Chapter 1
My job was something I could never have planned on.
If you'd asked me four years earlier what I'd be doing when I graduated, it wouldn't have been in the top ten. Or anywhere.
Four years earlier, my plan had been to learn about business in order to bolster a worthy non-profit - a women's shelter, a health advocacy group for the aging, an organization providing legal support for the underprivileged, or a similar endeavor. It wouldn't have been to enter the corporate world.
It wouldn't have been to manage a small entertainment enterprise.
Four years earlier, I had never heard of an axe-throwing bar.
To be fair, my plans hadn't changed greatly, except that I'd decided to get some business experience before returning to school to work on an MBA. Most programs recommended spending a couple of years in the real world before beginning. And the last four years had been tough enough that I wasn't ready to move straight to a master's.
I needed a job, whether or not I loathed the idea of working for a corporation.
So when my friend Clare mentioned that her aunt was looking for a back office person for a startup, I applied for the job. Even though the startup was an axe-throwing bar in a gentrified neighborhood.
Shelby, Claire's aunt and my boss, was an entrepreneur. Dark-skinned, in her upper thirties, she was slight, and considerably shorter than me at about five-two, but possessing an intimidating glare that I tried hard to avoid.
Starting young, with family funding, Shelby had invested very successfully in real estate. Now she owned a number of commercial properties. Most of these were leased to commercial tenants, but recently she'd devised her own ventures. Firebird Games, her first operation, was a retro arcade bar. Shelby had no interest in video games, but she'd researched the market, the performance of similar businesses in other cities, their demographics compared with the local population, the proximity of University housing, and decided it would be a profitable venture. She'd been correct.
When the store adjacent to Firebird had moved to larger premises (also owned by Shelby), the arcade's popularity had been growing, and rather than re-lease the unit, Shelby considered synergistic options. She had chosen to move the arcade partly into the new space, giving room for a contemporary mutli-player game area, then give the rest of the place over to a second venture, The Axe's Head, an axe-throwing bar.
She'd hired me, not for any experience with the business, of course, but to offload a lot of the planning, scheduling and publicity. The Axe's Head was still under construction, and would be for a couple of months. Liaising with the contractors was part of my job, though Shelby was supervising me closely. Once construction was complete, I'd have responsibility for staff management, marketing, resource procurement and allocation, supplier negotiation and day-to-day operation.
I would be responsible for choosing the beer that the bar would sell.
It sounded like a lot, and it was, but it was a small operation. Shelby would have overall responsibility. I'd cover as much as I could, and go to her for help. If I could make it work, the experience would be invaluable to pursuing an MBA, and I wouldn't have to submit to a corporate overlord (other than Shelby) to get it.
I would never want to be Shelby. My long-term goal was to support the victims of the system, not to be a part of it. But for a member of the exploiting class, Shelby was an excellent employer, paying well above minimum wage, not just for a novice like me, but for the bar staff and support people. I could respect her work ethic and her attitude, and, most importantly, I could learn from her business sense.
My office was a small room I shared with Shelby at the back of Firebird. After the construction was done, I'd have my own place in the back of the new bar. Until then we survived with the one cramped room, which served not only to manage both bars, but as Shelby's center of operations for her small empire.
I was comparing insurance quotes - who knew there were risks to flinging around sharpened pieces of metal that could bounce off their targets? - when Shelby interrupted me.
"Hey, Fi, you doing anything after six?"
Turning, I rolled my head to work out a crick in my neck. "Watching Netflix?" I replied.
"A friend of ours just broke up with her boyfriend," she said. "We're taking her out to cheer her up. You should join us. Maybe make a new friend." After a second, she added, "She's straight," as if the mention of the boyfriend hadn't made that clear. Shelby had known of my sexuality from the start, since my friendship with her niece was through Gabby's, a queer-friendly club popular with undergraduate lesbians, like Clare and I had both been until we graduated the previous month.
"Well, no one's perfect," I replied, "and I could use more friends. Even straight ones," I added, with a grin.
At home, I switched my tee for a black blouse with a silver chain, and my jeans for a black skirt and stockings, stepped into my high heeled black boots, then darkened my eyeshadow and lip gloss. My old Kia started on the third attempt, and I made my way to the casual restaurant to meet Shelby, her husband Daniel, and their friend.
I recognized Daniel immediately. I'd met him when I interviewed with Shelby. He was her business partner in real estate, and though he didn't have any involvement in her entertainment ventures, she still called on him to give her plans a sanity check. Black, like his wife, though his skin wasn't quite as dark as hers, he had neatly close-cropped hair, and an equally trim beard. Only a little taller than Shelby, his expression was less daunting than hers, but he seemed no less shrewd. He saw me and smiled a welcome as I headed toward their table.
Shelby's straight friend had a fresh-faced prettiness, with a small nose, freckles and barely any makeup. Her short blonde hair was streaked almost white in places, and her skin tanned, both features suggesting she spent a great deal of time outside. Her shoulders were broader than mine, and she may have been a couple of inches taller, though it was hard to tell, as she was sitting at a booth with Shelby and Daniel.
Blue eyes gave me a curious look as I slipped into the seat beside her. Shelby made introductions, and I gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Jenna," she said, though Shelby had just told me her name.
"Fiala," I returned, as Shelby had only introduced me as Fi. "Call me Fi. Rhymes with tea or tree. Or she or me, appropriately enough."
"Shelby said she hired you to run the axe bar?" Jenna suggested.
"I... think Shelby will run the place," I said. "I'm just there to ease the load."
Shelby shrugged. "Fi will have a free hand to run the place," she said, "as long as she does exactly what I tell her."
We all laughed at that.
The waitress showed up at that point, and I ordered myself a margarita. It would be my only alcoholic drink. I took out my ID and credit card, but Shelby told me to put the card away. Food and drink were on her.
There were few vegan options on the menu, but not zero. Usually at a random restaurant I was limited to a side salad, but at this place I could order an avocado tomato sandwich, and the fried mushrooms were okay if I didn't dip them in dressing. No buttermilk batter, which was a pleasant surprise.
After I'd ordered, Daniel interrogated Jenna about her breakup. I thought he was being tactless, but Jenna was unfazed. Clearly she was very comfortable with both of them.
"He was irritating," she said. "He wasn't abusive or controlling, but he liked to mansplain and talk over me."
"Ugh, I hate that," Shelby said.
"I know, right?" Jenna replied. "The straw that broke the camel's back was when he tried to mansplain azaleas. Telling me how you had to raise their beds and acidify the soil. At that point I excused myself and broke up with him by text. I didn't want him to mansplain the mechanics of breakups, and I feel no shame."
"Jesus," Shelby said, she and Daniel both laughing.
"Uh, why is mansplaining azaleas particularly evil?" I asked. "I mean, other than mansplaining in general being terrible?"
"I work in a garden center," Jenna said, grinning at me. "I'm not a trained horticulturist, but I probably know more about any garden plant than Mason ever did. I've been working with plants for six years now."
She didn't seem any older than me. "Straight out of high school?" I asked
"Yeah," she agreed, then eyed me suspiciously. "You're not one of those people who look down on anyone without a degree, are you?"
"Fuck, no," I said. Then glanced up guiltily at Shelby.
"Yeah. No fucking swearing around the fucking boss, okay?" she said, with a mock scowl, and we all cracked up again.
I nursed my margarita well into the meal, when I switched to iced tea. Daniel took a second beer, but remained sober while Jenna and Shelby were getting buzzed on long island iced tea and gin and tonic respectively. I found myself liking Jenna. She was totally unlike the college students I'd been surrounded by for the past four years, and also quite different from Shelby. I liked and respected my boss, but I would never want to be on the wrong side of her.
When the dinner was over, Shelby decided we were going to sneak into the new place to throw axes. I was dubious, since it was still under construction, but it was Shelby's place, after all.
"Can I give you a ride?" I asked Jenna. "You're not driving, I hope?"
"Fuck no," she said. "Sure. I have to ride in the back seat in Shelby's car."
"You can sit in the passenger seat, but I don't promise much comfort," I said, and led her out to the Kia, which behaved well this time, starting on the second attempt. Jenna glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged.
There was only one target, and it was propped up. Daniel checked that it was secure before we took turns throwing. I took a moment to watch a YouTube video on my phone, but it wasn't very helpful. My axe hit the board and clattered to the floor.
When Jenna moved up to throw, I found that I'd been right in my guess. She was about my height in flats, making her a couple of inches taller than me, and her throw was powerful. She was off center but the axe stuck firmly into the target.
Her next throw missed the target completely and took a bite out of the installed sheetrock. Shelby found that hilarious, though she was going to have to pay for the rework. Of course, I would be the one to explain the breakage to the construction crew.
We had no more mishaps, even though Shelby had me bring drinks from the Firebird bar. She and Jenna were giggling together. They were clearly very close. As well as very tipsy.
When it came time to leave, Daniel and I cleared around, then I took care of locking up before giving Daniel the keys for safekeeping.
I offered to take Jenna home. "Don't worry," I told Shelby, "her home, not mine."
"What did that mean?" Jenna asked as Daniel drove away. "Not your home?"
"Did Shelby warn you I'm gay?" I asked.
"Why would she need to warn me? I don't care," said Jenna.
"That's good, but that's all I meant," I said. "I didn't want her to think I was going to take advantage of your drunk state."
Jenna put a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face her as we reached my car. I felt a rush of panic, thinking I'd misread her, but her eyes as they skimmed over my body were full of amusement, not interest. "Try to, you mean." Then she opened the door and flopped down into the passenger seat.
"Point," I agreed, after moving to my side of the car. "I saw how you threw that axe."
Confusion flooded across Jenna's face. Maybe her drunk mind couldn't tell if I was praising her strength or mocking her coordination.
"I wouldn't take you home even if you were gay," I said. "Last time I went home with a drunk girl, things were awkward."
The Kia didn't start on the first attempt. Or the second. When it failed the fourth time, Jenna squirmed in her seat to retrieve her phone from a pocket. "Should I call Daniel to have him jump us?"
"I don't think Shelby would be okay with that," I said, "but you know her better than I do." Jenna looked confused again. "Don't worry, it will start," I assured her, hoping it was the truth.
Fortunately, the car started on the next attempt. "I'm hoping to funnel some of my new salary into a car payment," I said. "Soon."
The Kia always ran smoothly enough after it started. I asked Jenna for her address and headed in that direction. "You don't seem very upset about your breakup," I said. "Shelby thought you'd need cheering up."
Jenna snorted. "She always does," she said, slurring the words. "There was one..." She started counting on her fingers, but gave up. "A long time ago. I was dis... discon..." she scowled and tried again. "I was sad for days. So I think now she takes me out for a pre... preemptive party." She beamed at successfully negotiating the long word.
"So there have been a lot of these parties?" I asked.
"Fee... Feeola, are you asking if I'm a shlut?" she asked, sternly.
"No, I'm not," I said. "But you make it sound like Shelby makes a habit of taking you out for a preemptive party."
"She's my big sister," Jenna pronounced. "I've had a she... series of bad boyfriends, is all."
"I'm sorry to hear it," I said. "You deserve better."
She smiled at that. After a moment, she said, "Hey, Fi... Fi..."
She was clearly trying to avoid mangling my name again. "Fiala," I said, "but call me Fi. It's easier."
"Fiala," she said, determinedly. "Would you like to hang out sometime? I like you. I don't care that you're a lezh... lezh... bian. And I want to hear why taking a drunk girl home was awkward. You owe me that for calling me a shlut."
I laughed. "Sure. Text me." I gave her my number. She typed furiously on her phone for a moment, then I heard my phone buzz.
When we arrived at Jenna's house - a small place well outside town - I offered to come in to brew her a cup of coffee, but she declined, and walked in a reasonable approximation of a straight line to her door. I watched until she was inside, then remembered my phone. Jenna's message read "No taking advantage of your bosses little sister."
I texted Jenna from my desk the following morning, asking how her head was. She didn't get back to me for almost an hour.
Jenna: "I drank lots of water. Hangover not bad, work drove last of it away."
"Jenna says she survived her hangover,' I announced.
"Are you using your phone for personal business during work time?" Shelby asked, but her tone was amused. "Tell her we'll do it again when she dumps the next boyfriend. So you and she hit it off?"
"Yeah, she wants to hang out," I said, keying in Shelby's comment. "She doesn't have a problem with me being a lesbian. Though she does have a problem saying it when she's drunk."
Shelby snickered as my phone beeped. "Is she really your sister?" I asked. "You said friend yesterday."
She shook her head. "I was her babysitter before I left for college. We've always been close, but Daniel and I think of her as family more than a friend, so yeah."
I glanced down at my phone to see what she'd replied.
Jenna: "Tell her if that's her only reason for seeing me I'll have to find someone to dump."
I relayed the message, and Shelby snickered again.
Jenna invited me to a wine bar for a girls' night with her friends, assuring me that I wouldn't be called upon to be a designated driver. Which was good, because the Kia was giving me more trouble, so I took a Lyft, pleased that I could afford to take occasional luxuries like a shared ride.
Her friends were named Megan, Abby, Janet and Paige, but I immediately lost track of which was which. Much of the evening was spent gossiping about boyfriends and exes, and I didn't have a lot to contribute. I hadn't had a girlfriend since a three month period in sophomore year. When I made that comment one of the women became very uncomfortable, and began to make occasional snide comments. The others seemed to take the fact that I was gay in stride, looking uncomfortable in turn at their friend's homophobia.
Jenna suggested that the two of us leave for a late night cafe that was a short walk away. She bought us each a coffee and a scone, mine being non-dairy.
"Sorry about Janet," she said, as we took a table. "I didn't know she'd be like that."
I shrugged. "It isn't the first time. You realize she's probably gossiping about you leaving with me, now?"
"I doubt it," Jenna said. "I'm sure the others slapped her down as soon as we left. They were getting annoyed with her."
"Yeah, I noticed that," I said. "Though none of them seem as relaxed around me as you are."
Jenna took a bite of her scone, washing it down with a sip of coffee. "I think it's just that they don't know you. Also, you didn't take advantage of me when I was drunk."
"Try to," I amended.
She grinned, her teeth white and even. "Right. And you still owe me the story of when you did take a drunk girl home."
Scowling, I said, "I hoped you were too drunk to remember that." Then I sighed. "Not much to tell. She took me home, but I'd been pushing. We'd... hooked up. I thought it meant something. I guess I thought if she could see how good we were together she'd want more. I was wrong."
"So when you said you hadn't had a girlfriend in three years, this wasn't her?" Jenna asked.
"I haven't had a girlfriend," I said. "I didn't say I've been celibate. I didn't think your friend would want to hear that much detail."
"Yeah, that was a good call," she said. "Still, for this girl to take you home and, I guess, sleep with you, before dumping you, that seems cold. I hope I've never treated a guy like that."
"No, I kinda knew I was in the wrong at the time," I said, staring into my coffee. "We're all pretty clear on how hookups are supposed to be no-strings. She wasn't the last girl I've been with, and I've never made the same mistake. We're okay, now. She invited me to her wedding."
"So these hookups are the norm?" Jenna asked, frowning. "Is this like a lesbian dating app?"
"It's just a club," I said. "In-person. It's good for hookups, and some girls find a new partner every time. It's mostly students. I haven't visited in months, and wasn't a very active participant when I did, but there've been a few." I looked up at Jenna and smirked. "Now ask me again if I think you're a slut."
Jenna chuckled, and possibly she blushed slightly. It wasn't easy to tell on her tanned face in the low lighting. "I was drunk. You weren't accusing me of anything."
"I'll take you there one Monday, if you like," I said. "You'd be in the minority, but probably not the only straight woman. If you're ever feeling down, let me take you to Gabby's and see how many times you get hit on."
"You'd do that for me?" Jenna affected a high-pitched effusive tone, fluttering her eyelids, with her hand on her chest. "How totally sweet of you!"
I chuckled. "You never know. If getting male action requires mansplaining, you might be tempted."
We talked until close to the cafe's midnight close, then booked a ride together, since my apartment was close to being on the way to her house.
"Hey, Fi, have you ever been waterskiing?"
The question came out of the blue. I blinked. "No?"
"Want to try?" she asked.
"I... don't know?" I responded. "Is it expensive?"
"Shelby has a boat and skis and spare life jackets," Jenna said. "We haven't been out this year. I'll give her a call."
"Well, uh, sure," I said. "If she's okay with me tagging along. It could be fun."
How I was going to survive the day without making an idiot of myself I didn't know. I thought my biggest problem was going to be that I'd never skied before, and wasn't particularly athletic. But the much bigger problem was stopping my eyes from bugging out of my face, cartoon-style, whenever Jenna came into view.
She wore a neon green two piece. Cross-body thin shoulder straps anchored triangle cups which tightly gripped firm rounded breasts, lifting and centering while presenting the maximum amount of perfect skin to public view. The bottoms were low-waisted and cheeky, outlining firm muscles even where they hid her ass. Her hair shone brilliantly, and her tanned skin glowed. Thank God she'd asked Shelby to help her with sunscreen, not me.
My swimsuit was a two piece, too, but far more conservative, with a demi-cup top and full coverage bottoms. I'd like to say that I'd chosen to eschew my usual black for the more jolly royal blue, but in truth it was the only swimsuit I owned.
I tried watching Jenna for a while from behind my sunglasses, to acclimate myself to the sight. It didn't help. I kept my glasses pointing a few degrees away from her, hoping that masked the constant glances I gave her.
If it worked at all, my subterfuge didn't survive launching the boat. When we were floating away from the dock, Jenna bent over to pick up a bottled water from the built-in cooler. I couldn't help notice the contours of the swimsuit as it tightly hugged her butt. She turned unexpectedly to ask if I wanted one, catching me staring at her. Her eyebrows rose, then she brought the water back, sitting next to me on the bench seat, though there was plenty of room on the far side.
Leaning close, so that Shelby and Daniel wouldn't hear her over the burbling motor, she asked, "Were you checking me out?"
"I was just..." I floundered. "Umm, just... wondering how you have so many muscles!" I finally managed.
In truth, I'd noticed her muscles before now. Her arms, legs and abs were lean, but well-defined.
"I think everyone has the same number," Jenna teased.
"You know what I mean!" I pointed to her chest, realized that wasn't a great idea, and lowered my finger a little. "I guess you work out a lot?"
Jenna leaned back. "Spend all day lugging around potting soil and ceramic garden planters and see what happens to your muscles," she said. "A bag of cow manure is fifty pounds."
"Cow manure? You sell cow manure?"
"You have to move those bags especially carefully," she said. "No one cares if a bag of sphagnum moss leaks a little from a tear, but pour cow manure on the back seat of a Lexus and your boss won't be happy with you."
"I imagine," I said, with a laugh. "Has that happened to you?"
"It was a very small tear," she said, "and to be fair, I did recommend that he clear space in the trunk."
"I guess working there accounts for your tan, too," I said.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Since I'm usually outside, I can get away with wearing a tank and shorts. But I stay pale around here," she said, running her finger over the lighter skin of her belly, drawing my eyes down, before peeling back the side of her bikini top by half an inch.
"Okay, now you're just fucking with me," I said, as she smirked. "Yeah, I admit it. You caught me checking you out. Finding women's bodies attractive is in my nature. I can't help it."
"You're fine," she said, letting her bikini snap back into place. "I feel flattered."
"I know, I know," I said, with a melodramatic sigh. "Look but don't touch."
Jenna took the first turn at skiing, demonstrating how to sit in the water and hold the rope, leaning back to let the tow lift her as Daniel applied a little power and the boat started to move. Once she was up, he added some speed, and Jenna slipped from side to side, bouncing over the boat's wake, clearly having fun.
Daniel assured me that I didn't need to try anything like that, just getting up and hanging on was great for a first time. When Jenna signaled that she was ready to let another take a turn, he killed the throttle and let the boat drift to a halt.
Jenna returned and helped me fasten the skis, then joined me in the water to help position me. Her hands on my waist were more distracting than helpful, but I understood what I needed to do, and she swam off. Once she was in the boat, Daniel moved it forward slowly, until he'd taken up the slack, then a little more forcefully as I struggled to stay in position and let the tension lift me onto the skis.
Too nervous and unsteady on my legs to do more than let the boat drag me in a straight line, I still was having a blast. I couldn't completely avoid the wake, and the first time I crossed it, I didn't have any problems beyond feeling my arms being jarred by the vibrations, but the second time I lost my balance and went down to a mouthful of lake water.
Jenna was beside me in a moment, helping me back to the boat and out of the skis, but I was ready to try again when my turn next came around.
Before we brought the boat back to shore, we helped ourselves to the beer in the cooler, relaxing as Shelby drove us around the lake.
The next few weeks brought a steady increase in responsibility at work. Construction was proceeding well, but a few minor glitches affected the schedule. The best insurance rates were from a company whose primary business was insuring gun ranges, gun shows and firearms dealers, which didn't at all make it a company I wanted to do business with, but I was in the real world now, and costs mattered more than my political preferences.
With Shelby's help, but primarily on my own initiative, I put together party packages and promotional event pricing for the weeks after our planned opening in early November. I was delighted to find that a wide range of groups were interested in axe-throwing parties, including bridal groups, and I soon had contacts with area wedding planners.
I declined one request to have male strippers as a party attraction. I didn't think drunk women with sharp edged weapons belonged around near-naked men, and I was sure the insurance company would agree, though Jenna thought the idea could be a crowd pleaser when I told her about it in texts.
The Kia was delivered to its final resting place when I put a down payment on a Subaru Outback. No more worrying each time I drove that this would be the time I was left stranded.
We needed training. More to the point, we needed to have our own trainers, and as yet we didn't have staff. So recruiting became a priority, and with Shelby's blessing I set up a visit for me to meet with the management of an established bar to confirm what our next steps were.
In late August, Shelby and Daniel took Jenna and me out on their boat again, for what was likely the final water skiing trip of the year, since by the time our schedule cleared up it would be too cold.
No longer a beginner, I stayed upright the entire time at a higher speed than before, and enjoyed myself immensely. Of course, I also enjoyed ogling Jenna in her bikini just as much as the first time. More, since there was no longer any point in hiding it from her.
I mentioned my upcoming business trip to Jenna.
"It's a four hour drive," I said, "but the new car has been good around town. I'm looking forward to seeing how it is on a longer journey."
"Do you want company?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, immediately. "But it's an overnight trip. I'll be at the bar all evening."
"What days?" she asked. "I might have to trade shifts, but a couple of the guys owe me favors."
"Leaving Friday, returning Saturday," I said. "And I recall that the reservation has two queens, so there'll be no awkward bed sharing. Though I'm sure Shelby would let me expense a second room."
"We'll be fine," she said.
"We'll be fine," I agreed, "as long as your sleepwear hides more than your swimsuit does."
Jenna grinned.
It was so good to be able to drive in comfort and confidence. The Subaru purred smoothly along the highway after we left town.
Sensing Jenna's eyes on me, I glanced right, then asked, "What?"
"Did you not have time to put your armor on before leaving?" she asked.
"What?" I repeated, indignantly.
"You've barely touched your eyeshadow this morning," she said. "And what's that lip color? Rose? What happened to dark fuchsia?"
"It's burgundy," I objected. "Not fuschia, I mean. Yeah, today it's rose. Why did you say armor?"
"You like to keep people at a distance, don't you?" Jenna asked. "You're not as gloomy as you portray. Don't get me wrong, you always look great, but I think you choose your appearance to protect yourself."
"Do you practice your amateur psychology on your plants?" I asked.
"Of course I do. If I try it on people, they argue."
We'd traveled another mile or two before I replied. "You may not be wrong," I said. "Except that I am gloomy. Not depressive. I just see enough of the world not to be able to be very upbeat. I have no illusions. It's the rose-tinted glasses wearers who aren't in touch with reality."
"Like me?" Jenna asked.
"If you were in that number you wouldn't keep finding fault with boyfriends," I said. "You want things to be positive, but you're not delusional enough to pretend they are when you can see they're not. We're not as different as you seem to want to believe."
"Which is what you want to believe," Jenna said, but she seemed to have moved from lightly mocking to amused.
"Yeah, I really want to believe I'm like you," I said, matching her tone. "But I'm meeting these guys for the first time, and I'm meeting them for business. I can wear a mask."
When I glanced across at her she was grinning. "You wear it well."
I thanked her grudgingly, though in truth I was pleased at how she felt familiar enough with me to offer criticism.
The drive was closer to six hours including restroom breaks and one stop that Jenna wanted to make on the far side of the interstate mountain pass to look at the view, but we arrived in plenty of time to do some sightseeing downtown before my appointment, so after we'd checked into the hotel - yes, two beds - she and I wandered around the waterfront.
The owner of the bar, Aaron, whom we were here to see, was polite and helpful. The Axe's Head, on the other side of the mountains, was no competition, and there could even be mutual promotion opportunities. He suggested a friendly rivalry between the two businesses, where we'd hold two challenges a year between the venues, one here and one at Shelby's place.
We learned about leagues and a bar near us that I hadn't been aware of. Then he introduced us to a trainer and a couple of coaches. The trainer, Christian, was around six one, with golden hair and a thick but well-trimmed beard. One of the coaches, Kate, who tended bar when she wasn't coaching parties, had clearly marked me as a fellow lesbian, and seemed to like what she saw.
Jenna was only with me out of personal interest, not professional, so when Aaron and I headed to a back room to talk financial and planning details, she headed for the lounge with Christian, Kate, and the other coach, Davis, a dark-haired slender twenty-something guy. Davis brought Aaron and me beer to ease our dry conversation.
We talked about arrangements for parties, weddings, catering, the costs and benefits of training our own trainers and coaches. Where we could send the candidates Shelby found to learn how to train others. He suggested we send someone to spend a week at his facility, and that he could send us a coach for our opening week if we'd cover their salary and board.
When we were done, I needed another drink. Aaron wished me luck as I shook his hand and headed to the lounge to find the rest of my party, where it seemed my day's negotiations weren't over. While Christian was monopolizing Jenna's attention, and making it clear he'd like to spend some private time with her, Davis and Kate, more distanced from their conversation, were competing for my interest. As a result, neither Jenna nor I had to buy our own drinks all evening.
I did learn something else for our planning. All three staff claimed we needed a good selection of craft beers. The intersection of beer fans and axe-throwing aficionados was high. I knew that Shelby had two local canned craft beers for the arcade, but had none on tap. We could get additional products and add craft beer to the taps when we merged the bars. I knew of a pub that had a very wide range of craft beers, and perhaps I should contact them next week for advice.
By eleven, I was woozy. Kate was making it clear that I'd be welcome to spend the night at her place. Davis was a little less direct, but he hadn't picked up on my lack of interest in men.
I just wanted to sleep, so I announced that I was heading to the hotel. I didn't ask Jenna if she was ready; if she wanted to spend more time with Christian I wasn't going to get in her way. I could collect her in the morning, if it came to that. But she stood and said she'd come with me. Neither of us was very steady on our feet, but the hotel was a short distance, and we declined the offers to walk with us.
"I wasn't sure if you wanted to party with Eric the Red," I said, after I'd changed into my tee shirt and shorts.
"He did have a Viking look, didn't he?" Jenna agreed, pausing on her way to the bathroom, sleepwear in hand. "But I thought you'd be heading home with Kate."
"I wasn't sure you'd pick up on that, being straight," I said.
"Pick up on it?" Jenna smirked. "I thought she was going to duel Davis over you. Pistols at dawn."
"Axes, probably," I commented. "Axes at thirty paces."
"That sounds dangerous to everyone," she said, then headed into the bathroom.
In the morning I spent a few minutes replacing my "armor," as Jenna called it, darkening my eyes and lips. Jenna was sitting on her bed, packed and ready to leave, when I emerged from the bathroom. Her eyes dropped to my chest. I was wearing my black tee shirt that had skeleton hands over my breasts. She grinned, then I guess she realized where she was looking, and raised her eyes.
Apparently finding the need to say something after staring at my chest, she said, "You really shouldn't hide your eyes. You have very pretty eyes." Her cheeks colored slightly, as if she hadn't intended to say that.
"You think so?" I asked, retrieving my jacket and slipping it on.
"They're, like, pure gray," she said. "They're unusual."
"Yeah, gray eyes are pretty rare," I agreed. It was something I'd looked into. Jenna hadn't been the first to comment. "Even gray eyes are usually pale blue or green in some lights, but mine seem to have no real hue."
We spent the day downtown. There were some great tourist sites, and a few stores that were different from anything we had at home. We ate a late lunch on the waterfront, figuring that we'd be fine with snacks on the drive home.
"You really weren't tempted by Kate last night?" Jenna asked, over coffee. "I thought she was cute. Did you get her number?"
I shook my head. "If I was into one night stands, I'd still be a regular at Gabby's," I said.
"Maybe she'd want more?" Jenna suggested.
"I don't think so," I said. "The look she was giving me was more 'let's get naked' than 'let's get to know each other'. Did you get Erik's number?"
"I did," she replied, her hand moving automatically toward her phone. "You're horrible, though, you know? I don't think I'll ever be able to think of him as Christian." She sighed. "Doesn't matter, though, I won't be seeing him again if dating him is a six hour drive."
We decided to head home a little before five, which was a mistake because of the insane traffic. I wasn't used to that kind of volume. At least I'd had the car long enough to have figured out how to use the adaptive cruise control, which took a lot of the pain out of the stop and go traffic. My Kia hadn't had features like that.
"You're proud of this car, aren't you?" Jenna had reclined her seat and was leaning back with her eyes closed, trying to ignore the frustrating traffic.
I couldn't help smiling. "I've never had a new car before. Yeah, I am."
"Good. You can be my chauffeur," she said.
"Sure, I'll do that," I said. Then a moment later, "Hey, wait. I'm not driving you six hours to see Erik the Red."
"You could visit Kate, too!" she said.
"I told you, Kate wouldn't have any use for me after one night," I said.
"Then she's an idiot!" Jenna exclaimed. "And you can add in all the girls at that club you go to. They're all idiots."
"That... might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," I said, drily, but her comment warmed me anyway. "But you're not really being fair. Casual hookups are fine. It's just that I'd like to find someone to get close to, and not have to learn what a new girl likes every week."
From the corner of my eye I saw Jenna's head turn. When I glanced right she was watching me with both eyes open, an amused grin on her face. "A new girl every week?"
"No!" I said, emphatically. "Some do, I guess, but... I'm not exactly extroverted. I like meeting new people, but I get overwhelmed, and it takes time to recharge. More so, when it comes to... well, you know..." I trailed off, hoping she wouldn't make me spell it out. And some of the more demanding encounters... I didn't want to talk about them, but they took even longer to recover from. After a couple of years of Val's not-so-gentle persuasion, I'd finally agreed to go home with her, to find that she pushed boundaries I didn't even know I had. It wasn't a bad experience, but it was weeks before I could consider accepting anyone else's invitation.
Jenna slumped back into the reclined seat, closing her eyes again, a slight grin on her face. "It's okay," she said, "I'm done prying." A moment later I heard her murmur, "One a week? Who'd have thought?"
When we were finally traveling at highway speeds, she sat up and stretched. I glanced at her, short hair tousled now, tee shirt wrinkled over her breasts, those breasts I'd seen framed by neon green fabric, and could so easily picture. I wished again she wasn't straight.
The rest of the drive was uneventful. I dropped Jenna at her place around eleven thirty.
Preparations for The Axe's Head continued when I returned to work. After talking to Shelby I contacted a local bar that served a wide range of craft beer. Jenna offered to assist with the learning process, and Shelby agreed to fund our evening's research. So we spent an evening becoming familiar with the mechanics of keeping, selling and selecting beers under the tutelage of a bartender who also kept us supplied with samples.
I made notes on my phone about the beers and brands I preferred, but as time passed I found the device increasingly hard to use.
"I swear the alphabet buttons are smaller than they were," I said.
"It's because you're drinking," Jenna argued. "When you drink, your fingers get wider. Known fact."
"That must be it," I agreed.
Fortunately we'd arrived by Uber and would be leaving by Uber.
The area's annual area renfaire took place in early October. I had made a point of being there for several years, and even had a costume that I'd put together. But the friends I'd always attended with were distributed around the country now, and I hated to visit alone.
I'd stayed in touch with Jenna, and I couldn't really think of anyone else I'd like to invite to go with me, but I was reluctant to ask her. I thought it would sound like I was asking her on a date. But after more consideration, I decided to risk it. She was fun to be around. She could always say no, right?
Me: "You know about the renfaire?"
Jenna: "Yes! I'm going with my friends. Saturday tickets. Want to join us?"
Me: "Sure! You dressing up?"
Jenna: "We all are. Are you offering to be my chauffeur?"
Me: "Why not? I'll pick you up or you can leave your car at my place."
Jenna decided to drive to my apartment since I'd be traveling in the wrong direction if I picked her up. When I met her in the parking lot, she was wearing a beige off the shoulder gown with a forest green lace-front overdress, carrying a bundle that looked like it was probably a cloak.
My top let in too much of the chill air. I had a swallowtail coat in the car, along with my hat and boots, but it wasn't comfortable to drive in, so I zipped a thick jacket over the top. I hoped that the day warmed up soon.
My black skirt was fake leather, with a high front, extending below the knees at the back, and a wide asymmetrical belt. I noticed Jenna giving it a curious look. "For a straight girl, you seem to like looking at my legs," I said.
She grinned. "I'm trying to imagine what your costume is under your jacket."
"It's nothing special," I said. "I'm a pirate."
Since the car was warming up, at the next light I unzipped my jacket. Jenna moved forward in the passenger seat to see my shirt. It was black fake leather, laced at the front. I'm honestly not sure if it would be classed as a corset, a bustier, or a bodice. It was short, leaving a couple of inch gap above the skirt. It mostly covered my breasts, exposing only about an inch at the top. Almost modest, except that I wore it without a shirt or bra, and the lace gap at the front was about two inches wide.
"Well, it's definitely your color," Jenna said. "Though I guess black does suit a pirate."
At the faire, I opened the trunk, trading my sensible driving shoes for black calf boots with enough of a heel that I was of a height with Jenna, then tossed my tricorne hat onto my head at what I hoped was a jaunty angle, and retrieved my coat. It was more of a steampunk outfit than anything historically accurate, but likely none of the pirate costumes here today could be considered accurate. I shoved my 3D-printed cutlass through my belt, then began to tie it in place with twine to satisfy the peace bond - the faire officials might add their own ties, but at least it would look legitimate.
Tying the knot at my side was awkward, so I asked Jenna to finish it off. As she re-threaded the twine, I tugged the laces of my top around until it was snug and comfortable. Checking Jenna's progress, I saw she had a frown on her face, but she just shook her head when I asked if there was a problem.
When we were done, I donned the coat, and we headed into the faire.
Jenna and I explored some of the booths and checked out event times until she received a text.
"Nice sixteenth-century cellphone," I said.
"Don't you snark," she replied. "I saw you put yours into the pouch on your skirt."
"I did," I admitted. "You know, I wish all skirts had a pouch like this."
"There's certainly no room for pockets in that top," she said.
"Does your dress have pockets?" I asked.
"It does!" she responded, proudly, slipping the phone back into one. "That was Abby. Shall we go meet my friends?"
"Sure," I said, and followed her to where she'd agreed to meet them.
All of Jenna's friends were dressed in garb not too different from Jenna's. Abby's top - I knew it was Abby, because she was the first woman that Jenna greeted - was lower, revealing a hint of cleavage, and while Paige and Megan both wore peasant blouses that only exposed their shoulders, Janet had gone full tavern wench, with a ruffled shirt that left the upper half of her breasts completely exposed, lifted high by a front-buttoned bodice. I wished she and Jenna had each other's outfit, but I smiled politely at her, only to have her tug the shawl she had resting on her shoulders over her exposed chest. I turned away, catching Jenna's annoyed look at Janet.
Abby had marked up a schedule with what she wanted to see, so I stayed with the group for about ninety minutes, rushing from stage to stage. After the end of one performance, I heard Janet say something that sounded like, "If she wasn't wearing the hat you'd think she was a courtesan," followed by Paige (I think) shushing her angrily. At that point I dragged Jenna aside and told her I was going to spend the remainder of the day away from her friends.
She immediately understood why. "You shouldn't let her spoil your afternoon with her bitterness."
"It's not my afternoon I care about," I said. "Your friends have to suffer her. They'll have a more pleasant time if she isn't griping. We can arrange to meet later for the trip home."
She thought about that for a while, then nodded, with obvious reluctance. "Okay, but I'm coming with you. I don't need to stay with Abby's timetable." She turned and waved once to the group, then tucked her hand into my elbow as we left them behind, probably to annoy Janet.
The remainder of the day was much more relaxing. We caught several performers and a number of faire vendors. Eventually I took my coat off and draped it over my shoulders, but kept my hat in place.
Occasionally I'd catch Jenna giving me a strange look.
"What is it?" I asked. "Was Janet right? Am I dressed like a whore?"
"Not at all," Jenna responded. "Is that what she said? It's bull." Her eyes didn't meet mine, though.
"She said courtesan," I said. But why was Jenna dissembling? Was it true? I didn't see how, but Jenna was usually open with me to the point of bluntness.
We saw more performances, including a very funny all-female troupe of comedic singers. Both of us laughed our asses off. Again, though, when the performance was done, Jenna seemed slightly preoccupied. Not exactly distant, but without the easy camaraderie she and I usually shared.
"There's definitely something up," I said, "and I think you do think I'm dressed like a whore. You seem embarrassed by me."
"I'm not," she said, "and I really don't think you are. It's just..." She shook her head. "I'll tell you later, when we're not surrounded by people. I actually love your costume."
Jenna having something to tell me later didn't ease my concern much, but she didn't seem to dislike being around me, so I let it pass until we'd left the faire grounds and were heading back to the car, both of us with a couple of small purchases. "So, what's going on, Jenna?" I asked.
She didn't try to pretend she didn't know what I meant, but she frowned in thought until we were almost at the car. Finally she said, "You were honest with me, that day when you were ogling me on the boat. You admitted that you were checking me out."
"After you bullied me into the confession," I said, with a laugh.
"Yeah, but you did confess. I guess I owe you the truth in return," she said. "I've been having these... intrusive thoughts all day. Since I saw you in the lace-up crop top. I keep thinking..."
She paused again, for a long time. We arrived at the car, but I didn't unlock it. I didn't want to interrupt the flow of her thoughts.
When she finally began to speak, the words came out in a rush. "I keep thinking about how much fun it could be to pull out the bow and loosen the laces." Her face was a little rosy, and she wouldn't meet my eyes again. "When I look at you I see the string, and the thought intrudes again. I don't know where it's coming from. I don't know why it gives me a little thrill each time."
"I see," I said. "I don't know what to do with that."
Jenna shook her head. "Neither do I."
"Is that why Janet called me a whore?" I asked, as we were driving away from the faire. "I know the laced front without a shirt may be a little racy, but that's normal here. It's less revealing than your friend Abby's top, never mind what Janet herself is flaunting."
"I think you could have worn a nun's habit, and she'd have found something to complain about," Jenna replied. "It's not you, it's her, and we're going to have to do something about her if she doesn't change her behavior."
We didn't speak about Jenna's unexpected obsession on the drive home. We didn't say much of anything after that brief conversation, except when she read her texts and announced that Abby had apologized for us being driven away.
When we reached my apartment, Jenna took out her keys.
I shook my head. "No, come in for a moment," I said. "Put your things in your car first, if you like, but then come in."
"Okay," she said, seeming apprehensive.
When we were inside, I stood before her. "Try it," I instructed.
"Try what?"
"Unfasten the bow. Unlace a few of the eyeholes. See if it gives you the kind of thrill you were imagining."
Jenna's face colored. "Fi, I don't think..."
"You'll never know if you don't try," I insisted. "To tell the truth, I'm invested in the outcome, too. I'd like to know what's going on."
Jenna shook her head, but then, as if her body was betraying her, she reached out and tugged on the knot until both sides came free. She stared at the ends of the lace in her hands, but I saw her eyes flick around, too.
"Pull it through the next hole," I commanded. "Do two or three of them, at least."
Jenna nodded, dumbly, then eased the lace back through the lowest holes. When it was done, I pulled the front of the top apart by a little, loosening it all the way up, until most of the newly freed lace was taken up into the slack.
"A few more," I told her. "How does that make you feel?" I asked, as she teased out more of the lace.
"Nervous," she said, her voice hoarse. "But yeah, like it would be interesting to do just a couple more."
I drew the sides apart again, slipping my fingers inside the lace at the mid point to balance the gap over its length. Then I parted the base of the top until the lace pulled through another couple of holes.
Jenna's eyes widened.
"Your turn," I said. "Just a few more holes."
She was trying to mask the sound of her breathing as she unthreaded three more holes, but her eyes, when she glanced upward, were dark. She had to know what was happening to her, but I wasn't going to force her to acknowledge it. I took her hands in mine, enclosing her fingers with mine. "That's enough," I breathed.
"Yeah," she agreed, softly. She stood where she was for several moments, then said, "I've gotta go."
She turned to leave, pulling her hands free, but I said, "Jenna?" and she turned back to face me.
I moved close, taking the tips of her fingers between mine again. "Thank you for today," I said.
Jenna smiled nervously and nodded. Before she could turn again, I released her fingers and rested mine on her jaw. Leaning in, I pressed my lips to her upper lip, gently sucking on it. For about ten seconds I caressed her lip with both of mine, then drew back.
Freed from the spell she seemed to be under, Jenna bolted.
Halloween follows closely behind the ren faire every year. It's annoying. It's also the reason I put together my one and only ren faire outfit. I can work on my Halloween costume without having to take the time out to plan for the faire. Recently I've been dressing as anime characters. I don't take Halloween as seriously as real cosplayers, but I do like my costume to be fairly accurate.
This year I'd put in a little extra effort by working with Clare on a costume together. We would dress as Utena and Anthy from Revolutionary Girl Utena. In the anime, Anthy is dark-skinned, but Clare and I decided to invert roles, with her wearing Utena's pink wig, navy jacket with epaulets and microshorts, and me coloring my hair purple and wearing Anthy's round glasses and full rose bride skirts. I turned my eyes green with contacts, too.
The party was at Gabby's, but unlike the one two years earlier where I'd embarrassed myself by pursuing a player, this wasn't on a Monday, so it would be twenty-one plus.
My text messages with Jenna had almost dried up. I was feeling guilty over playing games with her apparent attraction to my body, and over kissing her. Even if Jenna had an urge to undress me, she was still straight. She was aware that I was attracted to her, of course, but I hadn't given her any reason to think it would get in the way of our friendship, until my stupid stupid charade after the faire.
I thought about inviting her to the Gabby's Halloween party, but that would seem even more like a date invitation after the kiss, the very opposite of making amends, so I decided against it. I was relieved to learn that she'd be spending the evening with her friends.
Clare was one of the few close friends I had left after the graduation exodus, and it was the fact that we'd both still be here that had prompted us months earlier to plan to dress as a duo. She met me outside the club, so that we could enter arm-in-arm.
It had been a few months since I'd visited Gabby's, and even though it wasn't the eighteen-plus crowd, and there was alcohol at the bar, I found myself relaxing in the familiar atmosphere. Knowing I could be who I was, and no one would react as Jenna's friend Janet had done, made a difference. I was among my own people, even if I didn't know many of them.
Kayla, my unwilling target of two years earlier, dressed as Sylvie from the Loki show, with a shorter Loki beside her, complimented Clare and me on our costumes. I gave her my phone, asking her to take a few photos of the two of us together. Since Jenna knew Clare, too, I texted her the photos, getting a heart and a thumbs-up before she replied with a message.
Jenna: "I don't know who you're supposed to be, but you both look great."
Me: "Utena and Anthy, one of the famed anime non-couples."
Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed again.
Jenna: "Are you and Clare dating?"
Me: "No! We're friends!"
Jenna: "Friends or 'friends'? You've told me about that club."
Me: "Just friends."
Being among my own people may have been comforting, but I'd had no intention to go home with anyone, and that was the goal of many of the patrons present. I didn't want to be led into a poor decision by alcohol. Recognizing Michelle, the blonde tattooed bartender from Gabby's 18-plus dances, I knew that the bar would have quality non-alcoholic drinks, so after a couple of cocktails I switched to these.
Not intending to leave with a woman wasn't quite the same as being committed to leaving alone, though, and there was more than one woman who clearly wanted to change my mind. Perhaps Anthy's ultra-femme outfit fed some women's fantasies, whether or not they knew the show. Perhaps it was the idea of luring me away from my "partner," Clare. Or perhaps it was simply that I was known for being picky in accepting invitations. I knew that my reluctance to hook up had spurred some girls to try harder in the past. But whatever the reason, more than one woman was trying to tempt me with drink and dirty dancing.
And it had been months since I'd been with a girl. I might feel the need to recharge after sex with a relative stranger, and I might want the opportunity to spend more than a couple of hours in bed with a woman, but my libido wasn't dormant. My resistance to seduction was crumbling.
Tweaking Jenna's feelings of arousal and kissing her hadn't diminished my crush on her, but it had quickened my need for intimacy, and my resolve to remain alone seemed increasingly pointless. Especially as straight Jenna wouldn't be meeting those needs.
Velma had the expected heavy glasses, dark red hair and visually accurate clothing colors, but the crop top tied below her breasts framed a delicious view, and she watched me over the top of her glasses, her cheeks dimpling with a smile. I'd seen her before at the club, but never spent time with her. I thought her real name was Sierra, but I wouldn't betray my uncertainty if I just called her Velma.
She read my interest, and had begun to make her way to me, when my pocket buzzed. I took out my phone to find a photo of Jenna dressed as a chef, carrying a knife, with what looked like blood spatters all over her outfit and hat. I grinned.
Velma moved in close and peered at the photo on my phone. "Girlfriend?" she asked.
I shook my head. "She's straight."
"What a waste," she said. "But good news for me, I think."
"I'm in the habit of making bad decisions on Halloween," I informed her. "Would dancing with you be a bad decision?"
"Nuh-uh," she said. "Which means you can save this year's bad decision for my bedroom."
The spike of arousal confirmed that she'd pushed the right buttons, and I'd likely be ending - or at least pausing - my months-long regimen of celibacy.
When we left together, I was no more than a little tipsy, but Velma was sober, since she'd brought her car.
"Where's the Mystery Machine?" I griped, at seeing her Mini.
"Shaggy's using it today," she said. "I don't like to drive it. I have to leave the windows open to air out the smell of weed."
There's something deliciously wanton about fully-clothed sex - maybe especially when the clothing turns your partner into a teen fantasy crush.
But when you've dry humped to mutual satisfaction, and she removes her red wig, revealing short hair almost an identical blonde to your real life crush, it's jarring.
Fortunately, naked Velma didn't remind me of Jenna in any other way, and when I left, I admitted that I didn't think I'd made a bad decision.
"Glad to hear it," she said. "See you around, Anthy."
I realized I'd never given her my name, either. It wasn't important. "You too, Velma."
I made it to work on time, though with a mild headache and eyes that felt dry. I hadn't replied to Jenna's photo text from the previous night.
Me: "Is that animal blood or human blood?"
It was a moment before I received a reply.
Jenna: "Don't pretend you haven't always wanted me to say this, but study my boobs."
I pinch-zoomed into the photo. There was a red handprint on her left breast.
Me: "I see. Should I be scared?" Jenna: "Maybe..."