Lesbian: A Lesbian Life Worth Repairing Read online

  Lesbian

  A Lesbian Life Worth Repairing

  Astrid P. Seguin

  Lorrine

  Lorrine darted through the door to the tavern and slammed it behind her like the hounds of hell snapped at her heels. People raised their heads from their booze and conversations, looked her over, then resumed drinking. Unimportant, the actions read. She felt an uncomfortable flush spread over her cheeks, but tossed her hair back over her shoulders and walked to the bar, head held high.

  "Give me your best Djinn piss," she demanded of the bartender, who raised an eyebrow.

  "Sure you can handle it? That's a man's drink."

  "I don't care a rat's ass about your prejudices. Give me the drink. Now."

  "All right, no need to get hasty. But if you can't hack it, and wind up passing out, and get carried away by some drunk man. . . Well, I'm not responsible."

  Lorrine glared. The bartender shrugged and poured her a mug from a dusty bottle.

  "There you go, missy. It's your funeral."

  Lorrine slapped a few coins down on the bar, perched on a stool, and grasped the mug with both hands. The first mouthful tasted awful, hence the name Djinn piss. She'd never drank piss from a real Djinn, and rather doubted they had that kind of body functions at all, but the liquid tasted just like she imagined it would if a Djinn pissed in a cup.

  But the second mouthful, and the third, now that tasted better. She sighed and relaxed a little, feeling the comforting burn all the way down her throat.

  Someone settled on the stool beside her, dropping a mug of yeasty-smelling beer on the bar.

  "You look a little upset. Want to talk about it?"

  "Go away," Lorrine told her drink.

  "What, you're going to dismiss me without even looking at me? What if you liked what you saw?"

  Mostly unwillingly, Lorrine glanced at her unwanted companion, drawing breath to send him packing. Then her breath caught, and she forgot all about turning it into unfriendly words.

  "Who are you?" she asked the man, who somehow managed to look like everything she wanted and needed just now, at this miserably vulnerable moment. Tanned skin, not as dark as hers, brown hair with blond highlights, all angular good looks and lovely brown eyes. . . He couldn't be more the opposite of Kama if he tried. Oddly enough, his hand fiddled with something beneath his shirt, but she didn't care about that in the least.

  "My name's Derfek," he said, and she wondered at the change in his voice. Somehow it sounded warmer, richer. She wanted to hear more of it. "What's yours?"

  "Lorrine."

  She stared at this man, this Derfek, for a long moment, until he smiled and laughed at her. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

  "No, of course not." She had another sip of her drink to cover her confusion.

  "So why don't you tell me your problem? Surely you don't come in here every night and drink the nastiest thing to come out of Dargasi lands other than sandstorms. I would've noticed."

  She hunched her shoulders, glaring at her mug. Wouldn't do to aim that particular expression at this man. "My best friend's a pervert."

  "Really, now?"

  "Yeah. Kama. She. . . well, she kissed me."

  "My dear, that is simply shocking!" Lorrine looked up, saw his eyes welling with sympathy and concern. "Of course you're upset. No wonder. Perverts are disgusting."

  "Yes," Lorrine agreed, even though her heart twisted within her. Something disgusting lurked deep inside her very own self, too. "Yes."

  "And so you left her, and came here, seeking out my company, even if you didn't know it yet."

  Derfek gave her a dangerous smile. It clouded her judgment, made her want to do reckless things. She knocked back more of her Djinn piss, then smiled.

  "What makes you think that? Got anything worthy of my attention?"

  Derfek chuckled, looking her over with naked appraisal. "You're certainly pretty enough to find out what I've got. Why don't you come upstairs and join me?"

  Lorrine considered the offer for a moment, spinning her mug around in her hands. She'd never gone to bed with a man within moments of meeting him. In fact, she'd only ever gone to bed with one other man, just a few times before he'd run off and left her alone. Was she drunk enough yet to not care?

  Then she realized if she said no, he'd take his fabulous good looks, his appropriately male body, and the voice she craved hearing away, and go sleep with someone else.

  "Sure," she said, gulping down a last mouthful of Djinn piss before shoving the mug aside and standing. "Let's go."

  This'll show Kama.

  Kama

  The morning after it happened, Kama looked at herself in the mirror and decided she couldn't possibly look worse under any circumstances. Her eyes, nothing but bloodshot orbs, hid behind lids all puffy from crying. Her skin, normally smooth and creamy, looked blotchy and even greasy. That never happened. She always took good care of her skin in particular, because she loved its clear beauty, the even skin tone and lack of blemishes. . . Not that she had any reason to do so now, of course.

  Her hair also failed inspection. Ratty, greasy, tangled. . . In short, she looked like she'd been up most of the night crying.

  How appropriate. Because, of course, she'd done exactly that, cried most of the night as though her heart would never mend.

  Mechanically, Kama picked up her hairbrush, a silver-backed one she'd spent nearly a week's income on, and began working out the knots in her hair. Lorrine used to do that for her. The long, heavy mass was a bit much for one person to take care of. Maybe she'd better cut it right now, before the memory of feeling Lorrine's gentle hands brushing out her braid at the end of the day made her cry again.

  Too late. The tears came, just a few of them, prickling and stinging horribly as they worked their way out of sore eyes and down raw cheeks.

  "Oh, Lorra, why? What happened?"

  Her marred reflection stared back at her, expressionless, accusing. You know why.

  "But you're the one that started it!"

  If only she could forget the feeling of Lorra in her arms, the softness of her lips, the tenderness of. . .

  No.

  Kama tried a new tactic. Don't torture herself, instead finish the task at hand. Her hands resumed brushing. She made it perhaps half a dozen strokes before it became Lorrine's hands holding the brush, Lorrine's voice chiding her for letting her hair get in such a state. Her face crumpled and Kama collapsed against her vanity, sobbing hopelessly.

  Somehow, Kama picked herself up out of the puddle of tears. She focused on each motion, rather than each emotion. Because she had to get to work. If she didn't go to work, she would lose everything she had left. Her income kept her off the streets. Her good looks, of which she'd always been so proud, made certain she'd never have a noble patron. Ladies were thrilled to come to her, or more often send servants, with their orders, and wore her embroidered spiderweave with great pride, but they all uniformly refused to offer her a place in their homes. Was there not one single wealthy man in this entire city trusted by his wife? And not one single woman willing to listen when she told them their husbands were safe from her, she'd rather bed a donkey from the lowliest stable than lie with a man. Any man. So, lacking noble patronage, she'd better get her self-pitying body dressed and out the door, before Mistress Banchek came and hauled her into the shop by the ear.

  She put on her working dress, although her hands wanted to linger on the softness of the lounging robe she'd worn last night, the one that drew Lorrine's eyes straight to the V in the neck. Damn the woman, anyway! With her hot eyes, and her gentle touches, and her look of sheer panic when they'd kissed. Or, more specifically, the pa
nic came after Lorrine kissed Kama very thoroughly. She'd never been kissed like that in her entire life. Not that she'd run around kissing many people, but she'd had to find out somehow she liked girls better than boys, right?

  Kama snarled at herself. Quit thinking!

  The injunction got her through the rest of preparing for work and all the way down to the table of Louella's Boarding House For Women. But her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. How could she eat, when her entire world had been shattered by a foolish prejudice mere hours ago?

  So Kama bypassed the breakfast table, nodded to Louella, and set off for her workplace, the Knittin' Kitten clothing shop.

  The ancient city of Eirian, somewhat worn and ragged around the edges, wrapped around her with comforting arms. She'd lived here more than half of her life, and she loved the place unreservedly. Memories of her life before coming here didn't bear thinking on. But this city, with its majestic, soaring, multicolored granite structures, had picked her up right out of the gutter and sheltered her, nurtured her, given her strength. Too bad it couldn't mend a broken heart.

  She lived along the Way of Tears, which felt utterly appropriate today, with her eyes and face raw from an excess of tears. Three streets to the north lay the Great Tree Road, a street which led past the Knittin' Kitten all the way to the base of the Great Tree. Very sad, beyond all belief, really, that the Great Tree was the last survivor of the Elder Days. Well, at least the only survivor here in the city. Rumors suggested a few others lingered on, out in the most secret wild places. The poor old Tree had run mad centuries ago, perhaps even millennia ago. Now it no longer spoke intelligible words. There were records, of course, from so long ago it took the First Goddess's magic to keep them intact, of what the tree had said as an intelligent member of the City Council. Now, it only moaned and gibbered in mad agony on rare occasions.

  Kama wondered what life was like back then, when the world was young and mythical beings mingled freely with humans. She'd always believed, unlike most modern folk. The Great Tree gave proof enough to her that the stories had at least some truth to them. She'd heard it speak, once, when she was much younger. True, it hadn't said anything comprehensible, but it still made sounds no lesser tree ever could, and teased at her very soul with fingers of emotion.

  Then, just as Kama started to feel like maybe, possibly, she might make it through the day, she saw a familiar sight: Lorrine entering the shop. She stopped, causing a pedestrian behind her to run smack into her. The man grumbled something vaguely apologetic and pushed past her, as Kama stared and trembled. Somehow she hadn't realized Lorrine would come to work, just like always. But she forced her suddenly leaden feet into action again, because of course, Lorrine's presence didn't alter the fact that she still needed to pay the rent on her room at the boarding house.

  So she went inside, ignored everybody, and picked up her basket. She tucked herself into the quietest approximation of a corner she could find, although the lighting was abysmal, and picked up her first piece of work. Hopefully she'd tucked herself far enough out of the light that no one would notice the tears in her eyes or the trembling in her hands.

  Yesterday, Kama had been one of the most accomplished needlewomen in the known world. Her embroidered spiderweave garments graced the wardrobes of the wealthiest nobility, royalty, and even more than a few temples. But today, well. . . Suffice it to say her skills definitely felt the blow of last night's emotional excess. She actually had to pick out a single flower not just once, but three times, which wreaked havoc on the delicate spiderweave it was supposed to enhance.

  Something blocked her inadequate light as she finally finished a satisfactory bloom. She looked up, hiding a wince as she took in Mistress Banchek's scowl.

  "What are you doing over here in the dark, missy? This is no place to work, and you know it."

  "I. . . I'd rather be by myself today, and this seemed the best place to do so."

  "Being by yourself is fine, as long as you can see to finish that work. You know it's too important to make a mess of. Come on, then."

  Mistress Banchek dragged Kama and her basket right up to the front window and deposited her on her normal stool, in full light. Then the Mistress looked at her, frowning.

  "Kama, what's wrong with you? Have you been crying?"

  "No," Kama lied, even though her eyes threatened to fill with tears. Again. How many tears could one pair of eyes cry?

  "I swear, I don't know what I'm going to do with you," Mistress Banchek began, shaking her head, hands balled up into fists and resting on her ample hips. Then something interrupted her. The door crashed open, letting in a wild-eyed young man. Lorrine lit up like a torch, dropping her work and standing.

  "Derfek! What are you doing here?"

  The man gave off an overall impression of roguishness. Kama hated him instantly.

  Derfek strode through the cluster of women working on various clothing projects and took Lorrine's hands.

  "I have come for you, my love," he said, and his voice carried the strident tone of someone putting on an act, rather than sincerity. "Remember what I told you this morning?"

  "That it was almost time for you to move on? Yes, of course I remember. Why?"

  "Because now it is time, and I would like to take you with me."

  Kama gasped.

  Lorrine pulled back a bit. "Leave? Now? You mean, leave the city?"

  "Yes, of course, dearest. What else would I mean?"

  Lorrine looked at Kama before making her response, the first time she'd acknowledged Kama's presence all day. She stared for a moment, eyes distant and expressionless, then looked back to Derfek. She deliberately closed up and set aside her sewing basket. "Let's go, then."

  "No! Oh, no, Lorrine. . . Please don't go!"

  "Shut up, Kama," Lorrine replied, barely taking her eyes off Derfek. "You damned pervert."

  Then she accepted Derfek's outstretched hand, and swept away in a whirlwind of excitement, leaving Kama's destroyed dreams in her wake.

  "Well," Mistress Banchek said, as the door closed behind the couple, "I suppose now I know what you've been crying about."

  Seeker

  Derfek slipped out of the bed, leaving his latest conquest smiling contentedly at him and purring like a kitten. Her dark skin made a satisfying contrast against the pale linen of the bedding, and her looks were worlds away better than old Countess Nimmea. Not too bad a catch. And this one was Dargasi, and could get him an open door into that most mysterious of lands.

  He stretched, smiling as Lorrine's eyes drank in the sight of his naked body with deep appreciation.

  "You should take that amulet off," she said. "It looks funny when that's the only thing you're wearing. What is it, anyway? Damn thing kept smacking me on the nose."

  He clutched the amulet protectively close. "Sorry, lover. This never comes off. It's religious, a requirement of my faith. I can never be without it."

  The magic of the compulsion spell built into the amulet kicked in then, and she gave in immediately. "Oh. Well, in that case, leave it on. I suppose I'd better get dressed."

  "Probably wouldn't hurt. I've got to get out of here soon, anyway. No time for more pleasure." He pulled his own clothes on quickly and easily. He'd had a bit of practice, after all. "I'll be moving on soon, you know."

  "What do you mean?" Lorrine paused in her own dressing, breasts bare as she clutched her crumpled tunic in sudden apprehension.

  "I travel a lot. That's why I stay at the inn, remember? I don't really live here."

  Lorrine pulled her tunic on slowly, considering his words. "Will you come back?"

  "For you, my dearest? Of course." He smiled reassuringly. "Perhaps you would even accompany me someday."

  "Oh, I don't know if I could—"

  "I'd teach you magic," he offered, making a flashy little ball of light and tossing it at her. She gasped, and ducked. It flew past harmlessly and faded into the bed.

  "Magic? Really?"

  "Yes, rea
lly. You don't have to make up your mind right now. Just remember the offer's open."

  Derfek made some more suitably meaningless small talk, assured Lorrine she'd see him again, and sent her off to her workplace with a kiss.

  Then he sent himself off to his own workplace, one of the elegant old granite palaces.

  The doorman greeted him with a frosty look.

  "It is well past time for you to show up, sir," he said, managing to imbue the polite words with just the right degree of insult to avoid crossing the line. "The Countess has been waiting for you."

  And making life miserable for the rest of us, his tone implied.

  "Relax, Sam," Derfek grinned. "Even the best of us can oversleep sometimes. Just show me in, would you? I'll make it right, I promise."

  The doorman gave one of his superior sniffs and turned his back, leading Derfek through the old palace without further comment.

  The Countess, a rather large, but sweet old biddy, awaited him in the Communication Room. Clouds of incense billowed around her, and the strategically placed elemental lights created more broody shadows than light. The crystal skull on the center of the table caught all the available light and magnified it into a puddle of brightness.

  "Oh, Seeker Ralla! At last you have come!"

  The Countess fluttered until Sam left them alone, then swept Derfek, or rather, Seeker Ralla, into her arms. She kissed him sloppily but thoroughly.

  "I am so sorry I am late, my dearest," Derfek murmured. "Even a Seeker may oversleep a time or two."

  "Perhaps I can find it in my heart to forgive you," Nimmea cooed. "You must make it up to me, though. And you must perform splendidly, to compensate me for my distress."

  "And so I shall," Derfek promised, then broke free of the woman's clinging hold. "Now. On to business. Let us prepare the ritual, dear love."

  Fired

  "Kama, what exactly is this?"

  Mistress Banchek examined the finished embroidered vest with a disbelieving eye. She overlooked all the most obvious flaws, and instead held up the subtlest error of all. The delicate, iridescent thread showed subtle fraying from being picked apart too many times and didn't lay particularly smooth.