Disclosures - SF4

  Disclosures

  June in San Francisco and a young woman's thoughts turn to... Pride Weekend! Ryan begins to introduce Jamie to some of the secrets of the lesbian lifestyle.

  The first night they make love in her family home, Jamie falls asleep while Ryan whispers, Go goinnne Dia thu. May God keep you.

  He's going to have to work overtime as specters from Ryan's troubled past come back to haunt the new lovers.

  Part 1

  Glittering blue eyes sparkled with mirth as an impossibly long, leather-covered leg gracefully swept over the bulk of an aqua and cream colored Harley-Davidson. Muscular legs wrestled the silent beast into position as a pair of shorter but similarly muscular thighs slid into place.

  The driver turned and caught the gaze of her passenger. Stunningly white teeth were revealed behind luscious, full, rose-tinted lips. "Ready?" the deep alto voice rumbled.

  "Let’s go," the confident voice of her passenger agreed.

  The right leg of the driver sprang into action, giving the lever under her boot a hearty kick, causing the machine to roar to life. The small blonde passenger was, as usual, slightly stunned by the crescendo of sound and sensation that flooded her body as the bike thrummed under her. She spread her fingers apart to gain additional purchase on the waist of the driver, smiling slyly as she reveled in the feel of the supple leather that covered her lover’s torso.

  This is so trippy, the blonde ruminated. A year ago I was having my new engagement ring fitted. I was 20 years old and I thought that I had already made most of the important decisions in my life. She laughed softly, shaking her head at her callowness. I knew who I would marry, I knew where my husband would work and what kind of life we would lead. I knew we would have children, join a country club, and participate in the social scene of San Francisco. I’d never been on a motorcycle. I’d never given conscious thought to even kissing a woman. And I’d certainly never even heard of such a thing as a "Dyke March!"

  The motorcycle turned onto the quiet street and was immediately guided up a steep hill. Jamie tightened her hold, slipping her right arm snugly around her lover and smiling to herself, as she considered the woman she clung to.

  When Ryan told me that she was going to teach me the secret handshake I almost lost it! she mused as they rolled through the streets of the Noe Valley. I mean, she had been teasing me about that for months, but I certainly never expected her to make good on the offer!

  The trip was a short one, lasting only until they reached Dolores—just six blocks from Ryan’s home. As the bike was maneuvered into a semi-legal parking space near Dolores Park, Jamie looked up to witness one of the most amazing sights she had ever seen.

  Women…lots of women…lots and lots of women. Women of every size, shape, color, and age. Women in wheelchairs, with walkers, with guide dogs. Women alone, with partners, with groups of friends. Women with children, women and their dogs, and even a woman with a loquacious parrot balanced upon her shoulder.

  All of them were converging on the park, filling the flat expanse of ground that made up most of the land, and even now beginning to dot the rather abrupt hillside that surrounded it.

  "Pretty impressive, isn’t it?" Ryan commented with a note of pride in her voice as she held the bike steady so that Jamie could hop off.

  Removing her helmet, Jamie tossed her short blonde hair from her eyes and shook her head in amazement. She had been in many large groups in her life, but never…never had she been in the midst of this many women. She guessed that there must be at least five or six thousand women already gathered, and the streets near the park continued to funnel more in, adding to the number.

  "I’m stunned," she mumbled, as Ryan set the bike on its kickstand and came to stand next to her.

  Ryan chuckled at her astonishment, then locked both helmets onto the bike before taking Jamie’s hand and tugging her in the proper direction. "Let’s go, my little neophyte. It’s time you met the family."

  When Ryan had posed the suggestion earlier in the afternoon, Jamie had been reticent to attend the gathering. "Dyke march?" she asked, a slightly sour expression on her face. "Dyke march?" She had a hard time picturing herself in such an assembly. First off, she didn’t think of herself as a dyke. Oh, she was most definitely sleeping with…well, sleeping wasn’t the activity that she participated in that would cause many to characterize her as a dyke. Nonetheless, though she was having lots of hot, girl-on-girl action with the lovely woman who gazed down at her, she did not think that made her a dyke. Ryan had assured her that she was just the same person she had been before they were intimate, and she believed her completely. She had not been a dyke a week ago—so she was surely not one now.

  Aside from the label, though, Jamie had never been to a march of any kind, and she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to break that pattern. There was something vaguely sinister about the term "march" that she was uncomfortable with. She had a strong suspicion that this gathering would not be just a friendly little "meet and greet" with other women. Having lived in the San Francisco Bay Area her whole life, she knew that the gay and lesbian communities were very willing to express their displeasure with any number of issues, often in a truculent fashion. She was not angry with anyone—nor did she have an interest in civil disobedience of any kind. She was mulling over her qualms when Ryan tried to draw her out.

  "What’s going on in that cute little head?" An elegantly shaped finger tapped at Jamie’s skull.

  "Ummm," she stalled, trying to think of the best way to explain her reservations. "I guess I’m just not a protest-y kinda girl."

  "It’s not a protest… Well, it’s kind of a demonstration, but not in the traditional sense."

  "Huh?"

  Ryan's dark hair tumbled around her shoulders as she shook her head slightly, chuckling at her own abstruseness. "I didn’t do a very good job with that, did I?" She smiled and tried again. "It’s a demonstration of the power of women in the community, Babe. It’s a way to remind people that the gay community has a very large lesbian contingent. Sometimes society lumps us all together, and this is a way to say that we are different people with different agendas."

  Hmmm, Jamie thought to herself. I’ve never had an agenda in my life…and I’m not sure I want one now.

  Ryan could see the hesitancy that was still evident in Jamie’s body language, so she tried another tactic. "Okay, how about this. I’m gonna get dressed in my dykiest outfit and ride my motorcycle to meet a bunch of my friends and ex-lovers. Wanna go?" A crooked grin accompanied this statement and Jamie felt her heart melt at the disarmingly charming woman’s expression.

  "I’m in!" she declared, tossing her head back and laughing at how easy Ryan made everything.

  As they crossed the street, Jamie held on to her partner’s hand a little tighter than usual. Her reservations had diminished now that she saw the gathering was really more of a party than anything else. These women looked far from angry. They looked… well, for the most part, they looked incredibly hot! Jamie knew that she was just starting to develop an appetite for looking at other women, but her limited experience led her to acknowledge that she was crazy about dykes—the butchier the better! Yet, every time she stopped to think about this fact, she was puzzled. It stood to reason that she would be attracted to the slightly androgynous Armani-wearing art dealers of SOMA or the preppy lesbians who lived around Union Street. Oddly, those types of women did nothing for her. Give her a leather-jacketed woman with muscles to spare and her knees grew weak. Looking up at her partner, she had to acknowledge that she had snagged the best-looking specimen of the species that she had ever seen.

  To Jamie’s appreciative eyes, Ryan always looked hot. But there was something about her today that made the sma
ller woman question whether it was safe to be in public with her for fear that she would not be able to control herself.

  After Ryan announced her intention to come to the march, she had led Jamie down to their new room to present her with a few gifts. It took a minute for the blonde to get her mind around the idea that Ryan wanted to see her in the outfit presented, but her partner had been so generous in her willingness to dress up to please Jamie that she had to give it a go.

  She had been gifted with many items of clothing throughout her life. Since her mother was more of a compulsive shopper than she, it was rare that she did not receive a little something when she went to visit. But in all of her 21 years, she had never been given an outfit like this.

  "Is this how you see me?" she asked slowly, as she held up the scuffed brown bomber jacket and green khaki pants.

  "Ummm, I’m not sure what you mean by that." Ryan hesitated, thinking that perhaps Jamie misunderstood the purpose of the gift.

  "I guess I mean that I never wear clothes like this. If this is how you want me to look, we’re gonna have to do some negotiating."

  Ryan crossed the room and gave her partner a gentle hug, inhaling deeply to take in another whiff of her perfume. "No, Babe, I don’t see you this way. I don’t want to change the way you dress."

  "Then why…"

  Ryan interrupted to explain, "I just thought you’d feel more comfortable if you had some dyke clothes. If you wear your normal stuff, you’ll stick out like a sore thumb." Seeing the hurt look that started to form, she added, "I know you don’t feel like a lesbian, Babe. And I’m sure you don’t feel like a dyke. I just thought you might feel more comfortable if you at least looked the part. It’s kinda like wearing a long dress and a head covering in Iran. It doesn’t mean you are Muslim, but it helps you to fit in."

  "You sure you like how I normally look?" she asked, suddenly insecure about her personal style.

  "I positively love how you look," Ryan averred. "I love that you don’t look like all of the other women I’ve dated. You’re…special," she decided. "That’s it. You’re special."

  Jamie’s hands laced behind Ryan’s neck and pulled her down for a lingering kiss. Without conscious thought, Ryan’s hands slipped under the short dress and started to play.

  "Uh-uh-uh," Jamie chided, as she removed the questing hands from her butt. "We’ve got a march to attend."

  Ryan went to shower while Jamie got into her new outfit. To her amazement, everything fit perfectly. The green fatigues hung low on her waist and hugged her hips snugly, while the matching green ribbed cropped undershirt allowed a good view of Ryan’s favorite part—her abdomen. She laced up the black Doc Marten’s, tucking her pants into the tops of the boots to complete her "basic training" look. I wonder where the dog tags are, she mused as she went to the closet to pick out something for her partner to wear.

  When Ryan came out, the first words out of her mouth were, "No, Honey. Oh no, not that!"

  The blonde head nodded slowly, intent on seeing her vision come to life.

  "I don’t think I can even get into that," the dark beauty complained, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic whine.

  Another nod as Jamie approached her with the garment in question. "Oh, all right," she grumbled. "I’ve got to put some baby powder on or we’ll never get it zipped."

  Looking up at her partner as they approached the crowd, Jamie had to congratulate herself one more time on her choice of attire. Besides the supple leather pants that fit like a second skin, Ryan wore a short leather vest that left a few inches of her midriff exposed. The vest was held closed by an aggressive-looking metal zipper that stopped just at the top of her cleavage. And oh, what cleavage she had today! The top was so tight that a bra was completely unnecessary--they even had to work together to get the darned thing zipped. Ryan had to bend at the waist, holding her breasts together while Jamie got on her knees to work the recalcitrant zipper, but eventually the struggling breasts behaved themselves and went along peaceably.

  Pulling her partner to a halt, Jamie was compelled to toss her arms around her neck and give her a hearty thank you, both for bringing her to this event and for agreeing to wear the chosen outfit. Ryan grinned down at her in surprise, but quickly got into the mood and returned the kiss. Seconds later she yanked away in shock as a large hand slapped her soundly on her leather-covered ass. "Hey!" the dark-haired woman cried as she whirled around to confront her attacker.

  A tall redhead wearing nothing but a big smile and a pair of jeans grinned impishly at Ryan. "Candace!" she cried, wrapping the half-naked woman in a hug.

  Jamie immediately began to reassess her pleasure at having come to this party. Seeing Ryan holding a bare-breasted woman was not on her top ten list of favorite things to do, and she had to force herself not to let her displeasure show.

  "How’ve you been, ‘O’?" the woman asked, using the moniker that several women on the AIDS Ride used for Ryan.

  "I've been great!" Ryan nearly cried. She was filled with energy and enthusiasm, and even though Jamie didn’t like to see her in a clinch with another woman, she reveled in seeing her this happy. "I’d like to introduce you to the woman who makes me great," she added quickly. "Candace, this is Jamie…my spouse."

  Ryan had never used that term in public, and Jamie immediately sensed that she had chosen the term to make the nature of their relationship crystal clear to the women they would meet this day. Jamie couldn’t keep the wide grin from her face as she extended her hand to greet Ryan’s friend. "I had no idea, Ryan," Candace said as she shook Jamie’s hand. "Congratulations, girl!" She had to give Ryan another hug, but this time Jamie smiled at the scene, feeling very reassured by the introduction.

  "Yep," Ryan beamed. "I’m off the market." She gave Candace a pointed grin and added, "Tell your friends."

  "Will do, Babe," she agreed with a playful wink.

  Candace slapped them both on the shoulder and started to walk away but Ryan called out, "Hey, is Ally here?"

  "No, she went to New York for their Pride Celebration. I’ll tell her I saw you, though."

  "Cool. See ya, Candace."

  Jamie’s smirk was firmly affixed to her face as they gazed at the departing woman. "That was?"

  "That was Candace," Ryan said, a big smile gracing her mischievous face.

  "Was she one of the lucky many to experience your charms?" It was clear that Jamie was joking, and that she was comfortable with meeting past lovers, so Ryan answered without hesitation.

  "I’m charming with everyone, Babe." She had an ingenuous grin on her face that forced Jamie to admit the truth in that statement. "She, however, has been allowed to nibble on my charms." Another stingingly sharp swat on the butt was beginning to make Ryan regret wearing her leather pants.

  It took a few minutes to struggle through the crowd, but Jamie finally found what she was looking for. Nearly every woman wore a bright da-glo sticker on some part of her anatomy, and the determined blonde had made her selection as soon as they got in the slow-moving line. She plunked down three dollars and affixed the stickers to her satisfaction. All three four-by-six inch stickers bore the same saying, and she stuck one above Ryan’s heart, another over her own and the third right above the swell of Ryan’s shapely ass.

  "Very funny, Jamie," her partner glowered as she looked over her shoulder to read "Happily Married" imprinted on her butt. "Not that I disagree with the sentiment, but did you have to stick one there?"

  "Just trying to guard my assets." Wiggling eyebrows forced Ryan to chortle along with her smirking partner. "You seem to draw an exorbitant amount of attention there, so I thought I’d better nip it in the bud."

  In order to get a good view of the entire crowd, they decided to climb the bank of the small hill that surrounded the park. A few women were lounging on blankets, and several larger groups were having parties where they could spread out a little. The members of one such group recognized Ryan and waved her over. "Do you mind?" she asked Jamie befo
re heading in their direction.

  "No, of course not, Honey. I want to meet your friends."

  Giving the group a happy wave, Ryan led her partner towards them. They were still 20 feet away when the catcalls began. "It’s true!" "I never thought I would see this!" "Ryan O’Flaherty in a relationship! Not possible!" "I’m gonna faint!"

  "Very funny, guys, truly hilarious." Ryan stood at her full height, hands on hips, and glowered at the group. There were about fifteen women lounging around who looked like they had been there a long while, judging from the sunburned skin, empty beer bottles and somewhat vacant expressions.

  "How did it happen, Ryan?" one small woman asked. "Did ya knock her up?"

  "Yeah, did ya have to marry her?" another comic chimed in.

  "As a matter of fact, I did." Ryan slung a long, bare arm around her partner and pulled her close. "And I marry her again every time I look into those beautiful eyes."

  Jamie beamed a smile up at her partner, ignoring the groans and the retching simulations. When everyone had quieted down, she grabbed a spot on the blanket and plopped down as she introduced herself. "I’m Mrs. Ryan O’Flaherty, but you can call me Jamie."

  Ryan did the honors of pointing out each member of the group as she sat down next to her partner. A woman named Molly, just to her left, looked up as she opened a fresh beer and offered, "Sip?"

  Ryan took one look at the glassy eyes of the woman and accepted the icy can. Tilting her head back she drained the entire can in one long gulp, with Jamie and Molly watching in shock. "That’s the biggest damn sip I ever saw," Molly drawled as she collapsed onto the woman next to her.

  Trying to find the most sober member of the crowd, Ryan asked, "How long have you guys been here?"

  "Since about noon," Wendy replied, looking at her watch in amazement. "Jeez, no wonder the beer’s all gone—it’s six o’clock!"

  "Why don’t you all take a little nap before the march starts," Ryan suggested. "They won’t leave before eight."