Bidding War Read online

She laughed. "I'm sorry."

  "Tell me about your first sushi experience."

  She thought about it for a minute. "It was in college. I was seeing this woman from Japan. It was casual. Steamy but casual. She took me."

  "What was her name?"

  "Kazuko," she said. "She was lovely."

  "Do you remember what you had?"

  Gwendolyn looked over at me. "The first time we went, she kept it simple. Nigiri and spicy tuna rolls, I believe. We went a few times, and she introduced some of the more exotic items."

  "Do you like those?"

  She shrugged. "I won't order any tonight, but you certainly may if you like. My favorites are pretty tame. I like the salmon and tuna nigiri, spicy tuna rolls and California rolls."

  "Those are my favorites, too," I said. "Especially the tuna."

  She smiled. "Something in common."

  I reached over with my right hand and caressed the skin on her arm. She glanced over at me and smiled.

  "You've been out with Moira."

  "How can you tell?"

  She glanced down at my fingers. "That."

  "Have you and Moira dated?"

  "No. We would be horrible together. We're both dominant. We would fight horribly." She smiled in understanding. "Now I know why I don't get any truffles."

  "I'm sorry," I told her.

  "No. This wasn't your idea. You didn't even want to be there."

  "You are both being amazing so far," I said. "No freaking the straight girl."

  She laughed. "All part of our fiendish plan to both earn a toaster oven."

  I laughed. "Doesn't it go to whichever of you beds me first?"

  "Maybe it'll be a threesome."

  "We'd need to make it four and invite Bonnie."

  "Oh, now that would change the dynamic," Gwendolyn said. "Bonnie is a handful."

  "Are you talking about her chest or her ass?"

  Gwendolyn smiled. "No comment."

  "Have you checked out my ass?" I asked her.

  "Yes."

  "Really? When?"

  "When you were on stage. I wouldn't mind a closer look."

  "Did it pass inspection, Doctor?"

  "Cursory inspection only," she said. "If you want a proper medical opinion, you'll need to take off the dress."

  I smiled. "I guess I'll have to live with the cursory inspection."

  She looked over. "We're just flirting."

  "I know. I'm having fun."

  "Good."

  We pulled off the freeway and began working our way through the surface streets. Grand Avenue was busy, but it's always busy. But it was early, and the parking lot wasn't too full. Gwendolyn parked, and we climbed out. At the back of the car, I took her arm. She reached over with her right hand to cover my hands on her arm, but had to release me to open the doors. We stepped inside and were promptly led to a table.

  The restaurant was cozy. Not too small, but not huge, with a simple Japanese decor. There was a sushi bar along one side and too hibachi tables in the opposite corner, but we sat at a table near the middle, sitting across the table from each other.

  "Will you let me order?" she asked.

  "Will you be ordering my favorites?"

  "And a few other things. You are not obligated to eat anything that doesn't suit you."

  The waitress came by, and Gwendolyn ordered for us in Japanese. She surprised the waitress, but I heard "hai, hai, hai" from the waitress, so Gwendolyn's Japanese must have been understandable.

  "Where did you meet Kazuko?"

  "In Tokyo."

  "You went to college in Japan?"

  "One semester junior year," she said. "My Japanese is rusty, but I retain enough to order our meal."

  "Did you do that to impress me?"

  "Maybe a little, but I never get to practice it, so when I can, it becomes one of my simple joys."

  The waitress came back with tea and hot towels for our hands.

  I asked Gwendolyn about Japan. "I'd like to go back some time," she said eventually.

  "I'd like to go sometime, too. I would love spending a few days at the Nihan Ki-in."

  Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. "You play go?"

  "A boyfriend taught me in college." I paused. "The same boyfriend who taught me about the joy of sushi."

  "Have you played since?"

  "A little." I smiled. "Kazuko taught you go?"

  "No," she said. "Another girl. Once she taught me, we would place wagers on the games." Gwendolyn smiled. "I would very much enjoy placing similar wagers with you."

  "I bet I can guess the nature of the wagers." I paused. "I'll play you for a foot massage."

  "Deal."

  Our conversation took another awkward silence. I look at her for a minute then set my hand on the table, palm up. She looked down at it, then reach over and began caressing my fingers. We sat quietly like that for several minutes, Gwendolyn gently caressing my hand, until the food began to arrive. She squeezed my hand for a moment and pulled away.

  Dinner was lovely. She had ordered my favorites, her favorites, and a few things I hadn't had before. Everything was good, except the eel. I refused to touch it.

  "So not adventurous?" she asked.

  "I've had it before. I don't like eating rubber. I don't eat calamari, either."

  We finished our meal, then sat quietly and finished our tea. We'd run out conversation again, but when I offered my hand, Gwendolyn accepted the offer to touch me.

  I liked her touch and was hungry for more. I wanted to know if she could affect me the way Moira had. I was having a very nice time, but I wasn't feeling swept away like I had with Moira. Dancing could change that.

  Finally Gwendolyn paid the bill, and we got up. She led me out the door after settling my pashmina for me. She caressed my neck and shoulders in the process, and I wanted to lean against her.

  "You're not acting like a straight girl," she said once we stepped outside.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "Don't be," she replied. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

  "No. I am trying to have a nice time though. And offering what I can to help you have a nice time, too. I don't know what you like, so I don't know what to offer."

  This time she led me to my door and opened it for me. I caressed her cheek before settling in. She closed the door and climbed in on her side.

  Before starting the car she turned to me. "You are inviting a lot more touch than I thought I could expect."

  "You're not a toucher? Am I driving you crazy?"

  "You're driving me crazy all right," she said, looking me up and down.

  "Go slow, but you haven't hit my limits yet," I told her. I paused. "Naked isn't in the cards, so if that's your goal, you'll be disappointed."

  "I can be very good," she said. "No one has ever complained."

  "Gwendolyn, you didn't pay what you did because you wanted someone who would fall into bed on command. You knew I was straight, and you paid an outrageous amount of money anyway. I believe you would be deeply disappointed if I let you take me to bed."

  "Is that the only reason you're saying no?"

  "Of course not. But if that's what you really wanted, you should have bid on Bonnie."

  She didn't say anything right away. "I have well-developed habits. They aren't necessarily the habits I want to have. Will you forgive me?"

  "Of course," I said. "I am just deeply afraid of disappointing you. I can fend off your advances." I paused. "But is that how you want to spend the time together?"

  "No, it's not. If I don't knock it off, will you please yell at me?"

  "No. I'll just dance with someone else for a while."

  She laughed. "Would you really?"

  "Absolutely." I paused. "If it turns egregious, I'll get mad, and you won't get a goodnight kiss."

  "Oh dear," she said. "I really am sorry."

  "Take me dancing, Gwendolyn. You can flirt my ass off all you want, as long as you stop trying to flirt my dress off."

 
She laughed. "Deal."

  She started the car and pulled out of the lot.

  "Where are we going to go dancing?" I asked.

  "Would a lesbian nightclub bother you?"

  "Will I get mauled?"

  "Of course not. Unless you want to be."

  "I don't. Touching good. Mauling bad."

  "It's a safe place."

  It took us twenty minutes to reach the bar in Edina. We parked in one of the few remaining places. "Will they have a table?"

  "I reserved one," she said. We climbed out, and I took her arm. She led the way to a set of downward steps at the side of the building. We reached the bottom and stepped into a very retro-looking foyer.

  "Did you want to check the pashmina?"

  "Yes."

  Gwendolyn took it from me and gave it to the attendant then took my hand and led me through the double doors into the main room of the nightclub. I looked around. The hostess was dressed like a 1920s flapper, and I saw a waitress dressed in a similar fashion.

  "It's an old speakeasy!"

  Gwendolyn nodded then turned to the hostess. "Hello, Carol."

  "Hello, Gwendolyn," the hostess said. "I have a table along the side, just like you asked." The woman led us to a booth along the wall opposite of the bar. If we had traveled further into the nightclub, we would have arrived at the dance floor.

  I looked around. I didn't see any men, but I saw a lot of women. I turned to Gwendolyn. "This is the Underground Lipstick."

  She nodded. "You've heard of it?"

  "Sam and Suzanne were talking about it a while ago. They'll be amused to know we had come here."

  The waitress came by. We ordered diet sodas. "Are you going to have dinner?" she asked.

  "No," Gwendolyn said. "But we'll eat something later."

  She nodded and disappeared.

  We could ear the music clearly from our table, but it wasn't so loud I couldn't talk to Gwendolyn. She had sat across from me, which disappointed me a little, but I decided to play it cool. I looked at the dance floor.

  She smiled. "You're anxious to dance."

  I nodded.

  "Well then, shall we?"

  She walked me to the dance floor. We arrived just as the song ended. The next song came on, and I moved into Gwendolyn's arms. She was surprised and didn't know how to dance, so I led, changing grips and pulling her against me. The song was a little bluesy, so I gave her a bluesy style with my right leg between hers, hers between mine, and our pelvises pressed together. Her eyes widened.

  "This is a little forward," she said.

  I ignored her protests but began moving her side to side in time to the music, using my leg to lead her body movements. She was stiff at first, but once she loosened up, we began to have a nice time.

  I looked around a little while we were dancing. There were four other couples dancing, two of them in a fashion similar to us. But mostly I watched Gwendolyn.

  She tried to back lead, but I didn't let her. If she wanted to lead, she was going to have to learn to dance properly. The song ended, and she looked a little miffed. I pulled her ear down to my mouth.

  "I know you aren't used to letting someone else lead. But I'm a better dancer than you are. Can you enjoy this? If not, we can freestyle."

  "Where did the straight girl learn to lead such a passionate style?"

  A new song came up. It was a slow song. I adjusted my stance, wrapping my arms around her neck and laying my head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and we swayed slowly to the music.

  The previous dances had been a little stressful for me, but this was nice, and my heart began to pound while being held in Gwendolyn's arms. I could breathe in her scent and feel her strong arms wrapped around me. She was a perfect height for me, and being held by her felt good.

  I sighed against her neck.

  "Is this okay?" she asked into my ear.

  "Yes."

  "I'm sorry I'm not very good."

  "Stop it," I told her. "All that matters is you try to have a nice time. Do you like holding me?"

  "Yes."

  "I like being held by you. That's all that matters. Focus on that."

  I felt her relax, and things felt better right away.

  The song ended too soon and was followed by something very fast. Gwendolyn tried to pull away right away, but I held her for a moment, then when I did release her, I looked up into her eyes. I liked our height difference and her strength. She was strong and soft at the same time, a new experience for me.

  Then I slipped to her side and cuddled against her arm, leaning my head on her shoulder again. We moved back to our booth, retreating from the loud music, and when she slid into her seat, I slid in next to her, maintaining our contact. I clutched her arm with both of my hands and kept my head on her shoulder.

  "Is this what you envisioned?" I asked her.

  "No. I thought you would be standoffish."

  "Do you want me to be?"

  "No." She laughed a little. "But I had a game plan for trying to get you to relax, and I didn't make one for this."

  I looked up at her, and she looked down into my eyes. "In your past relationships, who usually leads?"

  "I do."

  I smiled. "So the surgeon doesn't know what to do when she doesn't have a plan prepared?"

  "No. Everything I do is planned."

  "Well, if you want to lead, you better make a plan quick or I'm leading all night."

  She offered a half smile.

  "While you're thinking about it, tell me a story."

  "A story? Once upon a time?"

  "Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Gwendolyn," I said. "She was a very precocious child, tall for her age and a little bit of a tomboy, but sweet and gentle at the same time." I paused. "I don't know the rest."

  "I don't have many happy stories from growing up," she said quietly.

  "How about an important story?"

  "All right," she agreed. "Gwendolyn's early childhood, which she barely remembers, was happy. Her father was a busy man, big a strong, but he had hoped for a boy, and he had little time for his young daughter. Gwendolyn's mother did what she could to make up for this, and Gwendolyn knew she was loved by her mother, and even her father in his own way."

  She took a sip from her soda.

  "Christmas Eve, when the little girl was seven years old, that all changed. Gwendolyn, her mommy and her daddy were taking a chariot ride home from Grandmama's house when another chariot driver, driven by someone who had consumed seven too many eggnogs, crashed into Gwendolyn's father's chariot." She paused. My heart sinking, I looked up at her. She was staring into space. I thought about stopping her, but she wouldn't have picked this story if she hadn't wanted to tell me. I clutched her more firmly.

  After several moments, Gwendolyn continued the story. "Gwendolyn herself was riding in the back seat and was amazingly lucky, suffering bruises from the seat belt but no other damage. Gwendolyn's parents were not so lucky. Mommy was killed immediately. Daddy was hurt badly." She paused.

  "Gwendolyn began immediately screaming for her mommy, but Mommy wasn't answering. Neither was Daddy. She was old enough, and very precocious, that she understand this was very, very bad. Gwendolyn's door was jammed shut from the accident, and the window was smashed, so after trying the door several times, she climbed out through the window. Both front doors had flown open in the accident, and Gwendolyn flew to her mommy's side right away, but Mommy wasn't responsive to Gwendolyn's screams. When she look across to Daddy, he was making strange noises."

  "Gwendolyn screamed, 'Daddy, Daddy', and ran around the car to his side. There was blood on his face, and he was making gurgling sounds trying to breath. Blood was pouring out of a wound in his arm. Gwendolyn knew that was bad, and she wrapped her hands tightly around the wound, trying to stop the blood, but it kept gushing out around her small hands."

  By now there were tears crawling down my cheeks as I thought about this young girl facing
first hand the death of both of her parents. I didn't bother hiding them, but clutched Gwendolyn more tightly. I felt her glance down and squeeze my hand.

  "It took a long time for the policemen to come. Daddy had stopped making any noises before they came. A lady police officer pulled a screaming Gwendolyn away from her daddy, and Gwendolyn doesn't remember anything after that for a long time. All she remembers is thinking, if she were a doctor, she could have saved Daddy."

  Gwendolyn's voice changed. "Of course, that wasn't remotely true. The injuries were far too severe, but seven-year-old Gwendolyn didn't understand that."

  She paused, and her voice changed again, becoming bitter. "Gwendolyn's father's parents died before Gwendolyn was born, and her Mommy's parents were living in a nursing home. They couldn't take care of a little girl. Both Mommy and Daddy were only children, and so there was no one to take care of little Gwendolyn. And so, she spent her middle childhood years in The Foster System."

  "As a foster child, Gwendolyn learned to avoid Foster Daddy, especially when he had been drinking. As she got older, she learned to avoid him entirely and grew to understand men were not nice creatures. Foster Mommy was better. She only hit Gwendolyn when Gwendolyn deserved it, such as telling lies about what Foster Daddy tried to do to her."

  "Oh god," I said.

  She patted my hand for a moment. "Gwendolyn was very good at avoiding Foster Daddy, though, and he was never able to do anything too bad. But when Gwendolyn turned sixteen, she applied for and was granted emancipation, declared a legal adult. The judge told her that he had never met a more adult sixteen year old in his entire years on the bench, although he was concerned about Gwendolyn's ability to keep a job while going to school. Upon hearing about Gwendolyn's desires to become a doctor, the judge called a friend of his and got Gwendolyn a job in a doctor's office, where she was paid far more than a sixteen-year-old should have been paid, even including a small room over the garage of the doctor's house."

  "Doctor Travis was a kindly man, not that many years away from retirement, and his wife was equally kind. Their children had long ago moved away, and they missed having them around, so they doted on Gwendolyn, providing love and guidance as she became a young adult, earning full scholarships first to college and then medical school. It was Doctor Travis who suggested she become a vascular surgeon, and it was perhaps the best advice he ever gave Gwendolyn that she took. He also told her to take time to be happy, but she was never very good at following that advice."