your hands off me, Rick!"

        That did it. I was headed for the back door.

        "Babe, you can't be serious about this. This is crazy! You have to get rid of her, Anna. Or... or I will."

        "No, Rick, don't you dare! Now... let go of me!"

        I walked in the back door to find her pulling away from him. Both of them turned and looked at me.

        "Darby!" she said surprised. "Umm... go back outside, baby. Rick and I..."

        "Baby!" Rick exploded. "Get your ass outta here, you fuckin' little queer!" he shouted at me.

        I stood my ground. I didn't want to be ordered around by him or anyone else anymore. I had finally escaped that and I wasn't about to fall back into it. Not even if he did have that big knife in his boot.

        Anna moved towards me. "Darby, go back outside, okay. Rick's a bit upset and he's..."

        "Upset!" he flamed, coming towards me, "I'm fuckin' furious with you, you little cunt! Get the hell outta this house!"

        I didn't have anything to defend myself with and wished I'd brought a stick of wood in with me; though, I wasn't sure if I could wield any sort of weapon, in my own defense. I'd never hit a living soul in my entire life. But, if he tried to hurt her, I felt I would take my best shot at it.

        My arms went rigid, my hands clinched themselves into fists by my side. Could I really hit him? I wondered.

        Anna moved between us, before he reached me. She faced him. "No Rick! If anybody's leavin' it's gonna be you! This is my fuckin' house, remember? And if you can't act any better than this then you can just get the hell out!"

        His mouth dropped open slightly, as a look of shock washed over his face, seemingly draining the bright red coloring from it. "You're kickin' me out... over that?" he asked, sounding hurt.

        "No. I'm not kickin' you out. I just think you should go somewhere and... and calm down."

        He glared at me. "This is all your doin'!" he growled, pointing his big, thick forefinger at me. "And I swear you hurt her in any way and... and I'll hunt ya down and... and kill ya, ya hear me?!!!"

        I swallowed hard, for I knew he could easily kill me; especially, if I couldn't find it within me to fight back.

        "That's enough, Rick!" she exploded. "Now, leave!"

        He glanced from me to her then back again. "Fine by me. I overstayed my welcome here a long time ago anyway. I can see that now." He eyed me. "I felt sorry for you, bitch. I tried to help you out. And what do I get for that, huh? You fuck my woman's head up!"

        "I'm not your woman anymore, Rick," Anna pointed out. "You know that."

        "Huh? Well, hell that's beside the point, ain't it? Point is you tricked me," he accused, pointing again. "I won't forget this, bitch!"

        "I didn't ask you for anything but a ride," I said, feeling hurt myself. "And I feel betrayed, too. You hate me now just because I'm a girl! If I were still the boy you helped become a man, would you be so mad at me now? Or would you be pattin' me on the back? You sure didn't seem upset when you first drove up."

        He seemed a bit stunned. It was the first time I'd said more than two sentences to him.

        He took a step back, as if considering my argument. "But you lied to me. I helped you outta the goodness of my heart and you... you deceived her, too, I bet. What'd you do, wait until she'd undressed for you, so you could... could get your fuckin' mouth on her? I've heard about you dykes, that's all you ever do! And you knew a whore wouldn't turn that down, didn't ya?"

        "No, Rick," Anna spoke up. "It wasn't that way, at all. I knew. Don't blame her. It was me, do ya hear me? I seduced her into bed with me and.... and I went out on the interstate and found her, cause... I wanted her with me. Don't ya understand? It was me. Rick?"

        He stared at her and shook his head. "You're lyin' for her, Anna. She's got ya so.. messed up, ya don't know right from wrong anymore. She deceived us both. Hell, I bet that about your old man beatin' ya ain't even true and even if it is he probably had every right to..."

        "Rick! Goddammit!" Anna exploded.

        I was really hurt now and mad. Tears rimmed my eyes, as I turned my back to him, grabbed the bottom of my shirt and yanked it up. "Does this look like a lie to you?"

        There was dead silence in the room.

        Anna finally reached over and pulled the shirt down, then took hold of my hand, urging me to turn back around. "Rick, you don't seem to understand, this is what I want," she said, lacing her fingers with mine.

        "I don't really think you know what you want, right now, babe," he said, his tone calmer than it had been. "But, I do know that it sure as hell ain't me." He turned and began moving towards the side door.

        "Rick... Rick!" She started after him. "We should talk when you calm down."

        "Don't seem to be anythin' left to talk about. I'll come back for my stuff... some other time." I heard the storm door slam.

        "Don't let this ruin our friendship!" she called after him.

        I didn't hear his reply, if he gave one.

        She came back looking concerned and sad.

        "I'm sorry," I offered.

        She waved the apology aside and walked over to me. "Hold me," she said, simply.

        I felt guilty. She'd told me that they'd started out as friends. He had come to see her in the hospital, as well as here, when she was recovering from her injuries. Not long after that, the sexual relationship started and it had lasted for nearly a year and a half. In which time, they'd seen each other twice a week, until his route changed, bringing him to town only once a week. This was the catalyst to a rapid deterioration of the relationship. They stopped having sex a few weeks into his route change. There had been someone else in the picture, as well, but she didn't say who. From the encounter with Brandi, I assumed she'd had something to do with it. Despite this, however, the friendship, borne out of their initial encounter, had somehow survived the past three years. Now, that was most likely gone. And it was because of me.

        "I didn't mean for this...."

        "It's his problem," she interrupted. "He'll be back. He'll go blow off steam, calm down and then... he'll be back. He's done this sorta thing before."

        "I hope you're right. I kinda liked him. He was... nice to me. I hope the two of you can still be friends, I'd hate..."

        "Ssh..." she interrupted again. "Just hold me, hmm?"

        After only a few moments of obliging her request, I wasn't sure who was comforting who. For, she had started lightly kissing on my neck and running her hands over my back and my behind. She was doing things I would have normally considered foreplay, and my body was reacting to them as such.

        "Make love to me," she whispered, pressing our bodies together.

        "What? Now?" I asked, quite confused.

        This was the first time either of us had even broached the subject since Tuesday morning. I had been waiting on her, since I didn't want to say or do anything and have her tell me "no" because she had been with one of her "johns" and didn't feel up to it. Not that she had said anything like that yet, but I didn't want there to even be a first time.

        "Yes, now," she answered, as she took my hand and started leading me away.

        "Anna... Anna, wait. Don't... don't use me like this."

        She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. "Use you?"

        "Yeah. To... make up for the loss of Rick's..."

        "Jesus H. Christ, Darby!" she exploded, letting go of my hand. "That's the furthest thing from my mind! I'll have you know I was about to come and get you before he stormed in here. I was watchin' you out the window while I was on the phone, dammit! It wasn't nothin' 'bout him that got me excited. It was watchin' your cute little ass in those damn sweat pants or... whatever the hell you call them things you got on. But if you feel I'd be usin' you, then by all means forget I ever mentioned it!" She spun around on her bare heels and stomped out.

        I stood there in the kitchen doorway, speechless and feeling stupid. I leaned back against the doorframe and slid down it to a crouched position.

        "Damn!" I hissed, running my fingers through my hair, as my wandering eyes came to rest on the cordless phone, which was on the counter near the window.

        I rubbed my hand over the soft cotton material of the pants, which weren't exactly sweat pants, since they were not fleece lined. Yet, it was a close approximation of what to call them. She had taken me shopping on Wednesday, so that I now had two new pairs of jeans, four pairs of these pants, six T-shirts to match and several pairs of underwear.

        "How do I make up to her?" I asked, aloud to an empty room.

        Then an idea sprang to mind.

        "Hello," she answered, after six rings, an edge of irritation in her voice. I knew she had been looking for something during that time.

        "I'm waiting for you," I said softly.

        "Who is... Darby?"

        "I believe you know the way, don'cha?"

        She chuckled. "You devil." Then she hung up.

        When she came into the bedroom, I was laid out across the bed on my stomach, wearing nothing but a clean pair of those non-sweat pants.

        "You like?" I inquired.

        She smiled broadly and sniffed the air. I knew she could tell I had taken a shower and put on some of her perfume. "Um-hum, I like a lot."

        It was different this time. There seemed little urgency like before, when neither of us was sure I would stay. The passion was just as great and the fire in my loins burned just as hot, if not more so, but we spent much more time leading up to that most glorious moment of completion.

        "Roll over on your stomach," she suggested, when she had extinguished her cigarette.

        I didn't ask why; for, I assumed she wanted to heat things up again. Perhaps doing things a bit differently.

        She eased over beside me and began running her hand over my behind, very slowly. Then she moved up my back and over to each side, at the same slow and careful pace. When she suddenly stopped close to one of the worst scars, I realized what she had been doing all along.

        "We haven't talked about these," she said, breaking the silence.

        I wrapped my arms around the pillow and held on. I had never discussed these with anyone and wasn't sure I could even now.

        "Mine broke my arm, the first time," she said, laying her head against my back, as her fingers lightly traced one of the long scars on my behind. "I learned not to fight after that," she added. "I... never told anyone. He told her that I'd fallen out of bed and... I never offered to correct him. He said he'd kill me if I ever told and... my arm was proof enough that he could, if he wanted."

        She paused, her hand continuing to roam over my behind. "It... was always from behind. That's... how I knew... what you were afraid of and... that's why I did that to you. Someone else did it for me, years ago."

        "Who?" I inquired.

        "I... don't like to... talk about the past much." She cleared her throat. "I just wanted you to know... I understand how you feel about this. And... I wanna help make the hurt go away." She shifted her position, raising up and maneuvering on top of me, as she kissed the scars on my right side.

        Slowly and methodically, she continued down the right side to my behind, then moved across to the left side, placing a kiss on each scar. When she finished, she laid down on top of me. Images of him flashed through my mind momentarily, causing me to tense up.

        "One day, baby, you won't even think about him anymore," she whispered.

        I hoped she was right.

        "I'll see you later, baby," she said, kissing my cheek.

        "Huh? What? Where ya goin'?" I asked, wiping sleep out of my eyes.

        "I have to go to the club, remember? I left dinner in the oven for you. I didn't want to wake you." She brushed the hair out of my eyes.

        "No, don't go," I pleaded, raising up.

        "I have to, baby."

        "You let Tiny handle it once before," I reminded.

        "Uh-huh and look what happened... he didn't even clean up. I'll be back before you know it." She got up.

        She was wearing a black leather mini skirt and a form fitting, matching vest with criss-cross ties in front and no blouse underneath. Her cleavage was clearly visible and enticing.

        I grabbed her arm and pulled her back down for one more kiss. "Soon I'll be able to go with you. I'll be eighteen in two months."

        "Oh, really. I didn't know that. You've finished high school then?"

        I shook my head. "They um... held me back because I wasn't six when school started."

        "When's your birthday?"

        "December 10th."

        "I see. So, why'd you wait until you were almost eighteen to run away, hmm?" she asked, as if she didn't believe I was that old.

        "I... I guess, I always hoped that some... hero would come along and... save me."

        Her lips turned up into a smile that quickly faded. "There's very few of those around these days."

        "I know. I found that out. I ran away twice before, but... I never made it far. I hoped that if I could... stay gone for at least three months, then... I'd really be free."

        She nodded then got up. "I don't want you 'round the club, during the shows, Darby."

        "Why not?"

        "It's just... not the right place for you."

        "Why not, you're there."

        "I don't want to argue about this now. We'll talk about it later, okay."

        "You're treatin' me like a child," I protested.

        "Then don't act like one."

        "Anna..."

        "I gotta go. I'll see you, tonight." She disappeared out the door.

        I flopped back on the pillows, pissed at her for treating me like a child. Yet, I was acting like one, wasn't I? Matter of fact, I had been acting like one since the day she brought me home with her. I was falling back into old routines. Cooking, cleaning and waiting on the bread winner to come home. Only this time, I wasn't waiting with dread, but anticipation.

        I would sit at the kitchen table each night, with a late night snack ready and waiting for her, anxious to hear what little she would divulge about her night. And eager to tell her what I had done, when she asked. Eager also, to run her bath and then wait for her to crawl beneath the sheets with me, where I'd snuggle up next to her, her arms encircling me, creating that oh so warm and safe feeling that I had come to know and love.

        This thought reminded me of my long ago fantasies about the hero that would save me: The white knight in his shiny armor, riding up on his trusty steed to save the poor damsel in distress. Or sometimes just a passing stranger, who happened to wander by and see me, fall madly in love with me and spirit me away with him to a wonderful place where I felt safe and warm and truly loved. But, this hero had never showed up. Or had he?

        I'd never seen his face, after all. My fantasy merely gave the suggestion of what I thought a hero should be. Could it be that my hero had showed up after all? It just hadn't been a he, but a she? And that she couldn't find me, until I took the first few steps in her direction?

        Anna was the hero, wasn't she? She had saved me and was still saving me from him, each and every time she tried to heal those old wounds; replacing painful memories of him with loving ones of herself. Then why was I expecting her to do everything for me? Hadn't she done enough? Wasn't it time I did something on my own now? How could I expect her to treat me like an adult, if I wasn't acting like one? And why should I expect her to give me a job at her club? Shouldn't I go out and get one of my own? Show her that I was worthy of her heroism.

        Yes, I should and I would.

Continued in Chapter 7