lesbians

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

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