Stripped Down Read Online Free PDF Page B

kiss, before giving me the “try to have fun” look. After a few more rushed comments and reminders, they were gone.
    And then it was just me and Vicki. She still hadn’t moved away from the bedroom doorway and from my position on the sofa, I was giving her an uneasy look. Why am I here?
    â€œDid you bring the beer?” she asked.
    â€œUh, yeah.” I had completely forgotten the six-pack at my feet. “You want it in the fridge?”
    â€œI’ll do it.” She picked up the beer and headed for the kitchen. “Lani made all this snack shit, you hungry?”
    â€œWhat you got?” I asked, as I tried to calm myself.
    â€œCome look, fool, this ain’t no restaurant.”
    Dammit. Reluctantly, I got to my feet and went into their kitchen. It was entirely too small, barely room enough for the stove, fridge, and sink, let alone the meager cabinet space and their tinyass table. On the table was a spread of rolls, sandwich meats, chips, and potato salad. Vicki was making herself
a sandwich, and for a moment I forgot myself and just watched her. Vicki was your stereotypical Californian: body conscious and into just about any kind of physical fitness you could imagine. Dressed in a tank and jeans, you could see how toned she was as she simply fixed herself some food, her muscles moving beneath the skin of her arms in a rhythm that made me bite my lip.
    â€œYou gonna just stand there or make something?”
    My eyes rose. “Huh? Oh, yeah…sandwich.”
    She gave me a questioning look before finishing up and squeezed by me on her way out. As soon as I was alone, I started mentally kicking my own ass. Why was I here? Why hadn’t I just told Sonja that this wasn’t a good idea? Well, because then she’d want to know why. And there was no explanation I could give that she’d be satisfied with, short of my claiming to be sick—which wouldn’t fly since Sonja was a nurse. And, of course, telling her the truth would be suicide, so I had no choice but to come.
    As I made a couple of sandwiches, I kept telling myself I’d have to be cool. But that was pointless, because deep in my gut I knew what was going to happen…and I still wasn’t sure if I wanted it to happen or not. Butches didn’t do shit like this. At least not any butch that I knew. But despite feeling like I couldn’t do it, I also couldn’t ignore what had been happening. The lingering looks, the nervousness in each other’s presence, the accidental touches that always ignited sparks…and that fucking kissing episode.
    Yes, yes, yes, you heard right. I couldn’t replay it exactly; all I remembered was Vicki and I meeting before having to hook up with the girls for a late dinner, sharing some beer and before I knew it we were kissing. Never in my life had I
even looked at another butch in a sexual way, but from the first moment I saw Vicki…something was there. Her look, the way she carried herself, damn even the fact that she shaved her head completely bald. And if that alone didn’t freak me out, the revelation of her attraction to me sure did. But for the couple months we were around each other, despite the situation, we were able to deal.
    â€œThere’s no game on, wanna watch a movie?” Vicki called from the other room.
    â€œDepends on the movie,” I answered as I finished up. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked back into the living room. It was also small, so there was only the sofa to sit on. Vicki was on one end and I took the other, setting my bottle and plate on the coffee table before me. Vicki was flipping through TV channels, and of course there was nothing we found interesting. She started listing all the DVDs they had, but nothing caught my interest.
    I occasionally glanced at Vicki, wondering if she was thinking what I was thinking. I knew all the searching for movies and the small talk was just a way to ease the tension.