Lesbian Love

I was born a woman. At least the last time I looked. I had the labia, the cavernous hole, the mammalian breasts and I smoked--a distinctly female addiction. Then why did I think of myself as a man? Perhaps because I was raised in the same manner and with the same positive reinforcement as my brother. Maybe because I wanted to be like my brother. Or better yet, perhaps because I wanted to be him. I indeed pulled that one off with a one-year lesbian relationship.

 Jill Siegel had been the possessive Jewish American princess in soft butch disguise. Jill wore tight black Versace jeans when I first met her which clung to her like a second skin. She had short brown hair and sported a men’s t-shirt with black and white stripes. Her nose had a cleft in it which I ended up calling a “tushie in her nose.” She had deep, brown eyes and white teeth. It was the smile that did me in when she opened the front door on our blind date. She’ll never like me, I thought to myself. She’s too pretty.

She welcomed me into her home and her cat circled around me. Her entire home was decorated in the cat motif—from the teabag holder to the embroidered cat hanging on the wall. Jill had a feline quality to her—soft, gentle and very passive. She had a hitch in her gait due to the MS she had. She admitted to me that she had a memory problem but I was undaunted.

She took out pictures of her ex, Sylvia, a dominating-looking big blonde with blue eyes. I listened cordially to her talk about her ex’s. I thought that was common for a first date. We then grabbed a bite at a local family restaurant where she refused my leftovers because she felt like it was charity. Jill was a proud woman despite her illness. She did not feel sorry for herself.

We returned home and watched the Jet game together. Her condo was cluttered and sloppy, but I was totally enamored by Jill. She removed her bra and sat next to me on the couch.

“Do you mind if I kiss you?” I asked her experiencing the sexual tension that one could only hope to experience on a first date.

“Hey, I took off my bra for you,” she replied.

I kissed her soft, supple lips and ventured to pursue this kiss further. I plunged my tongue into her mouth and she pulled her tongue back. It was less than a passionate kiss, but I was aroused anyway. She was such a nice woman.

“Spend the night,” she pleaded.