Lee:I’m better at sex than friendship.
Marie:Luckily, I want both.
Lee:Thinking. Be patient.
Having a conversation about sex in the real world after she’d been reading a sexy manuscript added a weird association to the book, one she hoped never to admit to anyone. Greta sighed at the thought. Her author, Ms. Carpenter, already seemed about as approachable as day-old warm fish at the market.
Maybe Ian will be able to charm her on Monday.Greta sighed.I certainly can’t.
Greta’s job was an odd mix of personal and removed. She loved what she did, but there was a definite awkwardness to writing notes to a stranger about their detailed sex scenes or about the emotional breakdown of fictional characters. Finding the line between helpful and harsh took practice.
No more readingthatbook in bed, though.
She couldn’t associate an author’s book with her own intimate life. She’d only been editing in bed because she worked there at home sometimes—although she knew it was a terrible habit. Last night, though, getting sexts from Lee made her associate that bed, that moment, that manuscript she’d set aside with a memory of the video clip from Lee.
I will only work on that book at the office,Greta resolved.
Keeping her work and home separate would certainly make her current prowl through the apartment easier. For a moment, Greta was grateful that she didn’t have to tell Lee what she did for a living. Greta was proud of her career, but she thought back to when Tasha would introduce her and how she laughed off Greta’s work.
What would Tash think if she saw the book I am editing now?
Admittedly, Tasha had her own baggage about sex, and after a lot of thinking, some therapy, and a not insignificant number of nights with strangers, Greta realized that part of the reason they fell apart was their attitudes toward sex. Tasha still had some shame attached to being a lesbian. The result was that she could only have sex ifGretaasked for it. Half the time, it also felt like Tasha couldn’t get off unless she had a drink or three. The rest of the time, there was a lot of cajoling involved. Even their post-breakup hookups had only happened after drinking.
Maybe I have a type. Beautiful women with complicated boundaries.
Greta wanted Lee to benother type. Her baggage was already visible. Control issues of varying degrees warred with any kind of letting go. That ought to be a red flag, but if it was, Greta’s libido had decided to be a bull and charge right at it.
“I’m not looking for someone to fix,” Greta announced to her empty living room as she scanned every surface for hints of where she worked.
A flickering memory rose up of a drunk bar connection and a woman who was embarrassingly interested once she heard Gretawas in publishing. That was one of the few times she’d ever lied outright about her job. She claimed to be a courier for editors. Even that wasn’t enough to dissuade the aspiring writer—who honestly could have been a fabulously talented writer, but Greta had worked too hard to build a reputation. She wasn’t going to ruin it by fucking someone who wanted to sell her a book.
After one last walk-through to verify that any incriminating evidence was tucked away, Greta was sure her apartment was tidy enough and all identifying things were hidden. It was time to shower and dress.
What do I wear for a not-date with a woman I want to fuck?
She weighed the options while she showered and shaved everywhere that needed tidying. She wasn’t a jeans person. They were fine, but she’d yet to find a pair that didn’t make her curves look overly emphasized. Short with great legs turned into something that made her looktooinviting when she dressed that casually, at least that’s what Tasha had always said.
And despite two years apart, I still think about her criticisms… Even though I know she still wants me, she didn’t want tostaywith me.
Greta made a mental note to buy jeans that made her feel confident and work on wearing them in public.
I apparently have more body positivity issues when I’m dressed than when I’m naked!
Then, she pulled out a simple wrap dress. Dark blue with tiny little sprigs of flowers, it highlighted her trim waist, and the top dived deep between her breasts, and when she walked, flashes of leg were evident. This wasn’t a dress she’d ever wear to work because she felt like a bit of a sexpot in it, but it was perfect for meeting Lee.
She slipped on one of her various pairs of tall black boots and added a black leather jacket she only wore outside of work. Idly she wondered if Kaelee rode a motorcycle. She certainly had the attitude for it.
Back before Tasha, when Greta was in college, she had briefly dated a woman with a motorcycle and a basketball scholarship. Herex was dedicated and genuinely good at her sport, but Greta was not the right match. On the other hand, the payoff for going to all the home games, though, was that her ex was the kind of strong that made Greta’s knees weak and her panties drop. She’d realized that athletes might not have been her match, but strong women were.
Women like Lee.
Greta kept her thoughts as mild as she could as she made her way to Penn Station. She wasn’t looking to date, but… maybe soon. Maybe it was time to start reconsidering the options. Something about meeting Lee had opened up a crack in Greta’s heart and let the fear out. Greta had known logically that she couldn’t judge all women by Tasha and her hang-ups. Unlike Tash, Greta’s sports-loving ex had definitely been looking for forever, even back then.
Lee isn’t, though. And she’s the one I want right now.
Seeing Lee a second time might’ve stirred up thoughts of a future, but notwithher. Lee was crystal clear on that front, and Greta was going to respect that boundary. Maybe they could end up friends with the occasional night together. That wasn’t a relationship. Right?
Her phone buzzed as she walked to the meeting place they’d set earlier.
