Jamie leaned back in the bus seat, watching the scenery breeze by. She was sitting alone, as was every other player on the team. Having been on Ryan’s team bus, she knew that not all of the athletes on Cal’s teams were so reserved, but she had to admit that golf at the college level was a funny sport. One of the most individually focused sports, their collective success or failure depended on team results. Each individual score was added together, giving the team a score for the day. At the end of the three-day tournament, their cumulative scores were added up to create huge numbers. But even with a total of over 900 points, the difference between first and second place was usually only a few points. So a poor round — a single missed putt — by one individual, could drop a team from first to second or even third place.

In Jamie’s opinion, most golfers put a lot of pressure on themselves — but to have your entire team counting on you to hit a fairway or make a chip was often more than an inexperienced young woman could handle.

Scott Godfrey, the head coach, came down the aisle and sank into the seat beside Jamie. Leaning over so only she could hear him, he asked, "How do you feel about doing a little mentoring?"

"Mentoring?"

"Yeah. We normally assign rooms at random, but I’m having second thoughts about doing that. I thought that I could assign an upperclassman to a room with each of the two freshmen to give them a little support. Lauren and Samantha both seem a little freaked out, and I thought it might help."

"I’m happy to help if I can, Scott," she said. "Do you mind a suggestion?"

"No, not at all."

"Don’t ask Juliet to do this. I know she’s the only other senior, but she’s so focused on her own game that I don’t think she’d be any help at all."

"Yeah," Scott nodded, "that would be like having one of the freshmen in a single room, wouldn’t it?"

"Just about," she said. "How about Margo? She’d loosen one of them up."

"That’s a good idea," he said. "Margo doesn’t let anything bother her — and that’s the attitude I want the freshmen to develop."

"Well, I volunteer to room with Lauren," Jamie said. "She’s clearly the more nervous of the two."

"Good deal, Jamie," Scott said. "Thanks for helping out."

"My pleasure," she said. "I’m very excited about this season. I think we’re gonna surprise some people."

* * * * * * * * * * *

After settling into their rooms, the golfers gathered in a good-sized banquet room. Scott and his assistant coaches stood in the center of a circle of chairs, and all of the girls chose a seat. Jamie looked across the room at Juliet, regretting that they’d barely spoken since the incident at Juliet’s home. But, even though Jamie felt bad about the chilly reception she got, she wasn’t about to go too far out of her way to reassure the woman. From her perspective, Juliet had issues far too complex for Jamie to understand; and given that the taciturn woman was loath to discuss them, she didn’t see many options.

Waiting until everyone was settled, Scott said, "Since we start our spring schedule tomorrow, this seemed like a good time to get to know each other. We’re going to have to be each other’s cheerleaders, since we don’t have a home course, and most of our matches are played quite some distance from Berkeley. So, what we’d like to do today is to spend some time learning the basics about everyone.

"I’d like each of you to interview every other player." The girls all gave each other puzzled looks, while Scott continued. "Ask your teammates any questions about themselves, their families, their golfing careers … anything that you think is important to know about a teammate. When we’re all done, I’ll ask some questions to see who did the best job. We have a very nice prize for the winner — so do your best, girls."

He passed out pencils and notepads to all of the players, then said, "Let’s go! We’ll be back in an hour to see who the best interviewer is."

* * * * * * * * * * *

To Jamie’s surprise, she won the competition hands-down; beating her closest competitor by 9 points. "Excellent job, Jamie," Scott said. "I hope you’re planning on going to law school, because you’d be a great trial lawyer."

"No plans to do that, Scott," she said. "Maybe I’ll become a journalist, instead."

Scott signaled one of his assistants, and to Jamie’s surprise, he came back in with a beautiful, new golf bag. "One of our alums is working at Titleist, selling golf equipment," he said. "She generously donated this beautiful bag that we’ll have your name put on."

"Wow," Jamie said, genuinely impressed. The big, navy blue bag had a large gold, embroidered logo of the university on the side, as well as room for Jamie’s name. "This is so cool, Scott!"

"I hope you enjoy it, Jamie. And, for the record," he announced to the assembled group, "we have one more. We’re going to award that one to the low scorer for the tournament."

"Thanks very, very much," she beamed, very pleased with the gift.

After a break for snacks, Scott introduced the next event. "Now, I’d like each of you to talk about your ultimate goal in golf. Don’t be afraid to be immodest," he warned. "Jamie, since you were the winner in the last contest, you can start out."

She collected her thoughts and said, "As you all know from the interviews, I played on my high school team. But, I didn’t think I had the game to play at the collegiate level, so I didn’t even try to get a golf scholarship. I made some changes last year that allowed me to play more of a power game, and that’s what gave me the nerve to try out for the team this year.

"I’ve found that I really love the game, and I don’t want to give it up next year. I know I’m not good enough to play on the pro tour, and I wouldn’t want to live that life even if I were good enough — but I don’t want to stop competing.

"So, I’d say I have two goals. One, is to play as well as I possibly can this spring, and help take us to the NCAA tournament; the other is to continue to play as an amateur, and eventually be able to compete in the U.S. Amateur tournament."

"Thanks, Jamie," Scott said. "I think that both of those goals are attainable. Now, who wants to go next?"

* * * * * * * * * * *

By the time they were all finished, it was time for dinner. The dining room was set up with a number of small tables, each one for 4 players. Jamie intentionally sat with the sophomores, since she knew those players less well than any of the others. They had an enjoyable meal, mostly talking about golf, as usual, but Jamie enjoyed herself, nonetheless.

After the meal, Scott said, "As our last planned activity, I’d like each of you to choose one person who you trust, and talk about your life goals. I know that it’s easy to let golf take over your lives, but I want you to think beyond that. What would you do if you couldn’t play any longer? Do you plan on having a family? What kind of career would you like to pursue? These are questions that many of us don’t stop to think about until our golf careers come to a halt — sometimes involuntarily. So, I’d like you to think about them now, and discuss your thoughts with a teammate. I won’t make assignments, since I want you to be able to open up, and I know that’s not easy to do with a stranger. So, pick your partners, and have a good evening. We won’t meet up again after this, so I’ll see you all at breakfast tomorrow."

The girls all sat around looking at each other nervously for a moment, then they all sought out their best friend on the team and took off. Not surprisingly, the only two left were Jamie and Juliet. Most of the girls were completely intimidated by Juliet, so it made sense that no one chose her, but Jamie had to admit that she had no more real friends than Juliet did.

Standing, she walked slowly over to the woman, shrugged her shoulders, and said, "Where would you like to go to talk?"

"Uhm … we don’t have to tell Scott what we talk about, do we?"

"No, I think he made it clear that this is private. Don’t worry, Juliet, this is only between you and me."

"Oh … uhm … I uhm … thought that if we weren’t gonna have to tell him what happened, we could go to our rooms. I don’t really have anything to say, Jamie."

Jamie stood a little closer to the woman and adopted one of her most serious looks. "Get up."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get … up … now."

Eyes wide, Juliet did so, stumbling a little as she pushed her chair back.

"Look, you’ve been acting like an idiot. You made a pass at me, I told you no. Leave it behind you, for God’s sake! You didn’t stab me, Juliet — you showed me that you found me attractive. Now, you might be willing to have this level of distance for three and a half months, but I’m not. I want this team to win, and the only way to do that is if we play as a team. Now, get over yourself."

Juliet nodded, looking mortally embarrassed. "I … I’m sorry, Jamie. I don’t know what else to say. I’m very, very sorry."

"That’s over, Juliet. I’ve let it go — now, you have to."

"I don’t know if I can," she said softly.

"Let’s go somewhere and talk this out," Jamie said. "Do you want to go to the bar?"

"No, no, I couldn’t talk about this in a public place. Someone might hear."

Blowing out a frustrated breath that fluttered her bangs, Jamie said, "Fine. Who are you rooming with."

"No one. I’ve got the single."

"Come on," Jamie said, heading purposefully for the elevator.

Annoyingly jingling a pair of coins in her pocket, Juliet asked, "Are you sure you’re willing to come to my room? I mean … after what happened …"

"Do you have a hearing problem?" Jamie asked, nearly ready to resort to violence. "I told you that I have completely put that behind us. I meant that, Juliet."

"I haven’t had a thing to drink," Juliet promised. "Actually, I haven’t had a drink since that night. I don’t think I’ll ever drink again."

"Thanks for the reassurance," Jamie said, giving her a scowl. "Now, I don’t mean to insult you, but if you tried anything again, I’d knock your block off. I’m meaner than I look, Juliet, and after warning you once, I wouldn’t have a problem in the world with popping you one."

"Jamie, I swear I won’t …"

The blonde grabbed her teammate by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake. "Shut up! I’ll also pop you one if you apologize again. Jesus Christ!"

Not another word was spoken as the elevator doors opened to take them up to the third floor. Juliet’s hands were shaking noticeably as she slipped her key card into the lock, and Jamie felt a stab of regret for being so harsh with her. They entered the room, and Jamie sat down at the table, with Juliet choosing the most distant bed.

"Okay," Jamie said, trying to smile. "I guess I’ll start." At Juliet’s puzzled look, she said, "We have an assignment to complete … remember?"

"Oh! Right … go right ahead."

"Well … my goals for the future are to continue to work on my relationship with Ryan," Jamie began. "We’ve only been together since June, and we still have a lot to learn about each other. Actually," she said, smiling more genuinely, "I hope we’re always learning things about each other."

"That must be nice," Juliet said, trying to match Jamie’s smile.

"It is. And, since we love each other so much, we want to share our love with at least one child. Ryan hints at having a house full of kids, but I think we’ll be able to work out an accommodation."

Juliet looked at her with longing in her eyes. "God, I can’t imagine doing that."

"Having children?"

"Uhm … yeah. I ahh … don’t think I’ll ever do that."

"Why not, Juliet? A lot of women on the LPGA tour have kids."

The taller woman shrugged. "I don’t think I will."

"Okay," Jamie said, getting the message that Juliet didn’t want to reveal her reasons. "Well, even though Ryan will always be my top priority, both of us plan on having careers. I’m not at all sure what I want to do, but, luckily, I’m not under pressure to make a decision quickly. We’re going to take next year off and spend the time making some long-term decisions." Jamie looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I used to think that the most important thing was what you accomplished in life. But, I’ve changed my thinking on that completely. For me, I’ll have lived a good life if Ryan and I have a loving, caring relationship; and our children grow up to be good people. Accomplishments are so hollow if you don’t have someone who loves you and can’t wait to see you at the end of the day."

Jamie had been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn’t looked at Juliet for a while. When she turned to her, she saw the woman bent at the waist, her arms wrapped around herself; crying soundlessly. Jamie got up and went to the disconsolate woman, sitting next to her on the bed and gently touching her back. "Juliet, it’s obvious that you’re deeply troubled by something. I don’t want to intrude, but I would like to help you if I can. I’m a very good listener, and I promise that I’ll never tell anyone anything that you tell me."

"You’ll tell Ryan," Juliet sobbed. "You told her that I tried to kiss you."

"No, I won’t," Jamie said. "I only told Ryan about what happened at your house because that affected both of us. We both try to be honest about things that happen to us — because keeping secrets can harm our relationship. But, this is about you, Juliet, and it’s none of Ryan’s business." Continuing to stroke Juliet’s back, she said, "I promise that I won’t reveal anything you tell me — to anyone."

"I can’t …" Juliet sobbed. "I can’t …"

"That’s okay," Jamie said. "You don’t have to talk to me. I want you to know that I’m willing …"

"No, no!" Juliet got up and walked to the window, staring out at the parking lot. "I can’t ever have what you have, Jamie. I can’t ever have that."

"What?" the blonde asked, perplexed.

Juliet turned and faced her, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "I can’t ever have a lover who I can be proud of. I won’t be able to have children … I will always have to hide … always!"

Looking at her with compassion, Jamie asked, "Are you a lesbian, Juliet?"

The tall woman nodded, her eyes closing in pain.

"Why does that mean that you can’t ever be open?" Jamie asked. "You make it sound like you’re going into the military."

"It’s almost the same," Juliet said. "You can’t survive on the LPGA tour without sponsors, and sponsors run for the hills if there’s even a hint of lesbianism. The Tour is trying to focus on the pretty, straight girls to increase viewership and attendance, and they think they have to appeal to straight men to do that."

"So, you plan on what — dating guys, getting married?"

"I will if I have to," Juliet said, her normal determination back in place. "I’ve worked too hard to give up my dream."

"But, you have other dreams, Juliet. I can see that."

"Yeah, of course I do, but those dreams are going to have to wait. My life is golf, Jamie, and I can’t let myself get sidetracked. Being around you and Ryan and Mia made me start wishing for things I can’t have. For a short time, I let myself have the fantasy that I could live like you guys do — but I can’t. Not now."

"Juliet, it doesn’t have to be like this," Jamie insisted. "You could live a quiet, private life as a lesbian. I’m sure dozens of players do so."

"Yes, you can," Juliet admitted. "But, I don’t want to merely get by. I want to have endorsements, and opportunities to do other things in golf when my productive years are over. The only women who get endorsements now are the straight ones. That’s not my imagination, Jamie. It’s the truth."

"Only you know what’s most important to you, Juliet. That’s not the path I’d choose, but I’m not in your shoes. I uhm … guess this means that you can’t afford to be friends with me."

Giving her a wistful look, Juliet said, "I wish I could, but it’s too hard for me. I do better when I stick to golf and school. I can’t stand the temptation."

"I understand," Jamie said. She got up and walked to the door. "If you ever need to talk, I hope you know you can count on me."

"I do," Juliet said, nodding. "I want to normalize things on the course, Jamie, but I can’t see you socially. Is that okay?"

"Sure. I’d like to keep playing golf with you, Juliet. I’ve learned a lot from you during the times we’ve played, and I’d like to keep that going."

"I would, too." Giving Jamie a smile, Juliet said, "Thanks for everything. I’ve … uhm … never come out to anyone before. It feels … weird." Her head cocked and she added, "Good, but weird."

"I know, Juliet. Believe me, I know."

* * * * * * * * * * *

When Jamie’s cell phone finally rang late that night, she grasped for the little device and croaked, "Hi."

"Oh … were you asleep?"

"Yeah." She got up and went into the bathroom, so she didn’t disturb her roommate. "That’s okay. I wanted to wait up for your call, but I crashed. Did you just get home?"

"Yeah. Bad weather. We sat on the runway for three hours while an electrical storm was stalled over New Mexico. 8 beautiful hours to get to San Francisco."

"Poor baby. You get to sleep now. You’ve got an early class."

"I will. Did you have a good day? I feel out of the loop after not talking to you."

"Yeah, I had a good day. Mom and I took Caitlin to church at Poppa’s. It was pretty funny, Ryan. Cait got to go to communion, and she decided that she rather likes red wine. Her face scrunched up a little, but then she started looking for more."

"That’s my girl," Ryan said. "Never met a meal she didn’t like."

"I’ll let you go now, so you can get to sleep."

"Okay," Ryan sighed. "Love you."

"I love you, too, Ryan. See you soon."

After she hung up, Jamie stumbled back into bed, mentally slapping herself when she realized she hadn’t even asked whether Cal had won. Get your priorities straight, girl! You’re married to a jock!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ryan was standing in the kitchen, getting a cold drink before she went to bed, when Mia got in. When she heard the noise, Ryan poked her head out, and was startled to see her roommate looking pale, tired and red-eyed. "Welcome home," Ryan said, padding across the floor in her bare feet to offer a hug.

Mia let out a sigh, unable to even summon the strength to respond with a smile. She wrapped her arms around Ryan, letting her cheek rest against the strongly beating heart she could feel beneath the ribbed undershirt. "She came out to her parents," she finally got out in a near monotone.

Ryan moved back and grasped Mia by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length to get a good look at her. "How badly did it go?" she asked in alarm.

Realizing why Ryan looked so alarmed, Mia hastened to reassure her. "It didn’t go badly — I guess. I … I don’t know, Ryan. I feel so sad for her, that I’m sick to my stomach."

"Let me make you a warm drink," Ryan offered. "You go upstairs and put your jammies on."

"But what about Jamie? Isn’t she waiting for you?"

"She’s over in Vallejo, remember?"

"Oh, right. Now, where were you again?"

"Las Cruces, New Mexico. Luckily, we’re almost through with our nationwide tour. PAC-10 play can’t start soon enough for me. Now you go get ready for bed, and I’ll bring you some Sleepytime tea."

Five minutes later, the taller woman arrived with a warm mug and a warmer smile. Mia was still on the phone, but she got off quickly, relaying Ryan’s blown kiss to her lover. "She said she loves you, too," Mia said, trying to, but not matching Ryan’s smile.

"Here ya go," Ryan said, handing her the mug. "Come sit on the bed, and I’ll rub your shoulders. Your back must be stiff from all of that driving."

"Yeah," she said. "That and spending all of yesterday in a limo. I guess that’s as comfortable a car as you can have, but it still sucks as a bed."

"Wanna elaborate on that?" Ryan asked as she started to massage Mia’s tense shoulders.

"Oh, it’s nothing very interesting. The photo shoot was on the beach, and it was cold. So, while my sweetie had to pose on the beach all day in a tiny pair of shorts, I slept in the back seat of a limo. I got the better end of the deal."

"Tough weekend, huh?"

"In a way. But being with her is worth anything, Ryan. She’s so … I don’t know," she said, shaking her head. "I’ve never felt like this about anyone. She means so much to me." She glanced over her shoulder and mused, "It’s odd. You’re the one who lost her mom, but Jordan seems like the motherless child. Do you know what I mean?"

Ryan nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do. She’s very fragile — she seems so lost sometimes."

"You should have met the mother," Mia said, all traces of warmth gone from her voice. "She seemed okay at first, and if I didn’t know how Jordan felt, it would have been a decent visit. But I do know, and by the end of it, I felt like her mom had carved a hole in my soul and was slowly sucking it out." Her whole body shivered and she said, "She made me feel so inconsequential — so unnecessary, Ryan. I got a taste of how Jordan feels — and it sucks."

"Was she mean or bitchy?" Ryan asked.

"No, no, just the opposite. She was very cordial … but they acted like people who barely knew one another. They were polite — and that’s it! We were together for about an hour and a half, and she didn’t ask Jordan one question about herself. She didn’t ask how things were going in Colorado; she didn’t ask if she was getting any playing time — nothing! Her only concern was about herself — and how things were going to be for her when she got to Sydney."

"Brutal," Ryan murmured.

"It was brutal," Mia said. "Her mom didn’t give a good goddamn about us being lovers. I mean, it’s not like she approved or anything — she didn’t care enough to disapprove!"

"That’s the first time I’ve heard that reaction," Ryan shuddered, "and I thought I’d heard them all."

"Something else happened, but I don’t know what," Mia said. "She and her mom were together for about 20 minutes, and when she got back to the room she looked like she’d been beaten."

"And you don’t know what happened?"

"Not a clue. She clammed up and didn’t say a word about it — but she cried for nearly two hours after she talked to her father — so I’m guessing that the whole day finally caught up with her."

"Damn," Ryan said, shaking her head. "How was her dad?"

"Better. He seems to at least care for her — not enough to cross the street to see her, mind you, but he does seem to care in the abstract."

"She didn’t get to tell him in person?" Ryan gasped.

"Of course not! His masseuse was coming."

"Fuck," Ryan muttered. "Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have an aquarium — much less a child."

"They’re the poster parents for vasectomy and tubal ligation," Mia said. "I hope to God that Jordan doesn’t take after them if we decide to have kids."

Ryan’s hands stilled and she leaned over Mia’s shoulder to stare at her upside down. "Kids? You’re thinking of having kids together?"

Mia batted at her weakly, and Ryan went back to her previous position. "Yes, Ryan. I’m thinking of spending the rest of my life with her. That is what you do with people you love more than anything on earth, isn’t it?"

Ryan sank down to sit behind Mia, and she enveloped her in a warm hug. "Yes. That’s exactly what you do," she whispered. "I’m so glad she has you, Mia."

"I’m glad I have her," Mia sighed. "I only wish her parents loved her half as much as I do."

* * * * * * * * * * *

On Monday morning, Jamie woke slowly, the annoying buzz of an alarm barely penetrating her foggy brain. "Jamie … Jamie …" A soft voice insistently called her name, but she didn’t recognize the tone, and decided that she must be dreaming. "Jamie!" Now a hand grasped her shoulder and gave her a shake.

"Huh?"

"Time to get up. We’re leaving in a half hour."

Forcing her eyes open, she regarded a very young looking, Japanese-American woman who was gazing at her with concern. "Oh!" She sat up rather abruptly and ran a hand through her hair. "Wow, I was really out."

"You’re very hard to wake up," Lauren Takuta said. "It’s a good thing we don’t have single rooms. I’m afraid you’d sleep all day."

"No," Jamie replied, stretching thoroughly. "I eventually hear the alarm. How much time do we have?"

The young woman looked at the clock again. "Twenty five minutes. You’d better hurry." She was giving Jamie such a concerned look, that the blonde didn’t have the heart to delay another moment. Slipping out of bed, she got up and gathered her shower things, noting that Lauren was completely dressed.

"I assume you’re finished in the bathroom?" Jamie asked over her shoulder.

"Yes. I’ve been ready for a long while now."

Finally opening her eyes wide enough to see the look of stark anxiety on the woman’s face, Jamie smiled and said, "We’re gonna be fine today, Lauren. It’s only another round."

"Not for me," she said. "My parents will be here."

"Do they put a lot of pressure on you?" Jamie asked gently.

"No, but it’s very important that I do well," Lauren insisted. "I have to keep my scholarship."

Jamie crossed over to the girl and put her hand on her shoulder, feeling the slight tremor that shook her body. "Lauren, you won’t lose your scholarship. Scott would never do that — even if you played horribly all season — which you won’t!"

Lauren nodded, but she didn’t look at all convinced. Glancing at the clock again she said, "You have to hurry. We’ll be late."

"Go on down to the restaurant," Jamie insisted. "I’ll be on time, I guarantee it."

"Okay," Lauren said hesitantly.

Jamie stood in the shower, trying to wake up. She considered the dynamics of the young team, deciding that they had the nucleus of a very good squad. The only problem was going to be convincing the less experienced women to believe that they were as good as they actually were.

When Jamie emerged from the shower, she shook her head when she saw that Lauren had neatly laid her uniform out on the bed. Who’s mentoring whom?

* * * * * * * * * * *

After Jamie made sure that Lauren ate some of the food that sat on her plate, the team hopped in the shuttle bus for the short ride to the course. They had an eight a.m. shotgun start — so every player teed off at the same time, albeit from different holes. This type of start was used often in tournaments, allowing every hole to be in use throughout the round. Jamie was scheduled to start on eighteen, and after warming up thoroughly, she headed on over to the tee.

A long-legged, raven-haired, beauty stood right next to the tee-box, dark sunglasses covering eyes that Jamie was quite sure were the color of the Aegean. The tall woman held two cups in her hands, and was sipping on the larger one when Jamie sidled up to her. "Come here often, good lookin’?"

"Every time I hear that there’s going to be a fantastic looking blonde playing golf here," she said. "I brought you a latte."

Jamie took the cup and stood on her tiptoes for a quick kiss, which Ryan gladly delivered. Taking a big sip of the still warm liquid, she smiled broadly. "What a nice way to start the day." Giving her partner an impish look, Jamie said, "I can’t tell you how hard it is not to wrap my lips and my arms and my legs around you, and kiss you until your knees turn to jelly."

"Same here, hot stuff, but I don’t think that’s how you want to start your spring season. You golf-types are supposed to be stoic, ya know. Besides, your opponent looks nervous enough to faint, even without us groping each other."

"Ooh, I hope she’s as nervous as she looks," Jamie said. "I’ll take every edge I can get." She took another big sip and hummed with pleasure. "This is so good, babe. It’ll start me off right."

"I know you don’t like plain coffee, and I figured that you hadn’t yet wound your coach around your little finger, and that he probably wouldn’t run to Starbucks for you. Only doing what I can to aid in the cause."

Jamie wrinkled her nose and said, "I appreciate the coffee, but what I’m really pleased with is that you’re here. Don’t you have somewhere you should be, though?"

"I’m not going to grad school next year," Ryan said. "So what if I flunk a class or two?"

Jamie knew the odds of that happening were exactly zero, but she played along. "You can always go to summer school," she offered. "Those classes are filled with you jock types."

"No way," Ryan said. "I’m gonna be way too busy this summer to waste my time in school. I’m spending the summer with an absolutely gorgeous woman. We’re gonna lie in bed and peel grapes for each other all day long."

"Sounds divine," Jamie said. "She’s a lucky woman."

"I hope she’s lucky today," Ryan said. "I wanna see some red numbers on that scoreboard, since I’m mortgaging my future to be here."

"Do my best," Jamie promised. "Help me put my ring on this necklace, okay?" she asked tugging at the thick gold chain she wore.

"How …?"

"Just unclasp the necklace and slip the ring through it," Jamie instructed. "I’d do it myself, but I don’t want to run the risk of not clasping it properly."

"Do you always do this?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah. I tried to do what you do and tie it in my shoelace, but I don’t want to drag it through the sand. I think this works better for me."

"That’s a pretty substantial ring to wear on a chain," Ryan said.

"I know," she said. "But, I’ll gladly look like Snoop Dogg to protect it. Now, kiss me goodbye and keep sending good vibes, babe, ‘cause I’m not going to look at you again until I finish up on 17."

"I look forward to being ignored," Ryan said. She gave her partner a chaste kiss and then accepted her empty cup. "Go get ‘em, bulldog."

"Grrrrrr."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Catherine didn’t show up until the twosome was on the fourth hole, and she was panting heavily when she came up alongside Ryan. "I got so confused!" she said, moaning dramatically. "I had no idea that Jamie wouldn’t start on the first hole. I’ve walked this entire course!"

"Aw … you poor thing," Ryan sympathized. "Want me to carry you for a while?"

Catherine gently slapped at her and said, "I can handle it, wise guy. I’ve been walking so much getting ready for the Three-Day that my neighbor’s dogs don’t even bark when I walk by any longer. I can easily walk this course twice."

"Not a doubt in my mind," Ryan said. "Jamie’s doing well," she indicated, pointing at the tote board that an affable-looking senior citizen carried.

"Red numbers are good, right?" Catherine asked.

"Right. Jamie’s one under par, so she has a red negative one by her name."

Catherine reached into her purse and took a photo of the board, showing EVANS –1. "This is so much fun, Ryan," she said, giggling girlishly. "She looks cute, doesn’t she?"

Ryan reached up and pulled her sunglasses up so that Catherine could see her eyes. "Was that a serious question?"

Swatting her again, the older woman said, "You’re very impish today, aren’t you?"

"A little," she said. "And yes, I agree that Jamie looks adorable. She looks good in those colors. Makes her hair look even blonder."

The Cal uniform consisted of a navy blue visor with Cal in bright gold script, a white polo shirt with a golden bear paw on the left sleeve, a navy blue sleeveless sweater with the Cal logo on the breast, and unadorned navy blue shorts. Ryan noted that under her white and navy saddle-style golf shoes, Jamie wore short socks with a bit of gold on the cuff.

"She really enjoys this, doesn’t she?" Catherine asked quietly, so as not to be heard by the players.

"Yeah. It’s been good for her. I had the feeling at first that she tried out for the team to make her father proud, but over time she seems to have changed her focus. I think she’s doing this only for herself."

Catherine reached down and grasped her daughter-in-law’s hand. "She needs to do something that she’s better at than you, too. You’re a tough person to compete against, Ryan O’Flaherty."

Ryan nodded, acknowledging the truth to Catherine’s statement, even though it embarrassed her to do so. "I think she’s far superior to me in dozens of ways, but I realize that she doesn’t always see that. I get a lot of acclaim for the things that I do, and Jamie deserves some of that, too."

"She does," Catherine said. "I’m glad that she’s got this. And I’m glad that you’ve encouraged her to play — even though it takes away from your time together."

"If everything goes according to plan, we’re in year one of a minimum 75 year plan," Ryan said. "I can bear having her gone for a day or two."

"I hope your plans all come true," Catherine said, squeezing the hand that she still held.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Jamie finished her round with a very respectable 73, and she seemed pleased with herself when she emerged from her tunnel-visioned state. After greeting her mother, the three of them walked back two holes to find Lauren’s group. The freshman was not having a very good day, and she looked very downhearted as she finished with a 77. Her parents were there to greet her when she holed out, and Jamie was pleased to see that they met her with smiles and encouraging hugs. "Who’s up for lunch?" she asked, now that she felt able to leave the course.

"I could be persuaded," Ryan said. "Wanna go to the clubhouse?"

"No way," Jamie said. "I have to eat dinner there tonight. The food’s not bad, but it’s not very inventive. I need something spicy."

As usual, Catherine knew of a place. They drove in Ryan’s car to a very tasty sushi bar, where Jamie’s spicy craving was well satisfied. At the end of the meal, she admonished Ryan to stay home the next day. "I’ll see you when you get home from softball practice," she insisted. "You need to go to your classes tomorrow."

"All right," Ryan said, her blue eyes peeking out of her bangs while she pouted. "But only if you’re going to be here to watch," she said, looking to Catherine.

"I wouldn’t miss it," the older woman said. "And I promise to call you when she finishes her first nine holes for an update."

"Now, that I can live with," Ryan said.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Later that afternoon, Ryan spent some time trying to track down one of her classmates to see what had gone on in class while she was playing hooky at the golf course. She was cutting across campus when she spotted Franny Sumitomo from the basketball team. "Hey, Franny! Wait up!"

The shy freshman stopped immediately, then turned and smiled when she saw Ryan. "Hi. How are you, Ryan? Feeling better?"

"Yeah, yeah, things are going pretty well. I’m with the softball team now, you know. Not to dis you guys, but the atmosphere is a heck of a lot better."

"You don’t have to tell me," Franny said. She looked around rather furtively, then said in a quiet voice, "I’ve been talking to the coaches at Oregon and Washington State about transferring. I don’t think I can stand another year here."

"Really? That surprises me," Ryan said. "I know it’s important for you to be close to home — and I know that you parents enjoy watching you play. They came to every home game, didn’t they?"

"Yes, they did," she said, "but Stanford isn’t interested in me. Their point guard is a freshman, too, and there’s no way I’m a better player than she is. Oregon and Washington State could both use me, and sitting out a year wouldn’t be too horrible. I mean, it’s not what I want — but I haven’t had any fun this year at all, and it seems silly to work this hard if it’s not enjoyable."

"Well, the two people I had the most trouble with will be gone next year," Ryan said. "Won’t that help?"

"Yes, I suppose so. But, to be honest — I don’t trust Coach Hayes. She’s let Janet and Wendy ruin this year for all of us. I think she lets her personal feelings for people get in the way of making the proper coaching decisions. I don’t even know if she cares anymore, Ryan. We’ve got 6 games left and the team is sleep-walking during practice. I’d quit now if it wouldn’t look so bad to the coaches at Oregon and WSU."

"Look, Franny, I know this year has been hard for you, but give it a couple of weeks before you make a decision about transferring. I also think you should talk to the coach about how you feel. She can be surprisingly empathetic if you catch her on a good day."

"Maybe I’ll talk to Lynette," Franny decided. "I don’t know if I have time to wait for a good mood to overtake Coach Hayes."

* * * * * * * * * * *

When she got home from school, Ryan called the private investigator, Dick Williams. "Hi, Mr. Williams, it’s Ryan O’Flaherty."

"Hi, Ryan. I was just about to wrap up our little matter. I’ve got some interesting things for you."

"Could I add one little bit, Mr. Williams? I know I wanted you to focus on Cassie Martin, but there are two more people who might have had a hand in this, and in a way, they’re nearly as culpable as Cassie is."

"Sure, Ryan. Give me their names, and I’ll get right on it."

* * * * * * * * * * *

On Tuesday morning, Ryan brought the papers in before she took off for school. As was her habit, she unfolded them and placed then on the kitchen table so that her partner had them waiting for her. Even though Jamie wouldn’t be home until late afternoon, Ryan wanted to maintain their normal routine to welcome her partner home. The New York Times was first, since Jamie said she had to read a real paper before she could stomach the Comical, as she called it. As Ryan set the Chronicle into place, she stopped abruptly when she spied the story on the bottom corner of the front page. "Sen. Evans fully backs Admin on gay policies."

This should be good, she said, rolling her eyes in reaction. She scanned the article, then went back and re-read it, shaking her head. What in the holy hell is wrong with that guy? It’s like he can’t stand to have things go well for any length of time.

Picking up the phone, Ryan dialed Jamie’s cell, smiling gently when her lover picked up on the first ring. "This had better be my father, saying that he was maliciously misquoted," the blonde said.

"No, it’s just me, offering sympathy."

"Well, that wasn’t the best headline for me to see first thing this morning," Jamie said. "Poor Lauren nearly fainted at the string of profanities that I let out. I think she’s down talking with Scott right now about changing roommates."

"Hey, you’re understandably upset," Ryan assured her.

"Yeah, upset about covers it. My stupid father got cornered and declared that he supported ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’, and the congressional ‘defense of marriage’ bill."

"I can’t understand why he’d do that," Ryan said. "He’s already said he’s against Proposition 22. Isn’t the defense of marriage bill the same thing?"

"It is to me," Jamie said. "In fact, the defense of marriage bill is worse in my opinion. It not only prohibits the federal government from recognizing gay marriage, it forbids the government from honoring marriages that individual states sanction. That’s far worse than Prop 22. He’s like a friggin’ pendulum. Every bit of progress is met by an equal amount of backsliding."

"It does seem that way, doesn’t it," Ryan sympathized. "I’m pissed at him as your father, and I’m pissed at him as my senator. This sucks."

"It does," Jamie agreed, "and now I’ve got to call and scream at him before I go play tournament golf."

"I’ve gotta run, babe. I’ve got my cell phone on. If you need to call me — please do."

"Thanks. Have a good day. I’ll give Daddy your disgust."

Jamie waited patiently while her father’s secretary searched for him. He was in the Senate chambers, but he stepped outside and placed a return call on his cell phone. "Hi, Jamie, what’s up?" he asked, oblivious to her pique.

"I was more than a little upset to see your comments on those ridiculous policies the administration is backing, Dad."

"Huh … oh! Uhm … why would my comments upset you, honey? Those policies aren’t new."

"Why on earth would you stand up against Prop 22, and yet say that you’re in favor of the defense of marriage bill?" she nearly screamed. "That’s so inconsistent."

"Yeah, it probably is … a little bit," he agreed, "but the administration didn’t feel they could take the risk of going against the defense of marriage bill. It’s only politics, Jamie."

Sighing heavily, she said, "It might be politics to you, but it’s my life and my civil rights you idiots in Washington are playing with!"

"Hey!" he snapped, "I can hear that you’re angry, but I don’t appreciate being called an idiot!"

"Supporting the defense of marriage bill, while decrying the politics behind Prop 22 is idiotic," she said, enunciating each word.

"That’s your opinion, Jamie, but I would think you’d have some sympathy for the position we’re in here. It doesn’t do much good to take the kind of stand you advocate if you’re then voted out of office. You have to compromise, and take it slow."

She paused for a moment and quietly asked, "Dad, I have a question for you, and I’d appreciate a straight answer."

"Okay," he said hesitantly.

"How do you personally feel about those two issues? I don’t want the administration’s position. I want yours."

"Well," he said, delaying his answer as long as possible, "I uhm … guess that I tend to agree with the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. I mean, I know it’s not the best solution, but the leaders of the military are clear that it can’t work to allow gay people to serve alongside straight ones. I think we have to defer to their expertise."

"Uh-huh. We have to defer to their sweeping prejudices about gay people, about women serving in a combat role, etcetera, etcetera. Those are the people who you want to make social policy, right, Dad?"

"I know it’s not perfect, Jamie, I’ve already said that. But we have to have some policy, and this is the one that seems to be working."

She tried to control the steam that threatened to whistle from her ears, and asked her follow up question. "What about gay marriage? Where … do … you … stand?"

"I uhm … I think that gay people can definitely form loving unions that are as valid as a nor … uhm … regular … couple can have. You and Ryan are good examples of that."

"Uh-huh. Go on."

"But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give state sanction to those unions. I think it sets a bad example for kids."

"What?"

"Now, don’t get defensive," he said sharply. "You wanted to know my position, and I’m telling you."

"Fine. Tell me how it sets a bad example."

"Well, if someone is having a hard time deciding if they’re gay or straight, having the option of full acceptance might push him or her over the edge. If we retain some social disapproval, that person might stay straight. I honestly think it’s best to urge people to be straight if they can be."

Ignoring the idiocy of his answer, she posed her second question. "What about having children, Dad? What about adopting?"

"Uhm … I’m sure that you and Ryan would be fine parents, Jamie, but again, I don’t think the state should place children in a gay home. It gives the child an impression that can be dangerous."

She was quiet for a minute, her roiling stomach urging her to spit out some of the venom that was coursing through her gut. "And yet, you’ve agreed to participate in our wedding. Are you going to make a little speech about how our union sets a bad example? For God’s sake, at least have the courage of your convictions! If you think our union is wrong, I don’t want you there! And if you think our children will be raised in a dangerous environment I don’t want you to have anything to do with them!"

"Jamie, please, don’t go off the deep end."

"Look, Dad, I knew that you were having trouble with this, but I can’t have you participate in my marriage if you think it’s morally wrong. That’s not going to happen. I’m marrying Ryan in August, whether or not you’re there. Think about it and let me know if you’ll be part of our celebration." With that, she hung up, and pushed the off button on her phone. Thank God he’s four thousand miles away. I might actually strangle him if I could get my hands around his neck!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ryan called about an hour later, inquiring after Jamie’s mental health. "It didn’t go well," the blonde said. She proceeded to give her partner the low points, then added, "Right now I’m trying to think of how to get a blood sample from him to do some DNA testing. I’m absolutely sure he’s not related to my grandfather, or to me!" She let out a deep sigh, then said, "Wish me luck. I tee off in 10 minutes. I’m going to picture my father’s face on the golf ball — that should improve the length of my drives."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Knowing they would have a fiery, emotion-filled evening, Ryan poked her head in the front door after softball, slightly afraid that Jamie would be hurling breakables at the walls. But the house was completely quiet, save for some soft music coming from the second floor.

Immensely pleased at the encouraging sign, Ryan nearly skipped up the stairs. She was more excited about seeing Jamie than she could convey, and her skin was tingling when she tossed open the door to their bedroom. "Where’s the most beautiful woman in the world?" she called out.

"She’d better be opening the bathroom door to give me a proper welcome home," her lover replied.

Ryan pushed the door open a crack to find Jamie neck deep in a fragrant bubble bath. A tray filled with every possible type of sushi and sashimi was resting on the counter, along with a massive bottle of Kirin beer nestled in an ice bucket, alongside two plastic glasses. Placing her hands on her hips, Ryan shook her head and said, "You never cease to amaze me."

"Don’t stand there gaping at me," the low voice purred. "Drop those sweaty clothes and get in here."

Ryan did so, pausing to brush her teeth first. "I want to make a good impression," she winked.

She knew she’d have trouble kissing her partner once she got in, so the brunette knelt on the floor and spent a few minutes showing Jamie how lonely her lips had been. She did such a good job that the smaller woman considered ditching the dinner and the bath, but thought better of it when she realized she was starving. "Come on in, love. Bring the tray with you."

Ryan did so, securing the legs of the bed-tray as she placed it right next to the tub. It took a few minutes of fitting the human puzzle-pieces together, but she was soon nestled between Jamie’s thighs — her most favorite place on earth. "Could I be happier than this?" she asked rhetorically. "I think not."

"I’m pretty high on the happiness scale, too," the blonde murmured, leaning forward for a few nibbles of salty skin.

"How can that be?" Ryan wondered. "I thought you’d be foaming at the mouth about your dad."

"No, I unloaded on my father, but I’m pretty calm now." She shook her head and said, "Damn, Ryan, he and I sure set each other off."

"I know," the larger woman soothed. "Did you talk to your mom about what happened?"

"Yeah," Jamie replied glumly. "I talked to Poppa, too. Neither one of them seemed surprised by his position, and they each think that he’ll slowly alter his view." She shrugged and said, "Maybe I’m too impatient."

"You’re hurt," Ryan said, resting her head on her lover’s chest. After a moment, she felt Jamie start to relax, and soon their bodies were molded together. "I’m hurt, too," Ryan added.

"I guess that’s it," Jamie said softly. "It’s stunningly hurtful to have your father tell you that he thinks you’d be a bad influence on a child." She leaned forward to look at her partner, pain filling in her eyes. "How could he think that?"

"Easy," she sighed. "He’s letting his deeply held prejudices color his actions. It would be bad enough if he was only a parent, but he’s a senator, too. His actions affect millions and millions of people."

"It is just prejudice, isn’t it."

"Yep. It’s taking something that bothers you on a visceral level, and then intellectualizing a way to rationalize discrimination. For what it’s worth, it’s usually not done with malevolence. I’m sure your father believes what he said. He’s got so many negative images of gay people burned into his brain that he can’t let the positive images overcome them."

"But what do we do, honey? How do we reach him?"

"One thing is for sure. We don’t cut off contact with him. He needs to be around people who see us as complete human beings. Being around my family can only help."

Jamie nodded slowly. "You’re right of course, but I can’t bear the thought of seeing him right now." She shuddered and said, "He sent me an e-mail this afternoon where he justified discriminating against us with the analogy that it’s the same as discriminating against blind people who want a driver’s license. just because you can’t let them drive, doesn’t mean you think they’re bad or wrong for being blind. You’re only trying to protect society at large."

"Ouch!" Ryan said, making a face. "So being gay is a disability, or a birth defect, huh? Nice."

Jamie colored a little and revealed, "I shot back an e-mail that I’m not proud of. If he were President, the Secret Service would be over here by now."

Ryan nuzzled against her and said, "He’s hitting your hot buttons with this, honey. I know it’s hard, but I think you’ll feel better if you try not to hurt him as much as he’s hurt you."

"Yeah, yeah," she said in a mechanical voice. "Do unto others, and all that crap. I’m sick of thinking about it. Let’s talk about us."

They spent nearly an hour filling each other in on their weekends, then Jamie gave her partner an in-depth assessment of the golf team’s victory in Vallejo. "Wish I could have been there today," Ryan sighed. "It’s so reassuring to look up into the stands and see your face. I’ve enjoyed my sports so much more this year, Jamie. It’s been great, and I regret that I won’t be able to go to any of your away matches."

"You can make some of the local ones," the smaller woman reassured her. "Golf is a different type of sport, anyway. I don’t play off the crowd the way you do."

"Mmm … I guess that’s true. I still hate it, though."

"You’ll get your chance. I want to keep playing in amateur events once I graduate. I think the competition has been good for me. Maybe someday you can be in the gallery when I’m competing in the U.S. Amateur."

Ryan turned around as much as she could to gaze into her partner’s eyes. "The hell you say! I’ll be your caddie!"

Giving her a firm hug, Jamie pressed her cheek against her partner’s warm, wet, back. "You’d be the cutest caddie on legs," she murmured.

"That’s nice to think of," Ryan sighed. "I love to dream about our future."

"I do, too. And tonight, I want our immediate future to include lots of remarkably scandalous dancing. I want to be around gay people tonight. I want to act like the lesbian that I am, and not be belittled because of it. I want to be with my own kind!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

They dressed in their separate rooms, and when the larger woman came out she smiled at her partner. "I haven’t seen that outfit since the Dyke March. You look adorable."

Jamie pirouetted, bowing at the compliment. She wore a green ribbed tank top, green Army fatigues, and shin-height Doc Marten’s, with her pants tucked into the boots. She returned to the mirror and fussed with her hair, commenting, "I want my hair to stick up, but it’s a little too long."

"I like it this length," Ryan said, "but it would look cute shorter, too. Get it cut if you wish."

Jamie smiled and said, "I only want it to stick up tonight. I’m sure I’ll want it longer by tomorrow, so I’d better leave it alone."

"That would be the wiser course," Ryan said.

"Besides, I’ve been thinking about growing it out again. Would you like it long?"

With images of long, golden blonde hair trailing down Jamie’s bare back, Ryan found her head nodding mechanically. "Nice," she muttered.

"You sound like Homer Simpson," Jamie said, chuckling heartily. "I enjoy your long hair so much, that I thought you should see which way you like it better. I’ll grow it out and then let you choose how I wear it. Deal?"

"Long. I like it long," Ryan said, grinning like she’d been struck with a heavy object.

* * * * * * * * * * *

When they returned from the bar, Ryan sorted through the mail that Jamie had brought upstairs earlier in the evening. She opened a small, square envelope, pursed her lips as she read the card, then threw the card and envelope away.

"What was that?" Jamie asked.

"What?"

"What did you throw away? It looked like an invitation."

"Oh. It was. just some of my old buds from the gym. They have a big party every year to celebrate a couple of birthdays. Two of the women share a birthday and they always have a big blowout — a real wild one."

"Uhm … any particular reason that you threw it out without even mentioning it?"

"Oh! I assumed you wouldn’t be interested. Are you?"

"Well, gee, Ryan, when we met, you had dozens of friends. I remember you always talking about hanging out with your buddies. But now you don’t see any of them. Is that because of me?"

"Uh-huh," Ryan said, nodding.

"But why? I certainly don’t want you to stop seeing your friends. Don’t you … think they’d like me?"

"Aww … Jamie," Ryan said, tucking her arms around her partner and smiling when she heard her sigh heavily. "Of course they’d like you — I guess I assumed you wouldn’t like them."

Giving her a semi-perturbed look, Jamie asked, "And why is that? Am I too straight-laced for your friends?"

"Heck, no," Ryan said, trying to think of a reason that wouldn’t irritate her partner. "Well … uhm … you’re not straight-laced …"

"You think I’m straight-laced!" Jamie cried.

"No, no, I don’t," Ryan said. "I think they’re a little wilder than you are. Big, big difference."

Pouting, Jamie walked over to shut down her computer. "Is not," she grumbled.

"Yes, it is," Ryan said, coming up behind her and turning her around. "They’re more … I don’t know," she said, "they’re just kinda wild."

"I can keep up, Ryan," the blonde said, narrowing her eyes. "I think we should go, if you don’t have a softball game, that is."

"No, the party’s Saturday night, and my game is at home in the afternoon. I could be up for a party."

Smiling broadly, Jamie said, "Cool. Call them and accept."

Chuckling, Ryan said, "No need, babe. They won’t have any food, and they’ll buy a couple of kegs of beer and make everyone pay $5 to get in. The more the merrier."

Jamie’s eyebrows rose again. "No food? Like, none at all?"

"Hmm … if anyone remembers they might have a cake, but it’ll be from a grocery store. One year they were all jazzed ‘cause they got one half price since it was made up for someone’s anniversary."

"Well," Jamie said, her eyes widening. "This sounds like it will be interesting. Maybe we should drag Mia along with us. She always does well at parties."

"Sure, that’d be fine. But, she’ll attract a lot of attention in this crowd. The drunker they get, the cooler they think they are."

"She seems so down, honey, I think we should do whatever we can to cheer her up. Having a bunch of women flirt with her is a sure-fire picker-upper."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Once she was dressed in her warmest pajamas, Jamie said, "I think I heard Mia come in a few minutes ago. I’m gonna go see how she’s doing."

"Okay. I’ve got some work to do for class tomorrow. I’ll be in my room."

"I hope you don’t plan on working late, sweet cheeks. I’m gonna have my way with you tonight — and I don’t want to get started at midnight."

Giving her a very sexy grin, Ryan said, "I’ll gladly fit you into my schedule. I missed you something fierce."

"I’ll be back in a few. Work fast."

Walking down the hall, Jamie cocked her head as she tried to discern what the odd sound coming from Mia’s room was. Poking her head in, she saw her roommate lying on her stomach, head buried in her pillow. Her body was shaking roughly, and she was obviously crying, but the sound was muffled and distorted by the pillow.

Approaching the bed, Jamie sat down gingerly, so as not to frighten her friend. "Mia, baby, what’s wrong?" She ran her hand up and down her back, feeling the heat that radiated off her body.

Rolling over, Mia looked up at her with swollen eyes and said, "I’m scared shitless, but I’m gonna tell my parents about Jordan."

"That’s why you’re crying?" Jamie asked, confused.

"No," Mia sniffed. "I’m crying because I just talked to Jordan. I’m so worried about her, James. Did Ryan tell you that she came out to her parents?"

"Yeah, she did. It didn’t sound like it went very well."

"I have a feeling that not many things go well with those two. Her mom was the most self-involved person I’ve ever met, and even talking to her seems to wear Jordan down. I don’t know what the deal is with her father," she sighed. "Jordy idolizes him, but he gives her that Hollywood bullshit that everyone seems to thrive on in L.A. Do you know what I mean?"

"No, not really. What does Hollywood have to do with it?"

"I saw this constantly when I was working in the film industry last summer. Everybody acts like they like you, and that they’d give anything to spend some quality time with you, but something desperately urgent keeps them from doing so. They have no interest at all in this other thing — but they absolutely can’t get out of it."

"And Jordan’s dad uses that excuse with her?"

"James, as far as I know, she’s asked to see him twice this year. The first time was when we were in L.A. for the volleyball games, and this was the second. Both times he blew her off without a minute’s hesitation. She asked to see him to tell him about me, but he wouldn’t cancel a massage! She hasn’t seen him since summer — and she was 30 minutes from his house, and he couldn’t squeeze her in."

"Brutal," Jamie murmured.

"She seemed to take the whole weekend in stride, but since then, she’s been more and more depressed. It hurts her so much, James, but it’s like she can’t express how she feels about it. Talking about her father in anything less than a positive light is strictly forbidden!"

"Damn, that must be hard for her," Jamie said, shaking her head. "But what does this have to do with telling your parents?"

"I want to show her how proud I am to love her," Mia said, her eyes filling with tears once again. "Her own parents don’t give a crap about her, but I love her, James. I love her with all my heart."

"Oh, Mia," the blonde said, hugging her tight. "I know you love her, but are you ready to do this? I hate to see you rush into it only to make Jordan feel better."

The curly-haired woman sat up and shrugged. "When will I ever be ready? My parents will go ballistic for a while, then things will calm down. What’s more important to me is that Jordan knows how much I love her, and that I’ll always be proud of our love."

"I’m proud of you," Jamie said, giving her another hug. "I know you’re worried about this, and I’ll support you in any way that I can."

"I know you will," Mia said, smiling wanly. "But I don’t think there’s much you can do other than pray that my mother doesn’t strangle me with her bare hands."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Two long-legged women sat at opposite ends of a smallish couch, their legs entangled. "Do you want me to stay over, sweetie?" Sara stretched a little, looking at her watch. "I have to get up by 5:30 to get to work on time if I stay, so if I do, we’d better get to bed."

"Yeah, I want you to stay." Ally disengaged from their loose embrace and pulled Sara to her chest.

They kissed gently for a few minutes, then Sara started to put a little more enthusiasm into her kisses. "Mmm … I’ve never been with anyone who can turn me on so quickly. I’m tingling all over."

"Let’s go to bed," Ally said. "I missed you last night. I really love sleeping with you."

"I do, too, Ally. I sleep so much better when we’re together."

Ally pulled back and stroked Sara’s face, her own expression gentling. "I know, but it doesn’t make sense to get together when I work until 8."

"Oh, I’m not complaining. I don’t want to monopolize all of your time. Being apart a little makes it more special when we are together. To be honest, I like missing you a little bit."

Ally stood and pulled Sara up with her. "You go get ready for bed. I’ll put the dishes away. Be with you in a few."

Giving her a friendly pat on the butt, Sara went into the bedroom to put on one of the T-shirts she’d laid claim to. Even though they’d been sleeping together at least 3 nights a week, they hadn’t progressed much in their intimacies. Sara didn’t have a problem in the world with that, but she could tell that Ally was bothered by it.

When the taller woman walked into the bedroom, she flopped down on the bed, fully clothed, and linked her hands behind her head. "I uhm … I’ve been talking to my shrink about … you know …" she began awkwardly.

"Uh-huh?"

"We’ve been talking about the small steps we can take to make me more comfortable, but … damn, Sara … it sounds like this could take months and months. And she still says that the odds of me ever truly changing are pretty slim. She says I’m probably hard-wired this way." She draped an arm over her eyes and lay perfectly still for a few moments. "I don’t know if we’ll ever get to where we want to go."

"Don’t sound so sad, sweetie," Sara urged, lying next to her. "I’m very happy with what we have. I’ve got the best-looking, smartest, strongest girlfriend in the whole Bay area, and she makes me hot, hot, hot. What’s wrong with that?"

"Oh, Sara, it seems hopeless to me. Yes, I enjoy what we do, but when I’m touching myself I have to fantasize about holding you down and controlling you — and that’s exactly what I don’t want to do!"

"I fantasize about that, too," Sara said quietly, turning to look into her partner’s eyes. "I never would have guessed that it would work for me, but it does. I love it when I feel you overpower me. It turns me on more than I could have imagined."

"Arghh!" Ally got up and started to strip. "This is making me crazy. Can we please go to sleep?"

"Sure. Come to bed." Sara held the covers up, and Ally slid in next to her. "Don’t forget all of the progress we’ve made. Please don’t, Ally. Things are good — they’re very good between us. Look at what we have, rather than what we’re still working toward."

"I’ll try," the larger woman sighed, but her words were not encouraging. She sounded resigned and depressed, and it saddened Sara to see how much her lover was struggling.

"We’ll get there, baby. You promised that you trusted me, remember?"

"Yeah. I just never promised that I trusted me." Ally turned her back, letting Sara cuddle up to her, a feeling of unease settling over the darkened room.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, with Sara trying to decide whether she should try to draw her lover out. The issue was obviously weighing on Ally’s mind as well, since she kept sighing heavily, occasionally giving her pillow a rough punch.

"Sweetheart," Sara whispered, "don’t shut me out." She tugged on Ally’s hip, trying to turn the larger woman over. The sandy haired woman was obviously not in the mood to be coerced, because Sara was unable to move her an inch. "Come on, baby. Talk to me."

"There’s nothing to talk about," Ally grumbled.

"Sure there is." Since she couldn’t move her, Sara got out of bed and went over to crouch down next to her lover. "Tell me some of the small steps your therapist suggested."

"I don’t wanna." Now Ally turned over on her other side, once again facing away from Sara.

Not to be deterred, the brunette walked around the bed once again, and slipped in between the covers. "Look, I know how hard this is for you, but you seem to be fixated on hitting a home run. That’s not how it has to be." She moved closer, until she had her arm tucked tight around Ally’s waist, stopping her from turning away again.

"Go on," the larger woman said. "I know there’s more."

"I think we’ve been doing fine," Sara assured her. "I feel satisfied and cared for and I’m very, very happy. But, I can tell that you’re very frustrated. Now, tell me exactly what’s bothering you."

Letting out a deep breath, Ally looked into her partner’s eyes and said, "It’s my lack of progress. We haven’t done one more thing since the night we started touching ourselves. I don’t want to spend our entire relationship masturbating, Sara! I was doing that with girls when I was 15!"

Giving her a kiss on the forehead, Sara asked, "What did you do when you were 16?"

"Huh?"

"It was a simple question, babe. After you touched yourself in front of another girl, what did you do next?"

"Uhm … I’m not sure …"

"Come on, now," Sara urged. "I know you have a very good memory. Think hard."

Ally did, then smiled briefly, and said, "I remember the first time I touched another girl. I think I was probably 16, or thereabouts."

"Tell me," Sara said, smiling encouragingly.

"Okay." Ally took a breath and began, "I had a huge crush on a girl from my neighborhood. She was a year older, and she had a car. Her name was … Sally, and she gave me a ride home most nights. There was definitely a vibe between us, but I could tell that she was afraid to make the first move. One night, we were at school pretty late, and on the way home, I suggested we stop and watch the sunset."

"Nice," Sara said, grinning. "Good move."

"I thought so," Ally agreed, finally smiling genuinely. "So, we went to this nice, secluded little lake and talked and joked around. She leaned over to get something out of the glove compartment, and when she sat up, she was right next to me. I figured that was my cue, so I started to touch her leg very gently — just running my nails up and down her jeans."

"Mmm … sounds nice."

"Yeah, it was. She started giving me more and more signs that she wanted me to go on, so I started to kiss her." She had a little half-smile on her face, and she said, "She was a heck of a kisser."

"Did you go any further?"

"Yeah, but we didn’t follow the usual script. I tried to touch her breasts, but she pulled away from me, and shook her head. I thought that I’d pushed her too far, but to my shock, she took my hand and put it right between her legs."

"Bold woman," Sara said, chuckling.

"Yeah, she was. I didn’t want to disappoint her, of course, so I got her jeans off and started to investigate. It was the first time I’d ever touched a woman that way, and I swear, my head nearly blew off! My heart was beating so hard, I thought I might have a stroke!"

"Oh, I know the feeling," Sara said.

"It was fantastic," Ally said. "All my years of dreaming of how it would be came true in that moment. She had me pinned to the passenger door, and she was lying in my arms while I touched her. We had the window open, and she rested her head on the open window, while I kissed her and touched her. Damn, it was great," Ally said, a fond smile on her face.

"Did she touch you?"

"Huh-uh. I couldn’t bear it at that point of my life, and she didn’t offer. But, I got so much pleasure out of touching Sally that I didn’t mind a bit."

"It doesn’t sound like you were really in control," Sara commented. "I thought you said you were always in control — even early on."

"Huh … I guess you’re right. Sally was the aggressor, even though I’m the one who did all of the work." She shrugged her shoulders and said, "It felt so nice to touch a woman, that I didn’t care whose idea it was."

"I have an idea," Sara said, her dark eyes growing even darker. "Let’s act like we’re 16 again." She took Ally’s hand and placed it right atop her mound, pressing it against herself gently.

Ally’s eyes grew wide, and she looked like she desperately wanted to run. But Sara’s calm, open gaze kept the larger woman grounded, and she found her head nodding in agreement. "I’ll do my best," she said, her voice trembling.

Sara took her in her arms and started to kiss her once again, working to spark the passion that flickered to life so easily between them. As usual, it didn’t take long before the brunette was thoroughly aroused. "God, what you do to me," she murmured. "I swear I’m wet the first time I look at you. And you make me wetter … and wetter … and wetter … as the night goes on."

Ally gulped noticeably, and Sara tried to make the next move as easy as possible for her. Locking her eyes onto her partner, she slipped off her panties, then started lightly caress her own body. The larger woman was transfixed, unable to even blink as the brunette’s mouth quirked into a very sexy grin. "Your turn," she said, beginning to work at Ally’s zipper. The large body was nearly frozen with fear, but Sara got her pants open and then eased them off of her. Guiding Ally to spread her legs, she nestled her body along Ally’s long frame and started to kiss her again.

Making the kisses as incendiary as she could, Sara continued to kiss and suck on her lover’s tongue and lips until Ally was moaning continually. Turning around before Ally could protest, Sara rested her head upon the broad shoulder and said, "Give me your hand, sweetheart."

The larger woman did so, gasping in amazement when Sara pressed the trembling fingers into her wetness. "Good God," Ally muttered.

"I told you," the brunette sighed, automatically pressing her hips forward. "I’ve never been this aroused by any woman in my life, Ally. You make me sizzle."

Lying perfectly still for a few moments, Ally tried to calm her racing heart, soothed by Sara’s hand gently and patiently stroking her arm. She had been in this position hundreds of times before, and she slowly was able to allow the long-familiar sensations to help quell her fears. Going on autopilot, Ally let her fingers explore, amazed by the heat and the silky softness of her partner’s most private place. "You feel so damned good," she growled into her nearby ear.

"Touch me, baby," Sara murmured. "Touch me everywhere."

Trying to stop her racing thoughts, the larger woman let her body and her libido take over. "Mmm … I want to. I want to so badly." She leaned forward and slipped her fingers deeply into Sara, while giving her a ravenous bite on the tender skin of her neck.

Sara gasped from the twin sensations, her body jerking roughly against Ally’s chest.

Her confidence growing now that she was in control, the larger woman purred, "I’ve got you," as she wrapped her free arm around Sara’s waist. "You move as much as you need to. I can stay with you."

"I feel so safe in your arms." The brunette turned her head as much as she could and kissed the soft cotton T-shirt that covered Ally’s chest.

"God, I love holding you this way." Ally withdrew from Sara’s heated depths and began a gentle, but thorough, exploration of her. Using the softest touch imaginable, she glided over the glistening skin, making Sara moan throatily.

As her whisper soft touch trailed over the tender flesh, Ally slipped her legs under Sara’s, then spread them wide open. Her arm tightened around Sara’s waist, nearly restricting her ability to breathe. Pressing her lips to the back of Sara’s neck, she began to nibble and suck, muttering, "Put your hair over your shoulder, baby. I want to savor every inch of this luscious skin."

Complying immediately, Sara sank back against her powerful lover, flinching again when Ally sucked a little too hard. "Ohh!" she gasped, unable to stifle the startled sound.

"It’s hard to sort out the feelings sometimes, isn’t it? Your brain tells you that bite hurt; but your hips nearly twitched off the bed."

"I don’t care if I can sort out my feelings," Sara murmured. "All I know is that I’ve never felt more alive."

Biting back tears, Ally kissed her partner’s neck and ears, lingering to suck a tender earlobe into her mouth and laving it with love. "Me, too," she whispered when she felt more composed. "I feel so alive when we’re close like this."

Sara’s hips shifted when Ally touched a very sensitive spot, and she gasped, "Hold me tighter, I’m so close."

Surprisingly, Ally wrapped both arms around her, hugging her in a bruising embrace. "Let’s slow down a little," she said, her voice strained, and sounding a little breathless.

With a frustrated sigh, Sara took in a few deep breaths, valiantly trying to control her body’s need to climax. She held Ally’s hands tightly against her body while she fought off the nearly automatic response that the dexterous woman had created in her. "Okay, I’m okay now," she said, stretching to get the kinks out.

"Mmm … watching you struggle to control yourself is so damned hot," Ally growled into her ear. "I’ve got to feel your body more." She reached up and grasped her T-shirt by the shoulders, and tugged at it until it came free. Now clad in a white, ribbed, sleeveless shirt and a pair of red, silk boxers, Ally started to kiss and touch her partner in the most sensual manner Sara had ever experienced. They weren’t even face to face, but that didn’t make the slightest difference to the brunette. She could feel Ally’s hard nipples pressing against her back, and could run her fingers down the tight, firm muscles of her legs, growling in pleasure as she did so.

They rubbed and slid and pressed against each other, the experience made even hotter by not looking into each other’s eyes. It was like a rabidly erotic stranger was loving Sara senseless, and she reveled in the sensation; feeling Ally’s strong hands slip and slither over every inch of her skin. They were practically wrestling on the bed, so great was their desire to feel and touch everything they could reach. Sara repeatedly pulled her lover’s head down to be able to bite and suck at her lips, their haphazard, sloppy kisses driving each of them mad for more.

Wedging Ally against the headboard, Sara grabbed her hand and clutched it between her legs, panting, "Now, baby, you’ve got to touch me. I’m begging you."

Biting and sucking frantically at the irresistibly soft neck, Ally spread her fingers apart and started to gently stroke along Sara’s silky inner lips, being careful not to touch her clit. The brunette was so hot that Ally knew one touch would make her explode, and she was totally unwilling to have this delightful experience end one moment before she had to.

But Sara had other ideas, and after mere moments, she held onto Ally’s hand with a death-grip and forced the larger woman to let her manipulate herself against her until she cried out lustily. "Good God!" she moaned, grabbing Ally’s arms and wrapping them around herself. She cuddled furiously against her lover, rubbing her face and hair into Ally’s powerful chest. "I can’t believe how fabulous that felt," she murmured thickly, feeling like every nerve was on fire.

Waiting one second longer than was absolutely required, Ally flipped her partner onto her belly and started to grind against her — pressing herself firmly against the round globes of Sara’s bare ass. "Oh, yeah," Sara cried, feeling the overwhelming desire that radiated from her lover’s body. She reached back and gripped Ally’s hip, feeling the defined muscles contract through the silky shorts as she rocked her powerful frame against Sara’s body.

Suddenly, Sara’s legs were forcefully spread and Ally was astride one smooth thigh, rocking and pumping for all she was worth. Her body was so forceful and energetic that Sara had to grip onto the headboard to avoid getting a concussion, but she found the sensation even more erotic when she pushed back against the stronger woman. Soon, they were in a rough but effective rhythm; with Sara pushing back strongly as Ally furiously rocked against her leg.

Sara had never been taken so forcefully, and she loved every second of the experience. Hearing the frantic panting burst from Ally’s lungs, she knew the end was near, and bucked back hard against the straining woman. Suddenly, Ally’s hands were digging into her shoulders as she pumped against her leg with every bit of her strength. With a great burst of air, she howled out her release, then collapsed heavily against her partner, forcing the air from Sara’s lungs.

Immediately, Ally slid from the smaller woman’s body, always aware of her greater size and weight. "Fuck me!" she panted, wiping at the sweat that ran down her face.

Sara sat up, leaning against one arm as she took the edge of the sheet and blotted the perspiration from her lover’s body. Pulling up the hem of her shirt, she slipped the cloth up between the larger woman’s breasts, then down her belly. Gazing at the dark stains on the once bright boxers, Sara shook her head as she plucked at the material and said, "I don’t think there’s a thing I can do for these."

"Small price to pay," Ally murmured, grinning up at her. She took a quick look at the garment and said, "As long as they’re already ruined …"

"C’mere, you wild woman," Sara growled, pulling her partner to her chest. "I’ll give you two minutes to catch your breath, then I need those fabulous fingers again. I didn’t have an ounce of self-control before, but I promise I’ll hold out longer if you’ll give me another chance."

Ally pulled her close and kissed her soundly, easing back to give her partner a luminous grin. "Now, that felt like sex."

"That was sex, sweetheart, but so was every other thing we’ve done together." She kissed her again, lingering on her swollen lips. "It’s all sex, baby. just different kinds of sex. Over time, we’ll have every kind of sex there is … I promise you that."

Running her hand through the sweat-dampened chestnut hair, Ally looked down at her partner and said, "I never, ever thought that a yuppie lawyer would be the one for me, but you … are … it."

"Then come down here and tag me again," the brunette giggled, pulling her partner in for a hungry, rough kiss.

* * * * * * * * * * *