Car Pool (10 page)

“Yeah, that could happen, and who’s got the money to sue? And I don’t know anybody who can afford to be out of work. Makes it hard.”

I could afford it, Anthea almost said. Her parents’ life and mortgage insurance had made their house all Anthea’s, free of monthly payments, and left her with no financial worries at all. The sudden change in her financial status after her parents’ deaths had added to her confused feelings about them. When it came right down to it, she really didn’t have to work at all. They had made her childhood and adolescence pure hell. They had also given her freedom from material worries. She wanted a cigarette.

Shay delivered the pizza, chopped it into slices, dished two out onto their plates and asked if they’d like anything more. The entire process made Anthea feel very awkward. She watched Shay move on to the next table to take an order, and overheard her telling them, when they asked what she usually had, that she couldn’t stand the sight of pizza anymore. Shay had a nice laugh.

She let Paula chatter on about politics and rallies she’d been to. The pizza was good, just how she liked it — not too much sauce and lots of cheese. When Shay brought the bill, Paula seized it, saying she was paying. Again, Shay gave Anthea a wink, and again, Anthea blushed. It was plain what Shay thought was going on. Anthea had no idea what was happening. She’d been in shock since they’d sat down. It was just as well Paula was paying because then it was Paula’s money that covered the tip. Anthea would have felt very strange if she’d been tipping Shay. The whole situation was awkward.

They wandered slowly down Shattuck to the car. As they dodged roving bands of college students and an assortment of street people, it became easier to walk close together. Paula put her arm around Anthea’s waist as they ran for a light. When they reached Anthea’s car, Paula mentioned having to catch a bus. Anthea then felt compelled, since Paula had paid for her dinner, to offer Paula a ride home. It wasn’t until they were actually in the car that she realized she had probably offered more than that.

“Why don’t we drive up behind the Claremont? It’s so bleak with most of the trees gone, but the

view of the city should be terrific tonight,” Paula said. “There’s no moon and no fog.”

“Sounds nice.” She didn’t mention that they would only be a few blocks from her house. She was relieved to have gained some time. Paula was very attractive. In fact, Anthea was not at all adverse to sex — she didn’t owe anybody but herself explanations. Still, Paula was treating her a little bit like a slot machine. When she’d still been dating men in college, she had hated their pat assumption that if they bought dinner they got sex. But Paula had been wonderfully frank about it and maybe that made the difference.

She had the car all the way down into low gear when they finally crested a hill far above the Claremont district. A vista area had been cleared between the road and the cliffside and a dozen cars were already stopped, all facing out over the panorama of the entire Bay Area. At one end someone was taking pictures, but everyone else was in their cars, hidden from view by the darkness. A sharp wind whistled around the car when Anthea turned the engine off.

“Absolutely incredible,” she heard Paula breathe. “You can see the Transamerica Tower outline.”

“Do you think that’s Candlestick Park?” Anthea pointed to a bright glow of lights across the dark area of water far to the south.

“No, you couldn’t see it from here. You can see the Oakland Coliseum, though.”

“Where?”

Paula leaned across Anthea, pointing and describing until Anthea said she could see it. Then

Paula turned to look at Anthea, their faces only a few inches apart. All of Anthea’s hesitation faded. She hadn’t felt a jolt of passion like this in ages. Since before Lois’s first affair. Paula must have seen it in her eyes, because she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to Anthea’s.

“Mmm,” she said. “Very nice.” She kissed Anthea again, this time a little harder. Anthea relaxed back into her seat. Somewhere along the way she found her arms around Paula. Paula’s hands swept over her breasts, then her stomach and Anthea arched into Paula’s embrace.

“You don’t hold anything back, do you?” Paula’s hands returned to Anthea’s breasts, recreating the same arching reaction. Anthea suddenly felt as if she were doing this too easily, but it felt so good. “I like it,” Paula said. Her fingers went to the buttons of Anthea’s blouse. Two were open before Anthea found her voice.

“Why don’t we go to my house? It’s not too far.”

“Move the seat back,” Paula said.

“Uh, I’d prefer more privacy,” Anthea managed to say.

“We’ll leave in a minute, but I can’t wait to touch you. Move the seat back.” Paula’s voice was husky. Her lips nuzzled at Anthea’s throat. Anthea found the button and the seat slowly slid backward.

What am I doing, she thought, as she pushed the button to make sure the doors were locked.

Paula straddled her and finished unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers slipped inside and Anthea shuddered, her skin turning to gooseflesh. “Why don’t you put the seat down a little?” Anthea

hesitated. “We aren’t doing anything wrong, you know.”

She found the control and the seat reclined backward until Paula had enough room to bend … Anthea shuddered as Paula opened her blouse completely and kissed the exposed parts of Anthea’s breasts.

Anthea didn’t resist when Paula stripped her of her blouse and bra. Her head was whirling, her legs trembling. She realized Paula’s crotch was grinding down on her own — she arched up to meet it and was delighted to hear Paula moan.

And then she fell back to the seat, and Paula’s lips caressed her shoulders, then lower, across the plane of her chest. She stretched and encouraged Paula to taste her further. No, she wasn’t holding anything back. In a very small part of her mind, she was writing headlines like WOMEN ARRESTED NAKED IN CAR and LESBIANS PLUNGE OVER CLIFF WHILE HAVING SEX. She grappled at the emergency brake — it was set. Then she didn’t care anymore.

Paula’s mouth at her breasts — the fierce and passionate movements of lips and tongue made Anthea long for that same attention between her legs. The thought of it sent pins of desire through her. She put her hand on the seam at Paula’s crotch and heard Paula moan again.

“Should we go back to my place?” Anthea gasped.

“No, no,” Paula said. “Let’s do it here. I’m so hot for you.”

Hot, yes. Anthea knew she was, too. But Paula wasn’t hot for her, just hot. She was not mistaking

this encounter for more than it was. Anthea admitted to herself that she was in the same condition. She wanted to have sex. And like this — well, Lois could go to hell with her accusations that Anthea had been boring. Lois should have tried this. A new surge of passion and a sense of delight filled her. As her hands went to Paula’s shirt, slowly pulling it out of her pants, she felt as if she were slipping out of a cocoon.

“No,” Paula murmured. “You don’t have to do that. Just… put the seat down the whole way. Oh, yes, that’s better.”

Her mouth returned to Anthea’s breasts. Anthea felt hands at her waist, then on her skirt, pulling it up. She raised her hips to make it easier. Paula moved back into the passenger seat, leaned toward Anthea, and slowly peeled Anthea’s pantyhose downward.

Anthea couldn’t wait. She shoved them down, baring herself in a frenzy, then opening her legs, inviting, offering. She felt her heart beating in her fingertips. Every prickle of nerves reverberated through her body and she realized she had never felt so alive before. It had never felt like this, not even her first time with a woman.

She thought, when Paula’s mouth found her, she would faint.

She didn’t.

She made noises she’d forgotten she knew how to make. Invoked deities and the heavens. When she was almost certain she would die of pleasure, she orgasmed.

Paula collapsed back into the passenger seat. “Oh, wow,” she said.

“I’m sorry, I usually don’t, I mean, not like

that “

Paula made a pleased sort of noise and said quietly, “I don’t usually… uh, dive in like that. I… would you do something for me?”

“I could hardly refuse, could I?” Anthea leaned over to Paula, and kissed her, smelling herself on Paula’s face.

“Take me to your place.”

Monday morning Anthea viewed Shay’s bleary eyes with compassion. She had thought Shay was just not a morning person, but now she knew better. Anthea wished there was a way she could help. And, despite Shay’s obvious fatigue, she didn’t miss the wink Shay gave her as she buckled up in the passenger seat. Anthea had spent a great deal of time after Paula had left wondering how she would explain Paula to Shay.

After they had pulled out into traffic, Shay fixed Anthea with an I-know-what-you’ve-been-up-to smiling stare.

“What?” Anthea feigned innocence and ignorance.

“I see. Pretty darned fantastic then.”

“What?”

Shay grinned. “That Porsche I saw you test-driving on Friday night.”

“Porsche? Oh.” Anthea could feel a tiny flush

sprinkle over her cheeks. “We’re talking code. I see. Well, she was more like a Ferrari.”

“Four on the floor and overdrive?”

Anthea swerved to avoid a BMW that pulled out in front of her. “There were only two. On the floor. And plenty of overdrive.”

“That’s sickening,” Shay said. “I’d be envious —” A sudden yawn overtook her. “But I don’t have the energy.”

“What’s your schedule?”

“Whenever I get there until eleven weeknights. One to midnight on Saturdays,” Shay said. Anthea reflected that she was in bed and asleep by eleven.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d be happy to loan you some money.”

“That’s not necessary,” Shay said, her voice tight and clipped.

“Oh, dear.” Anthea bit her lower lip. “I’ve offended you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It’s just — I’ve worked so hard and I guess I’d like to look back and know that I really did do it on my own. I’ve only got another two months of payments to the hospital and funeral home.”

God, Anthea thought. To be working so hard to pay for… death. She felt a surge of mental virtue for having skipped her cigarette this morning. Paula didn’t like cigarettes either and somehow there hadn’t been time for a cigarette until Paula left late on Saturday morning. It was the first time she hadn’t had a smoke after sex. She’d felt so good, she hadn’t really wanted one. Maybe lots of sex was a cure for nicotine addiction. Lots of sex was probably good exercise, too. After a swallow she said, “Is there

some way I can help you and not compromise your ideals?”

“No, really. I’ll survive,” Shay said.

“I know you will,” Anthea said. “Women always do.” Shay smiled slightly. “So you get Sunday off?”

“I think Sundays are a slice of heaven. I have just enough time to go to the grocery store, make up something to take for lunch during the week, laundry, and read for a couple of hours. I sleep a lot on Sundays. Or listen to tapes. I haven’t bought any new music in ages, though.”

“You would be very, very stupid not to let me loan you some tapes.”

“My daddy didn’t raise no stupid girl. I’d love to borrow anything.” Shay smiled and was caught unexpectedly by a yawn that left tears in her eyes. “Jeez, excuse me. I’ll wake up in about two hours. My tapes are getting so worn I can’t listen to them in the Walkman when I go for a run.”

“How do you find energy to go running?” Now Anthea knew where Shay got those rock-hard calves.

“I haven’t lately. I’m getting out of shape for it. I used to run the four-forty in high school. And I was damned good with a javelin considering my height.”

Anthea had a sudden vision of Shay, in running shorts and a tank top, gathering herself for the short run, then leaping, arm extending gracefully, her body arching with the force of her throw. Surprised, she felt a surge of something… feelings she didn’t want to name. Feelings she thought Paula would have drained for quite some time to come. Just remembering how… abandoned she’d been made her tingle.

Anthea turned up the traffic report and only

after it was over did she feel courageous enough to say, “Don’t you think it’s long odds that we are both lesbians and ended up in the same car pool?”

Shay didn’t answer, so Anthea glanced over. She was asleep. Anthea sighed. It had seemed like a big step to actually say the L-word to Shay. Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. Just to be sure that Shay knew she wasn’t bisexual or just curious or desperate or something.

She let her sleep.

Shay managed a mumbled greeting and a muttered remark about the cold wind. Anthea pressed the control to increase the heat in the car, even though she told herself it was absurd to have to. It was June, for heaven’s sake. Ah well.

“Welcome to summer in the Bay Area,” she said aloud. “The tourists are arriving and the fog has come in just for them. Did you have a good night?”

Shay glared at Anthea for a moment, then said

in a low, threatening tone, “Anthea, I’m warning you, perk down or else.”

“I see,” Anthea said. “Not a good night at all.”

“Let’s just say that if I ever see a pizza again, I’ll throw up.”

Shay seemed more human once they were headed south on 880. She dozed for a while, then sat up, seemingly more alert. Anthea said, “You know, considering the way you feel about pizza, I’m surprised you want free pepperoni.”

“I give it to my upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Giordano. The name says it all.”

“What does she do with it?”

“She makes pizza and other delectable concoctions on Sundays. All day Sunday. If you want something to eat, you just drop in. No questions asked, no need to pay her. She must be keeping twenty or thirty old people in the HUD project down the street alive with her Sunday meals.”

Anthea thought about her huge savings account balance. Her paid-for house. Her paid-for car. Mrs. Giordano filling people’s plates all day Sunday. “What a wonderful thing,” she said softly.

“I used to help her, but lately she won’t let me. She says a nice Japanese girl like me doesn’t know how to make pizza anyway. I keep telling her I’m a fourth-generation American, but she just shakes her head. She came to this country about thirty years ago and says she’ll always be Italian and I’ll always be Japanese and that is what being an American means.” Shay laughed fondly. “Sometimes she mixes the leftover pizza sauce into spaghetti sauce and we have it over noodles I make. She says Japanese girls make good noodles because we invented them.” Shay