lesbian storytelling

London Leaves / Epilogue

The crowd had scattered away
The crowd had scattered away

Novella in several parts (epilogue)

Epilogue

The heavy rain was pouring down massively, as the paramedics made their way between the small crowd, and bent down towards the woman lying there. She was frozen. They could not establish if she was still breathing. They checked her pulse. After a few moments, an unclear beat was pounding vaguely, but they were not sure she could make it. They gazed at each other, wondering: should they try to warm her with some blankets, or with a warm IV[1]?

The crowd had scattered away. People don’t have too much patience these days for others, nor to be in one place to a large extent. Why would they care about a stranger? She was not related to them.

One of the paramedics put her ear close to the anonymous mouth, as no vapours were shown in the freezing air. Nothing. She was to rise and stand up, as she saw the woman’s lips moving. She bent again. “What, love?” she tried hard to hear.

“Ja…z…m…in”, said the stranger with her last breath, whispering. “I…s…ra…e…l…”

[1] Shorten for intravenous

London Leaves / C – We (Us) 4

For ever and more
For ever and more

Novella in several parts (last part is due the coming week)

C

We (Us)

4

At Last

They were standing on the hill overlooking the sea, the magic rustle of the wavelets beneath, float jointly with holy words the Rabba chanted, accompanied by the gathering of people: family members, friends. Two women stood under the silky purple Chupa,[1] getting together for life, for better and best, for health and wealth. A tender breeze glided softly, caressing the excited faces. At last, they came to express their love officially, publicly.

At last. Etta James promised that the lonely days were gone, as she found the dream she could call her own. “At last”, Sara’le sang the words she knew by heart, as she was praying those most of her adult life.

“Mazel Tov[2], Mazel Tov!” People burst in blessing the newly wedded warmly, as the Rabba finished the ceremony with hope the couple will live happily ever after.

Jazmin took Sara’le in her arms and hugged her, holding her tightly, pressing her to her heart. “My wife”, she whispered into her beloved one’s ears, “my woman, for ever and ever.”

“For ever and more”, corrected Sara’le, “and not even one day before.”

[1] Hebrew: canopy (used at Jewish weddings)

[2] Hebrew: Good luck!

London Leaves / C – We (Us) 3

Autumn in London
Autumn in London

 

Novella in several parts (I’ll post the rest in the coming weeks)

C

We (Us)

3

Oh Yes…

 

“I can’t stop loving you, can’t stop…” Jazmin was lying on top of her, murmuring out of exhaustion. “Oh, my love, thank you for coming into my life.”

Sara’le caressed her white curled Kepale[1] gently, pouring her loving emotions into this gesture. Her body was so relaxed, her mind so peaceful. Who would imagine that I would find my soul mate at this period of my life? Certainly not me, even if I wished so. So many years of looking, searching, yearning, longing… So many years… a waste of a lifetime… and now, suddenly, she is here, in my bed, in my arms. So nice to hold her. Her skin so smooth, silky, tender… My woman.

OMG!!! I’ve never felt this way before! So deep, so intense! Jazmin gazed at her lovingly. This is my woman, she said to herself mutely. A surge of pride filled her at the sight of her lush beloved. My woman… Sooooooo sexy!

Three months have passed since that horrible day. She was so devoted, sat patiently at my bed in the hospital, day after day, from morning to night, fed me, bathed me, talked to me, making me laugh, trying to lift my spirits, being there for me, being my guardian angel. My sweet woman.

What is she thinking about? She seems to immerge into a deep world of her own. I hope she’ll let me in, as she allowed me to be with her. Lovely Jazmin…

My ticket is due for another month, and then – I don’t know if she will have me. She was very kind to host me when I checked out of the hospital. I could change the date and go back then, but she took me under her wings and didn’t want to hear anything about me going back. I love this woman, I fell in love with her from the moment I laid eyes on her there, at the JGLG, when she came and introduced herself to me. I love this woman…

[1] Yiddish: head

London Leaves / C – We (Us) 2

Calm round moon
Calm round moon

 

Novella in several parts (I’ll post the rest in the coming weeks)

C

We (Us)

2

Or Not…

 

The annoying ringing of the phone awoke her from the nap she was taking after her treatment. She woke up that morning, the gloomy weather causing her pain in her bones. Coming from a warm welcoming country, she hated this damp climate, the cold, chilly, wintry, apathetic people, the illnesses this reserved bloody kingdom caused her.

Slowly, she dragged her bare feet on the warm wooden floor. Oh, my G-d! my hair is a mess! She lamented when she saw her image in the mirror in the entrance hall, lifting quickly her hand to sort it out a bit. “Nu, sha! Sha!” She protested, “I’m coming! I’M COMING!!!” I wish, she murmured to the walls, I really wish.

“Lady Sarah?” A formal voice enquired.

Uh? This doesn’t sound good. “Speaking.” Not so fluently, as I’m not quite awake yet, but I am able to emit some syllables, also comprehend, if it’s not to heavy an issue… This sounds heavy, though.

“Do you know a person by the name of Jazmin?”

The thunder exploded all over, causing the windows to shudder, this was nothing compared to the tremor which grasped her tightly. The phone fell from her quivering hand. Jazmin?

“Y… ye-s…” The surprised syllables barely left her mouth. She remembered how Jazmin came to her later that evening, asking her when she will have the time to show her around the city, her eyes beseeching her. Her busy schedule couldn’t allow her to respond immediately, so she asked Jazmin to call her. As the call didn’t come, she assumed the Pishwoman did it, so her services were no longer required.

“This is the emergency of St. George’s Hospital, we’ve found your business card in her handbag. How do you know this person?”

HOSPITAL??? “W… wh… wh-at?”

“Are you a relative?”

She forced herself to be businesslike, practical: “Well, I’m not a relative, but I’m not quite sure she has relatives in London. As far as I know, she was staying with a friend.”

“Do you know that friend’s name or her number, perhaps?”

Do I know? The Pishwoman… that’s all I know, but I can’t tell him that… “What happened? Is she all right?” nu, well, apparently not, if they are calling from the hospital…

“She was brought here a couple of hours ago. Can you come to here? I think it would be helpful if you came over.”

A couple of hours ago? What was I doing then? OMG-OMG-OMG! She is in the hospital! OMG! Oh, no! STOP-STOP-STOP! I must stop wandering around, wringing my hands and cracking my knuckles. I must focus. Where did he say the hospital is? She studied the note, where she wrote down the details he gave her. It’s in London, a bit of a schlep[1], but never mind. I hope she is not too bad.

 

Dark… Soooooooo dark… Where am I? She could hear weak noises, as if they where coming from very far. Someone or something was moving near her, a silhouette, very blurry, she couldn’t figure out what it was, but somehow it brought her some comfort. She sunk again into her darkness.

 

I think I saw her eyes blink. Should I call a nurse? I’m not sure what I should do. I’m sitting here since noon. I should go home soon. Need to eat, not mentioning also to rest. At least I got Jane to feed the cats. She seems so calm in her deep sleep. I hope she will be better in the morning. She probably needs rest. Who knows what happened to her? They said she was found lying on the pavement. Nobody could say for how long, but apparently, it was long enough to be frozen. November, it’s freezing outside. Poor Jazmin… It’s weird she had my card. What about the Pishwoman? Should I bother to look for her? Maybe at the JGLG somebody would have her number. Or not…

[1]  Yiddish: a drag

London Leaves / C – We (Us) 1

Garden of flowers
Garden of flowers

Novella in several parts (I’ll post the rest in the coming weeks)

C

We (Us)

1

“Ma…”

Heavy pouring rain. She wandered through the streets of London like a wet lonely cat, schlepping her belongings with the last ounce of energy left in her. Her clothes were all soaked. Her shocked, gloomy face, was struggling hard to restrain her agony from bursting into a long wounded howl. She stopped, unable to move further. Her legs couldn’t endure the weight of what she was carrying anymore – both herself, loaded with suppressed emotions, and her stuff, hanging from all over her. Her arms were burning out of pain, craving for rest. Submitting to despair, she didn’t care to park her wet bottom on the freezing low stone fence. The rain was flowing silently, cutting through the thick deep smog.

Not letting out the meowing she felt inside, was very hard. She wanted to curl up into a warm lap, but not the one she left half an hour ago, and stay there forever. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do… Her bewildered mind was tormented. What should I do? What should I do? A few pupils passed her, hurrying to get to school on time. Cars went by, their motors roaring, leaving a trail of smoke. She detained her breath, trying to impede pollution from harming her. Nu, what should I do?

A deafening thunder pierced her spine, causing her whole body to shiver. The street was now empty. Nobody sane would stick their nose out of their warm, cozy home. Oh, home… I miss home sooooooo much! What possessed me to leave home and come to this insane horrible sick woman? What did she think, that somebody could actually fall for her? Nu, well, I suppose there could be someone who would seek this sick kind of relationship. I don’t think they are capable of loving, really loving. They are occupied with causing each other pain and misery, how could they feel love for each other? This is not the love I need. I want rapport, affinity, bonding. I need to feel wrapped with love by the woman I will love back with all of my heart, to melt to her touch, to…

Another earsplitting thunder extracted her from her thoughts. The rain was pouring cats and dogs. A black cab stopped near her. The taxi driver rolled the window down a bit, not daring to stick his head out. “Hey, love”, he yelled in a loud voice, “are you all right?”

She blinked surprisingly. Am I all right? Yeah, right – sitting on this freezing stone, my butt could be served as an ice-cream, I’m soggy duch and duch,[1] deep into my bone marrow, I don’t know what to do, as I mindlessly collected my unpacked luggage to rush away her, I’m even quite sure where I am. I know I headed to the train station she showed me once, but didn’t get there. I don’t think I ever was in this neighbourhood before. I’m not such a good navigator, to say the least…

“Well, lady, where do you need to go?”

Where do I need to go? Home, I guess. But home is so far away, 8,047 kilometres, or 5000 miles, as they measure here, how can I get there? I have no English money. A mazel[2] I have some in shekels. I suppose I would be able to exchange in a bank. Although I could, I had no intention to take the notes she scattered around her house, in prominent places. I guess I’m not the first to run away from her, so she was “generous” to assist… Nu, well, a woman with so many lovers behind her, having their bleeding scalps hanging from her belt, probably should predict future events. No, I didn’t take her money. I hope she suffocates with on it. Damn P.

Without thinking, she opened the back door of the cab, throwing in her plastic bags. The driver didn’t move an inch to assist her. Probably it wasn’t in his job description. He just moved the handle of the trunk, so she could put in her trolley and the other four over packed bags. Feeling relieved, she closed the trunk’s door, glancing around, hoping the rain will stop already. She was heading to the passenger’s door, thinking she could use a brake of these showers pouring on her, as the driver quickly slammed the back door and fled with his brakes squealing.

“Ma…”[3] The word didn’t even pass her lips. She remained standing there, unable to move her gaze affixed to the spot where the cab disappeared.

[1] Yiddish: Thru and through

[2] Yiddish: I’m luckily

[3] Hebrew: “What…”

London Leaves / A – Sarah’le

Calm waves at the seashore
Calm waves at the seashore

Novella in several parts (I’ll post the rest in the coming weeks)

A

Sarah’le

 

The Rabba chanted the holy words, accompanied by the rest of the JGLG[1] members attending the ceremony of Kabalat Shabbat[2]. I love to be here, among friends. It’s better than being alone with my four walls. Two years passed since I told her I can’t cope anymore with her insane bloody attitude to life, to people, to herself and especially to me. Enough is enough, I told myself. I love you, I told her, but this is not how I imagined my life with my spouse. I want more. I need to be loved, to feel I am loved, and of course also to love back, to let out all these feelings that I have in me to give to the right woman. I love you, but I don’t think you are the right woman for me. No, you are not for me.

She was surprised at my rebellion, as I always was so obedient and never before had the courage to express my feelings. I couldn’t do that. I don’t know why I was scared to tell her off before, but I guess that there comes a time when enough is enough. ENOUGH IS really ENOUGH. Before she had the chance to respond, I collected myself and left her behind me. I thought I did…

She was standing there, across the room, leaning against the wall, looking somewhat lost. My heart started humming. Strange. My heart goes out for a stranger I have never met before. Without being able to think about it, my legs moved forward and I found myself standing in front of her, sending a claiming smile to the woman of my dreams. “My love”, I wanted to say, “come, let me take you with me to the Garden of Eden, let me wrap you with my love, let me…” However, I didn’t say any of this, just a polite hello came through my craving lips.

She beamed, her grin inviting. “Hi”, she answered, her calm voice reminding me of fallen leaves in a warm autumn, somewhere far away from here. Hidden yearnings started bubbling deep down, in places I thought I would never feel again. Not since Estelle… Oy vey, that woman doesn’t leave me in peace! She haunts me and still has a hold on me. I can’t be free of her, as if she had imposed a dark spell on me. When will I be free?

The lovely woman in front of me gazed at me. “I hope that you were in a good place, even if here is also nice”, she said playfully, flashing another smile.

“Oh, yes, oh, so sorry”, I hurried to apologize. “I didn’t mean to…” What didn’t I mean? I don’t know. She made my head spin, causing me dizziness. The background noises faded away, as I was caught in her mesmerized flaming gaze. I’m sure the Rabba and the others continue to praise the Lord for creating Shabbat for us to rest and enjoy, but I was praising my guardian angel for creating this lovely woman I was sure they did it especially for me.

“It’s OK, no need to apologize.” Her accent was not local. Polish perhaps? Czech? Is she from one of the former USSR’s countries?

“I’m Sarah”, I introduced myself.

“Jazmin”, she answered curtly. Not a woman of many words, I guess.

“I hope that you won’t find it rude, but your accent seems to me to be east European. May I ask where are you from?”

She straightened her compact limbs and answered: “I’m from Israel, the Jews’ homeland.”

“Oh, how nice!” Oh, an Israeli… how nice… Her accent is not typical Israeli though. I’ve met a few before, but was never involved with any of them. None captured my heart. Now this nice woman… I wonder how long she is here for. She wasn’t here last time. “Did you see the city already?”

“No, I haven’t managed to do that, as I just came here last Sunday.”

“Oh, I see. Would you like to get together and have a coffee someday?” Yes-yes-yes!!! Please, say yes!

Her smile, like the rainbow after a downpour, showed in her lovely blue eyes. “Yes, I would love to, very much.”

She said yes!!! An unrestrained urge drove me to take her in my arms and burst into a stormy Hora dance[3]. Well, I’m Aussie (not to mention Jewish…), so I don’t suffer from the dry restrained self-control the English are known for. My ancestors poured into my veins a need to be gay even in darkest times. I have been in a dark time since I left Estelle, as she didn’t leave me be and I was foolish enough to be persuaded by her seducing alluring words that she poured into my ears over the phone, when she felt alone and needed someone to abuse, and I was handy. Last time, was only a month ago. I went to her place again, yet again hoping we would reconcile, settle things and live happily ever after. The minute I walked through her door and lay my eyes on her, I knew I made a fatal mistake, as usual. Am I dumb? Am I so pathetic? Why do I allow this? She had a long face, as her grave sourpuss gaze faced me acrimoniously. I was familiar with this expression, which portended her forecoming behavior. It was foredooming we weren’t going to have peace. Again, she was going to enjoy herself in her twisted way and I was going to go through hell. Why didn’t I turn around and leave on the spot? I really don’t know. Maybe because I am optimistic in my nature, I always hope for the best, never consider the opposite. Or maybe I am just dumb. I’d rather think about myself as innocent. At the age of 56 plus a few months, I’m still naïve, childlike even. I was hoping her sour appearance would evaporate in a few minutes and we will talk things over and live happily ever after. It didn’t happen.

I was about to reach for the woman of my dreams, when a tall, pale, ugly-looking woman, appeared from nowhere, clinched to Jazmin, then wrapped her gaunt skinny arms around her, as if declaring her ownership. What an ugly woman! This is the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I’ve seen quite a lot. Too many, as far as I’m concerned. Her tiny eyes, submerged in her faded face, they examined me inquisitively, absorbing my organs one by one. I was sure she X-rayed every bone in my body with her piercing gaze.

Still measuring me, without turning her head, she asked demandingly: “Hey, who are you talking to?” She widened her lips to what appeared to be a smile. My mother used to call this gesture “zuzing mit di tzain[4]“. One could feel her effort to maintain calm.

“This is Sarah,” answered the love of my life, wriggling away from the witch of London. “Sarah, this is P.”

P? What kind of name is P? Why P? Paula Abdul she is not – of this, I am pretty sure. As opposed to the talented singer, she has a harsh, raucous, unpleasant tone of voice, I doubt if she can carry a note. I cleaned my ears very thoroughly before I came here and I will have to do it again when I come home. Her obnoxious, annoying, grating, irksome voice stained their purity. Not to mention her eyes, those two acrimonious blades, going over my whole body, tainting it.

“Hello”, I said politely. “P stands for…” Not for princess as well, as she was wearing these tattered, worn-out ragged schmates[5] called “sport-elegant couture”.

“Her parents called her Paula, but nobody calls her that. She is P.” Jazmin volunteered the explanation, as the woman in question didn’t bother to answer.

Nu, P for pish, I couldn’t resist, Pee. Like in wee-wee… The Pishwoman. Witty, wow! I’m so sharp! The thought planted in her mind, as she felt the need to go and relieve herself of the few warming teacups she had during the evening. Secretly, Sarah examined the belittled woman with contempt. The nickname seems to suit her.

The woman didn’t bother to move her hand in order to shake mine, so I kept my hand to myself and didn’t reach her either. I excused myself, sending a quick smile to the one I wanted and went to release my body of its fluids. Alas, the woman of my dreams was already spoken for. My rotten mazel[6] again. But what could I expect? She looks so nice, it is only natural someone grabbed her. I wonder what Jazmin is doing with her. That P person looks horrible, so not suitable to my dear Jazmin. However, what do I know? I also had my fair share of meeting and being with crazy lesbians. Maybe P is what Jazmin needs. Who knows what is in the heart? My cup of tea is not necessarily the same as the others.

[1] Jewish Gay and Lesbian Group

[2]  The ceremony of lighting Sabbath candles

[3] Israeli folk dance

[4] Yiddish: gnashing a smile

[5] Yiddish: rags

[6] Yiddish: luck

My Sunshine

My Sunshine
My Sunshine

 The minute you came into the room, my heart skipped a beat… or two, three, four, five… I did not count. You were exactly the woman I was looking for my entire life. You were exactly what I needed all my life. You were… ‘G-ddess all mighty’, I said to myself, ‘it can’t be true. You’re not real. It is just my eyes deceiving me and she is not truly flesh and blood, this woman is not real’.

I called you Sunshine and it does not matter that it was not your real name, since for me you were like sunshine. Sexy, astonishing, beautiful, and the warmth that beamed from you – was the real thing. I was always telling myself that love at first sight is not for real. I was sure that it can’t be happening in real life. Certainly not to me. But it seems that life is much more real and correct, than we could ever imagine.

I had a bad time. Nobody loved me, I lived by myself and climbed on walls. I dared not dream. I lived in margins, the days passing over me in vain, in emptiness, shirking through my longing fingers.

You “caught” me, the horrible loneliness that surely reflected from every move I made. I could not believe, but it happened. You approached to me and introduced yourself. And your name was not Sunshine, but I kept calling you that, as for me you were a sunbeam, a ray of light, a flame, that spark that lit my life.

I desperately needed motherly warmth. The enormous craving for a caressing soft hand, to calm my fears, was unbearable. I wanted to feel warm lips hover over my yearning forehead. To experience again the delight of innocent childhood…

You were very experienced and did not make any mistakes. You read me immediately with your sensitive senses and knew exactly what I needed. You massaged my aching back with such tenderness, that if I had tears of joy in me, they would surely burst from my eyes.

You made me feel completely comfortable. When you asked me to roll over on my back, I put my soul in your experienced hands. I laid supinely, disassembled into tiny chips, my mind is floating somewhere. Your hands moved lightly, stroking my brow and temples gently, kneading my breasts, sending electric currents into the tiny electrons that were my body, and then… your tongue, so soft, so sweet… and I didn’t know myself. All those flowing atoms that I was, the molecules moving in circles, scattering around the room, began to accelerate, moving toward an unseen centre, ascending, descending, turning around, streaming, combining… and through my short breaths, my confused, turning upside world, soft clouds embroidered, uniting into one sweet molecule…

And afterwards… Afterwards… you cradled me in your arms, putting my head between your soft breasts, your lips humming silently as if to calm a restless baby.

 

You were already married and my hopes had no chance to be fulfilled. For you, I was another flower, like the others, amongst whom you fluttered like a butterfly and scattered over them your nectar and honey. But also your stings. Despite this, I knew I came home. I felt that I found my soul mate whom I was searching for my entire life. During that night, I fantasized how we would live together in health and wealth happily ever after. Those walls, on which I used to climb with frustration, became filled with stars.

But then, morning has broken and you said that you must be off. I could not separate from you. My heart told me that you are not coming back. But what could I do? You were married and your wife was waiting for you at home. I gazed at your back with a pierced, heavy heart, how you deserted me after such a night full of magic and I was hurting all over…

Your hand was already on the doorknob and then… before my blood threatened to burst and drown me in an eddy of pain, you turned towards me, sent your warm gaze, like a sunbeam, and it was filled with love.

 

I’m trying not to think about the woman you deserted and wish her to find new love, a more suitable one. You and I rise every morning, gaze with love into each other’s eyes. What do you see in mine? I don’t know, but you are my sunshine, a beam that lights my life.

Hallucinating words

No Woman Ever

Sweet cheese cake, very sweet!

 

I hoped. Expected. Yearned. Craved for you. I didn’t know what your thoughts were. Do you want me too, as much as I want you? Who can read someone else’s mind? You were a whole world to me. A new world I did not know. I never imagined I would ever know. You were a special woman.

We met in a crowded coffee shop. I was sitting at my regular spot, trying to fill in a blank paper with words for my column. The hustle & bustle around me did not disturb my concentration at all. I was used to it. It was something else. A feeling that something is going to happen in my life had nibbled inside me. Some unexplained craving was in the air. Perhaps because of the thick smoke, or maybe my efforts to seal my ears from the noise, I did not hear you at first. I was staring at my paper, trying to gather my scattered mind. ‘Must concentrate’, I said to myself, ‘otherwise it’s not going to work’.

My throat was dry. I reached for the glass and held the air. I was surprised. A minute ago it was still here. Where did it go? I raised my eyes and there you were standing, holding my glass in your hand, smiling.

“Hello,” you said. I was speechless. My tongue was stuck to my palate and couldn’t move. “Good manners is not your strongest point, ha?” You said kindly, putting your soft hand on my shoulder. A sweet shiver rushed over my body and I hoped that in the darkness you wouldn’t notice my blush.

I forced myself to come to my senses. “That’s not so,” I whispered the best I could, “it’s just that my throat is dry…”

You leaned towards me and brought the glass to my lips. I sipped, trying hard to stabilize my tremble. I didn’t know how to “digest” you. It never happened to me before that a strange woman took my glass and after a minute watered me, her breasts exposed in front of my face, her hand rests calmly on my neck. Did I imagine a stroke? I tried to drink slowly, so it won’t drip on my blouse, to avoid an unpleasant incident.

“Finished?” You asked, your face so close to mine. “Should I get you some more?”

“That’s OK,” I replied, “I’m OK now, thanks.” Some OK… My whole body was running wild. I couldn’t take my eyes off your exposed breasts. “May I help you?” I was trying to collect myself.

“I wanted to know, if it wouldn’t bother you me sitting at your table. It’s quite crowded here. Do you mind?”

Did I mind? How could I not? I have never felt like this when first meeting a woman. Never before, no woman caused me this sensation all over. Secretly, I gazed at you. You sat yourself down calmly on the chair beside me, making yourself comfortable.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” The words filtered through your lovely lips which held the cigarette, while your hands brought the burning match closer. Did I mind? So what? I was in an abstaining period and felt quite disturbed by smokers, but did not wish to drive you away. ‘A smoker’, I said to myself, ‘it’s not healthy’. Again I lowered my eyes to the paper. Is there any hope that I’ll finish the column tonight?

“Don’t pay any attention to me,” you said, your dark eyes burning at me like two fireflies, “I don’t wish to disturb.” I smiled. Maybe you don’t, but you already have. My whole being is running wildly, my heart is pounding in a rough Tam-Tam beat. I am in a trance. All my senses are alert and ready to absorb you. Your perfume surrounds me. My nose cannot be satiated enough… My eyes, instead of clinging to the paper, are constantly moving in your direction and stick to you when you are not looking. My body, as if it has a will of its own, is alert and wants you. My brain is scattered… ‘Calm yourself. Calm down! Otherwise, it won’t work’.

“I’m going to bring more drinks. Would you like some? Maybe a snack?”

I held out a bill of 50. “I would like a sandwich and some orange juice, thank you,” I forced the words out of my mouth. You could not possibly guess my wishes. If only you could read my thoughts… Goddess, it had never happened to me with a woman before!

“Here.” You open my hand gently and put the change in it. Who could imagine me daring to touch a strange woman’s fingers? Your hand lingers in mine and I begin to withdraw, embarrassed. “It is lovely touching a woman’s hand, isn’t it?” You don’t let go. The skin on my arms turns to gooseflesh. You caress the bumps, smiling to yourself. Did you catch me? The chair and me become one entity. A strange fairy touches me and turns my being upside down. My underwear is wet. It is advisable for me to run away and freshen up in the bathroom.

You allow me to flee. You know I’ll come back to you. The mirror reflects my gaze. My face is like a tomato, if I wet them, will it go away? Never… OK, I got it – no woman has ever made me feel like that until now. So, what should I do? Should I consent? Should I go for it? What? The mirror refuses to reply. My mouth curves with a hesitant smile. Would I dare?

“What is with you? Is everything all right?” Your worried eyes are attached to mine. Could you hear my heart beating? My gaze is stuck to your lips. They are so close. So inviting… I wish I could flutter gently on them. Sense them. Sense you… You look at me. The magic spell nails me to my seat. You bring your chair closer to mine. Your knees touch mine. Should I move? No chance. It is not possible. My body is utterly paralyzed.

“What is your name?” You ask, and I answer, as if in a dream: “Me? Or.”

“Nice name,” you say, “want to know mine?”

“Yes,” I barely answer. The hoarseness in my throat hurts.

“I’m Orly. Or and Orly. Nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is…”

“Your lips are so dry,” you observe and bring your tongue closer. My face is held in your hands. My breathing quickens. My lips are trembling, closed with passion on your tongue, unable to let go. That softness… Was it a kiss?

Long ago I forgot the world. So there won’t be a column for tomorrow. The world wouldn’t collapse. Neither will the newspaper.

“I live nearby,” you whisper to me, “would you like to come and see my place?” Of course I would! You could lead me anywhere you like. I’m in your hands. As yours are in mine. I see them holding your hips, caressing, sensing you, unable to depart…

“Please,” you stand beside the door and invite me in. I am inside. Small hesitant steps. My feet are heavy. You close the door and turn to me. Your arms interlace around me. My arms are around you. A hug. My lips are searching for yours. I am in a dream… “Want to take a shower? It’s hot, isn’t it?” You ask.

“OK,” I reply. The water runs calmly. You move your hands on my back, massaging gently. It is pleasant. You turn me towards you. My hands on your breasts, caressing, my palms sense how your nipples harden. Mine too. My hand slides slowly, submerged in you. “More,” you whisper to me and cling closer. My tongue moves on your nipples. It is tasty. And then… the groaning that your body releases… Like a present.

You take me to bed. My body craves for you. I never thought it is possible to feel such passion for a woman. You flow towards me. I flow towards to you. You study my body. I entrust my soul in your hands, moving to the rhythm you dictate.

No woman has ever made me feel like that.

 

Hallucinating words

A Chorus of Female Voices

This piece was first debuted as part of The TMI Project: MHI in Ulster County.  Visit The TMI Project’s website to learn more .


Que Será, Será, is Zelda’s (aka Judith Z. Miller’s) humorous, sobering, hopeful multimedia one-person revelatory performance that chronicles her personal story of the joys and challenges of navigating non-binary Queerness from childhood during the 1950’s to adulthood. Zelda is the recipient of an Arts Mid-Hudson Individual Artist Commission to develop the show to premiere in Kingston, NY at the Hudson Valley LGBTQ Community Center on December 7 & 8 as a workshop production. It will include an adapted version of “A Chorus of Female Voices” as well as the previously published “Sheitlestock”. You can learn more about Que Será, Será and support its development here.


TRANSCRIPT:

I’m 8 years old. My parents take me to see the movie “Some Like it Hot” starring Marilyn Monroe. It’s a fancy theatre with plush red seats. We’re in the very front row of the balcony, high over the orchestra.  

A thick shiny brass railing protects us from falling onto the people seated below. Marilyn is singing ​“I’m through with love, I’ll never fall again,” ​and as she​ ​breathes in deeply through her pouted lips to enunciate her words, I can see the details of her full breasts through her tight-fitting, completely sheer gown. I’m standing up, gripping the bar, leaning all the way over the top as far as I can, trying to climb​ into​ the movie — to immerse myself between Marilyn Monroe’s breasts.