Stevie's Search

I strongly believe that there is a key to existence. It is balance. Which is funny, considering the sign of the scales – or balance – is Libra, and the Libra I know best is my mother the extremist, whom I despise. But contentment itself is defined as an emotional balance – so I think humans need balance to feel content, and waves of unbalance one way or another temporarily sways our mood back and forth. Lack of balance obviously throws things off in many cases. Hence my theory that all humans are basically bisexual. 

Even if we choose one sex over another based on whatever theory we believe in (genetics? environment? I believe it’s development), nature made us bisexual because it is a balanced ideal. And although humans may desire one over another because of a general human flaw, nature would not mess up like that; Nature is infallible and balanced. We screw up. Just look at us! I lived life way too fast and grew up way too quickly, experienced way too much at a young age. Chris didn’t live quite enough.

I always knew our backgrounds were different, but that’s OK – therein lies the yin and yang. I though it could work, even if interlaced with occasional chaos, a mere variation. But, as Marilyn French (an author whom I revere) said, “A little chaos is good for the soul.” The chaos definitely balanced out the gentle smoothness. Then threw us all off-kilter. 

*******

I’ve had other girls, some guys, and a first love whom I loved beyond words. After losing her I thought I would never love again. So it goes. I’m over her. And have fallen completely and irrevocably in love with Chris. To think that now I am losing her.

Or have lost her. Even as our relationship slowly and almost imperceptibly waned, I yearned for the days of our love in new bloom, when I gently tied her hands to the bed with fuzzy handcuffs, asking her if she trusted me, in true lesbian lovers’ style. I half expected the typical response, “I trust you more than anyone else,” but her statement eerily rang true, “I trust you more than I trust myself. Because you take substantially better care of me than I ever have, and probably ever will.” It was like being a horse whose master massages its back, feeds it apples and sugar, and sings to it while the horse bears his weight – an obvious burden, but one difficult to resent. 

I grow sick of the yearning. I grow physically ill at the waiting for a blow to come, for the next pain to strike me. It’s useless to lay listless, nostalgic, and broken in a bed with linens still randomly splotched with white from the drying of a love I once had that I refuse to wash out and of which I cannot cleanse myself already. I need to get out again. The only thing left to do is try again to find a love like the one I had. I did it once; I can do it again. Keep trying until it once again feels right.

I imagine my greatest fear is actually succeeding. 

*******

“Going out tonight, buddy?” Melissa put an arm around my shoulder and fired the question as though it were any old Friday night. As if making my own plans was a task accomplished without the unbidden question springing to mind… ‘I wonder what Chris is doing tonight…?’

“I don’t know.” I yawned unconvincingly, borrowing Chris’s choice line. Choice weapon, that ‘I don’t know’… “I’m uninspired.”
Melissa giggled at that. “I asked you for your plans for tonight. Not for you to create a masterpiece.”

“It would be a masterpiece if I got out tonight, and in need of much inspiration. I’ll title it ‘The Friday Dyke Resurrection.’ Now, what medium shall we choose? Painting, song, or poem?”

“How about song. So we can dance to it tonight. At the party we’re going to.”
“Yeah, well, 14-18 year old club is on Sunday. It’s not easy being seventeen on a Friday.”
“It’s never easy being seventeen. Look, I said party. There shouldn’t be booze or pot, but there should be loud music and lotsa teens. I know some of the girl’s friends. Some are queer or at least bi. C’mon. Go!”
It wasn’t a question, so it didn’t warrant an answer. I went.

*******

“Hey queer.”
“How’s it going, homo?”
“It’s my little lez!”
“Yo, my dyke!”

Greeting those I already knew and all the introductions that followed were not as difficult as I would have imagined. Same old, same old. The little queer fraternization. The first time Chris heard such endearing welcomes, she nearly socked an innocent little fag in the mouth. 
“Hey babe. I heard you’re newly single.” A stunning blonde beauty seemed to have landed before me. She smiled seductively.
“Uh. Yeah. I just broke up with my girlfriend. Uh… well… I’m guessing you’re somewhat queer, then?” 
“Yeah, I’m bi. Aren’t we all?”

*Aren’t we all.* The phrase reverberated in my head. Too many implications. My choice to remain lesbian, Chris’s choice to dump me hoping to go back to ‘normal’ hetero-land. I desperately wanted to trust this girl, as I had trusted way too many before her. 
“Well, evidently the girl I just broke up with was. I think she’s with a guy now. As with my last girlfriend before her.”

“Hmmmm… what were their names?” I don’t think she meant to be intrusive, but I couldn’t betray Chris, as much as she had betrayed me. And had I answered both questions, the betrayal would have been twofold. For one, I would have been giving away Chris’s dark secret, obviously. Secondly, when I fell in love with Chris I swore I wouldn’t even mention my ex’s name, leaving her out of my life and not interfering with Chris. I still loved Chris. It was not in me to do such an awful thing. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t wanna think about it.” 
“That’s OK. I’m part queer, so I’m here for you. Don’t worry. Hey, have you had the punch?”
“I don’t wanna think about what crazy shit that’s got in it.” I was no fool. I needed to trust, but not that badly. 
“Good point. But I’m starved. As I’m sure you are.”

She grabbed us both pizza, and we ate it as she stared into my eyes. I hoped she didn’t read my still-burning love for Chris. I didn’t need to alienate any potential…
“Here, babe. Have a soda.” She handed me some Pepsi she poured while I was in my dazed reverie.
I shouldn’t have trusted. I shouldn’t have trusted her. Who the fuck can I trust anymore? 

*******

I think Chris was standing over me as I came to. Or maybe I just hoped it was Chris since I was still wrapped up in the heroism that exists in that bullshit ideal world. I think she was scared. I think she cared. I wondered where Melissa was.

“You’re awake. Finally. They doped you, huh? I doubted you would do this on your own.”
I had no idea at first what she was talking about. I think I was outside. I thought a lot of things at the time. And it hurt to think, but it hurt to not think and stay in mental darkness, so I permitted my musings. And my words. 

“Where did you come from? No, I’m still not straight so I’m still dangerous.”
“What in fuck’s name are you talking about, Stevie? Are you still feeling high? And even if you’re not straight, you looked pretty straight to me when you let all those guys…”

Chris trailed off, her remaining care for me a defense mechanism against her running mouth foaming with torturous fact. “Look, Stevie. I just happened to check out the party because I didn’t think you and Melissa would be there.” What a lie. I wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t a cheerleader-football player soiree. “And if you’re wondering about Melissa, she went somewhere with this blonde girl. Probably right before they attacked you. She must have known something.”

“Known something? She drugged me.” 

“You took stuff from some stupid slut like that? Jesus fuck, Stevie, what were you thinking?” She started crying despite herself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But I can’t see you like this. Are you OK, baby?”

“Go away Chris. I won’t fall for this again. You made your choice. I won’t let you…” I started crying too. This was getting way too sentimental for me. I’d had too many sensitive events in the last week. “I won’t let you hurt me again. I loved you, Chris. I loved…”

She cut me off with a kiss. It was so cliché, yet so appropriate, that as I mentally detached myself in defense, as the drug had done for me when the boys had raped me, I had to return to my body. I couldn’t help it. The soft hair at the back of her neck and her heart, enclosed between her warm breasts and pressed comfortably and desperately against my own, drew me not only back into my own body, but even further into hers. I don’t think she meant to have sex with me in the cold night in God-knows-where after I had just been drugged with roofies and gang-raped after being seduced by a sneaky blonde slut who took advantage of my weak condition after breaking up with the love of my life. 

Neither of us believed sex was a healer, or could revoke the demons that shattered our lives. Even if only temporarily. But I do believe she wanted to show me the love she had withheld from me out of fear and uncertainty. She almost asked permission in her lovely face as she peeled off my scant but sweaty, dirty clothes. I noticed tears beginning to run as she stared at my bruised body. She refused to remove her body from mine, keeping me warm in the chill, as she gently tried to bring back memory of pleasure in my body by softly licking my nipples with her warm tongue. Not satisfied until I surrendered myself to her gentle touch with a gasp, Chris took my gross pants and put them on herself, where they hung loosely on her perfect body. Luckily, hers were extremely baggy and fit me fine. She also gave me her me her T-shirt and her favorite sweatshirt, and remained contentedly in her zipped winter jacket. She gracefully helped me to my feet, and took a good portion of my weight as she let me lean on her for the walk to her house. It was not far.

*******

The first place she guided me was to her bathroom. She ran the tub, filling it with comfortable warm water, and gently stripped me and placed me on the edge of the tub, kissing me passionately. I think she was resolved to stay with me. There was no way she could be this close without such resolve. So I surrendered. She lowered me into the tub and ran her hands down my body, warmly, wetting both my stomach and her long hands. She let out a sob at the sight of white guys’ cum oozing out of me, but took joy in cleansing me, softly running a finger up my pussy and brushing my g-spot on her way out. The water was warm, like wet bliss, and Chris’s love flowed through her mouth and out of her tongue that licked me into rapture. I shivered, wet in the cool air, so Chris quickly shed her clothes and lay over my body, keeping me warm. I couldn’t help but pleasure Chris in return, for I missed the sound of my lover’s pleasure so badly, I needed to hear my lover experiencing bliss. I grasped Chris’s lower back, pressing Chris’s pussy into my face, petting the fuzz on her back as I licked her into heaven. It was inevitable; it was destiny. We came at the exact same time, strong pulsing orgasms beginning in our pussies and causing a tremor two ways- up our bodies and spines, and also through each others’ tongues and down our bodies. With soft splashes, my Chris rotated her torso and kissed me so lovingly, I was literally high. There was heaven, and she was my angel. I had finally found heaven. 
And although I was not dead, I remained in heaven. My search for bliss is over. And now it is just us. Stevie and Chris. Forever.

Author’s note: 
Yes, I am aware that this is a happy ending, although the stories of the authors I admire on this site (Jackie, I am referring to you) often feature “realistic,” depressing endings. Thus, this story’s ending may seem too idealistic, with the whole “forever” bit at the end. I beg to differ. As I said through Stevie (although that character was not “me,” per se), I believe in balance in life – some smiles to counter the tears. And although this ended on a happy note, it is obvious that happiness is not the end-all and be-all. Remember Part 1, when Chris said she trashed herself after a fight with her lover? That was evidently Stevie. There is no perfection in life, but sometimes a perfect middle, a perfect balance. And, quite possibly, a forever.