For the next week, Lauren stopped by Nina's house almost every day to work with the kids. She and I didn't talk much, except to discuss things related to the kids. She didn't text me the mundane details of her day like she always had before. She didn't call me to chat when she was driving home from the hospital. The silence from her was deafening.
Every day, my stomach would be in knots in anticipation of seeing her. Each day I would think to myself, "Today is the day I'm going to get her alone to talk so we can clear all of this up." And every day, Lauren would make sure she was never alone with me. She'd make excuses to leave before the last kids had left. She'd arrive late, after rehearsals had begun. She was doing her best to avoid me, while honoring her commitment to the kids. It hurt, but there wasn't much I could do.
A local dance studio had closed down, and they donated their floors and mirrors to Nina's House. With the work of many teenagers and volunteers, one of the old classrooms had been converted into a room where the kids could practice. Plans for fundraisers to raise money for a sound system were in the works.
The dance club now consisted of 12 girls and 2 boys had joined up. They were getting really good. One girl in particular, Georgia, who the kids affectionately called Georgie, had emerged as the star break-dancer of the group. Georgie was a fifteen year old girl who lived with her mother and her mother's boyfriend. She didn't talk much. As with many of the kids, her home life wasn't good.
She had practiced her head spin for hours and hours. She always had a ski cap hanging out of the back pocket of her jeans. She would tuck her curly black hair into the ski cap when she would practice her head spins to keep her hair from getting matted.
Lauren had really taken Georgie under her wing and would often pull her aside to work with her one-on-one. Georgie looked up to Lauren, and I'd heard her grades had improved in school and she was even talking about becoming a doctor. The bond Georgie had with Lauren was a fierce reminder of the power of mentoring and community support for these kids.
One Friday afternoon, Georgie walked into the dance room at Nina's House and tossed her red backpack into a corner in disgust. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and her cheeks were streaked with tears. The kids had been in the middle of rehearsing, and they all turned to look at Georgie in surprise. I turned the music off. Georgie pressed her back up against the wall and slid down to a sitting position on the floor, as a sob escaped her throat.
I hurried over to her and knelt beside her. The other kids crowded around. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked. Her face was buried in her arms, which were wrapped around her knees. I rubbed her back and the other kids tried to coax her to respond, but she just shook her head.
Lauren had texted me that she would be arriving, soon. I managed to get the kids to give Georgie some space and go back to rehearsing. Georgie continued to sit against the wall in the back of the room. Sometimes she would watch the group as they practiced, and other times she would cover her face with her hands and silently cry.
When she arrived, Lauren went straight to the back of the room and sat on the floor next to Georgie. The two of them stayed deep in conversation for the remainder of the rehearsal. I could see the eyes of the kids in the mirror, watching the two of them and I tried to keep them as focused on practice, as possible. They were all very curious and concerned about their friend.
As it came time for Nina's House to close for the day, Georgie stood up and slung her backpack on her shoulder. The kids gathered their belongings and some of the girls walked out of the room with Georgie. Lauren and I hung behind.
"Is she okay?" I asked, as the last kid left.
Her eyes were worried, her lips were thin and her hands were on her hips as she looked at me thoughtfully and shook her head. "I don't know. She won't tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, she feels hopeless. She kept telling me she didn't know what she was going to do and that her mom was going to be so mad."
As she grabbed her keys and turned off the lights, Lauren began telling me more about Georgie. Georgie was the youngest of four children. The other three kids were adults and didn't live at home, anymore. Her mother worked two jobs and had a loser boyfriend. The boyfriend didn't work and Georgie had hinted around that he did drugs and was abusive to her mother. Georgie hated him, but her mother loved him and refused to kick him out. I was surprised. I didn't realize Georgie had opened-up so much to Lauren.
Lauren told me she didn't know if Georgie's problem was something going on at home or at school. It was hard to tell if it was typical teenage drama, or something more sinister. "I don't like the Mom's boyfriend and I bet this has something to do with him," she speculated. We decided Lauren would talk to Georgie more on Monday.
We walked outside together after locking the building. It was the first time we had been alone together all week. I was surprised when Lauren asked if I wanted to sit in her car and talk. I agreed and we headed to the parking lot.
The air was cool and I could smell the faint odor of burning wood. The wind was blowing through the trees and the grass was damp and brown, as is typical of Florida in the fall. It was dusk, and the light from the sun was fading fast as it sunk on the horizon.
I climbed into the passenger seat of Lauren's Mercedes. She cranked up the car and leaned her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes. I studied her face. She was beautiful. Her long, black hair was pulled back halfway, which emphasized her high cheekbones. Her olive skin was smooth and there was the faintest hint of gloss on her well-shaped mouth. I could tell she was tired and worried. I wasn't sure what to say or where to begin. So I said nothing.
Lauren broke the silence. "Brian is really mad at me.", she said, without moving her head or opening her eyes. "He's mad that I made him go home that night from your house."
Lauren went on to tell me that she had talked him into leaving that night, by saying that I was pretty drunk and she didn't think anything was actually going to happen with us. She knew he had wanted a threesome, but she also knew that was something I wasn't ready for. When she got home the next morning and told him the whole story, Brian got angry and told her that she had tricked him and that he considered our tryst to be cheating. He had forbidden her to hang out with me, anymore.
"He knows I've been with other girls and it never bothered him. He's told me before that I can be with a girl and it's ok. I'm not sure if he's mad that I had sex with you because he actually thinks it's cheating or if he's jealous that he wasn't in on the action."
By this time, Lauren had turned in her seat so she was facing me and had tucked one leg under the other. She kept glancing around to look out the windows, as if checking to see if anyone was watching.
I couldn't stop staring at her mouth. I knew what she was talking about was serious, but I couldn't help myself. My mouth began watering a little as I thought of how her lips felt on mine.
I was so mesmerized that I was no longer hearing anything she was saying. I just suddenly noticed she was quiet.
I broke out of my reverie and realized she was watching me intently. "Kate, I don't know if this was a good idea. It's hard for me to be alone with you and not think about the other night."
I reached out my hand and she instinctively reached hers out, too. Our palms met and our fingers intertwined. I pulled her toward me, and she eagerly moved her head toward mine. Our tongues met as soon as she put her lips on mine.
I leaned my seat back as far as it would go and we giggled as she climbed over the console to lay on top of me. She leaned her head down again to kiss me. A small moan escaped my throat as she settled her hips between my legs. I could feel her mound pressing against me and I shifted my hips so it was pressed against my clit. She began gyrating her hips and I could feel myself getting wet.
She pulled up my shirt and bra in one motion. She lifted her own shirt and bra and lined our warm breasts up against each other. I sighed when she settled her weight back on top of me with our breasts pressed together.
I wanted to touch her so badly. I slid my hand inside the waistband of her sweatpants, down past the elastic of her panties until I encountered her smooth pussy. She was so wet. My fingers were sliding around in her juices as I massaged her clit and both of us were panting. I tried to pull her pants down and she stopped me by grabbing one of my hands.
"We can't," she said breathlessly. "Someone will see us."
I pulled my hand away and urged her head down to me, as I pouted a little. "But I wanna play." She gave a small laugh and kissed me. "I want to play, too, but it wouldn't look to great if someone comes by and sees our tits out and my face between your legs." The thought of her mouth on my clit made my pussy warm and wetter.
She looked at me thoughtfully. "I have an idea." She leaned over me and rifled around in the backseat. She was stretched out above me, and I couldn't resist taking one of her nipples into my mouth. She sucked in her breath and paused, closing her eyes and enjoying my tongue drawing circles around her sensitive flesh. After a couple of minutes of distraction by my mouth, she managed to focus enough to be able to grab a beach towel off the backseat.
"Take off your pants and panties," she commanded, sitting back in the driver's seat to give me some space. I shimmied out of my clothes. I slid the passenger seat as far back as it would go and and she got me to lay back with my legs bent at the knee and my feet resting on the edge of the seat. She then covered my bottom half with the towel and put her head underneath it, while kneeling on the floorboard of the passenger seat. I noticed the windows were fogged-up and I had to resist the urge to press my hand against the glass to make a handprint.
I could feel her warm breath as she gently spread me open with her fingers. Then I felt her tongue. Oh, God. I think I said the words out loud, but I'm not sure. The sensation of her moist tongue slowly, oh-so-slowly, gliding along my lips was delicious. I started panting in anticipation as she got closer to my clit. I was a little disappointed when she stopped right before getting to it, and started again from the bottom and slowly licked her way up. She did it again and again, and always stopping short of my clit. She was teasing me and it was working. I was pressing myself against her face and whimpering.
"Please," I begged. "Oh, God!" She laughed, softly. She was thoroughly enjoying torturing me.
I panted more as she kissed the inside of my thigh and licked the crease. I reached down to guide her head as I pressed myself to her face. "I love the way you taste," she whispered as she slid two fingers inside me and licked my clit. She rhythmically ran her tongue over my clit several times, while massaging my g-spot with her fingers. It took every bit of self-control I had not to scream as my pussy convulsed around her fingers and waves of pleasure signaled the release of all the pent-up tension that had been building.
"I love you," she whispered as she slid up on top of me. "I have no idea what the hell is happening between us. I'm not gay. But whatever this is, it's crazy."