I'M FEMALE, I'M MAFIA

BRENDA'S POV - II

“Well, your silhouette looked really scary from over there." I turned and caught a glimpse of my shadow. My head looked distorted against the naked walls, and the curlers made it look three times as big. “Point taken."

“I can’t go to bed now,” she complained. “Can you get us a video out?”

I rolled my eyes but went over to the shelf and scanned the rows of purchased tapes and those Tesy had recorded from television, all labeled in her slanted, dynamic handwriting. “Dirty Dancing?”

Tesy puffed. “Not again."

“What’s this one? Kylie Minogue?” I picked up a tape that said The Hidden on the cover.

“They’re this small-town couple in the fifties, and their parents won’t let them be together because they’re underage. It’s good, let’s watch it."

I immediately loved Lola, Kylie Minogue’s character. She must have been around my age, but she knew what she wanted and she broke all the rules to get it once she had made up her mind. I wished I could be that rebellious. I wished I could find such a star-crossed love and be happy and wistful all the time.

“I wonder if it’s true,” Tesy mused, her eyes glued to the screen. “I mean, if s*x is really that great."

I shrugged. “Don’t know. But when Jeremy got under my shirt, it felt pretty awkward."

Tesy snorted. “That’s because Jeremy is a jerk!” I snickered.

“But it must be better than that,” she said, a note of defiance in her tone. “I once saw my mom doing it."

My eyes widened. “You walked in on your mom?”

“You can’t tell anyone!”

I shook my head. “Cross my heart."

“It was with one of the camera guys."

“Weren’t they mad at you?”

“I don’t think they saw me. I backtracked immediately. And they were too caught up… Well, actually, my mom was wearing a blindfold and he was…busy."

“A blindfold?” I whispered, breath bated. “And what was he doing?”

Tesy was silent for a moment. “He had his head between... her oranges and he kissed them and licked them and, you know. What guys do."

“I can’t imagine what the fuss is all about. I mean, what’s with the boob obsession?”

Tesy threw a glance at the movie and shrugged. “Don’t know. They must feel good, I guess."

“Maybe,” I said, following Tesy’s stare. But then, suddenly, she turned her eyes from the screen and looked right at me.

“Wanna try?” she asked.

Heat shot into my stomach. I knew immediately what she meant. But it seemed too outrageous a suggestion. And what was I supposed to do? What if I did it all wrong? What if it was embarrassing? I kept my eyes fixed on the television. “Try what?” I asked.

She c****d her head, but didn’t answer my question. “To see if it feels good,” she stated simply.

My hands grew sweaty. “How… I mean, do you… Are you serious?” I knew she was. I could always tell when Tesy was serious.

She averted her eyes and fiddled with the waistband of her pajamas. “Just… to find out. I mean, we could see what it feels like."

I swallowed and looked at her Pretty Woman T-shirt, washed so many times the letters were barely visible. Not that I wasn’t curious. But not as curious as I was scared. I turned back to the screen. I could never imagine being like that with a man. The one thing I could relate to was the clumsiness with which Bobby, Lindale’s boyfriend, undressed her. But Tesy… I had known her since forever. She had been my one true confidante, no matter what. Still…

“Don’t you think it will be strange?” I asked.

She kept her gaze fixed on the couch. “No,” she said, and even though her voice was small, there was no doubt in it. Somehow, her confidence rubbed off on me and compounded my curiosity.

“Okay."

She raised her head. “Yes?”

I nodded. For a moment, we looked at each other as if we were mountaineers, steeling ourselves before climbing some unknown, hazardous mountain. A serene earnestness descended over Tesy’s face. “Count to three?” she asked, and again I nodded.

That was the summer of 1983 and now I'm an adult.

* * *

Why did I leave the Army?

They tell you about the heat of the desert, and the sand. God, how I hate the sand. It was 2005 and we were deep in the heart of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, military-speak for gay is a dirty secret. I was three months into a six-month deployment when all hell broke loose. Casualties were incoming, and my section had been activated as manpower to move patients from the choppers to the hospital. All the practice in the world can’t prepare you for what you see. I know. I’ll never forget it.

An hour in, and my mind grew numb. Tears had long since dried on my face. My arms were still strong, responding automatically to my lift partners.

Three hours in, and I didn’t even remember my name. I was reaching for the next wounded soldier in the Black Hawk when a hand touched my forearm. I looked up into the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen. She struck me as a fairy, cute pert nose, short-cropped sable hair, jade green eyes and a smile that nearly knocked me on my ass. She was stunning.

“Hang in there” was all she said, but it was enough. I nodded abruptly, gave a small smile and pulled the next patient. Throughout the afternoon I saw her half a dozen times and caught myself looking for her, wishing for that smile to keep me going. I’d noticed she was a captain, so definitely untouchable, but I wanted to get to know her, see that smile to fight off the worst of my day.