A Night in San Francisco

A Night in San Francisco: Part III

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Picture it: Denver, 2017. That's a Golden Girls reference. Do people get that? Ugh, aging sucks. Anyway... Denver, the summer of 2017, picture it. 

It's been a little over one year since that fateful night in San Francisco, okay, Oakland. I'm back in my own city, recently single after my first queer relationship. I've scissored, licked pussy and am feeling accomplished AF. One year with no peen, just pure, painless pleasure. Hashtag winning. Things didn't work out with that relationship but it's alright. For the best. 

So on fateful night number two, I'm out with some friends on the first friday of the month. The one night when the local gay clubs transform into a lesbian dream and the gay women in my city come out to drink, dance, play and have nothing but a great time. 

Maybe because I'm newly single, maybe because it's been a long week, or maybe because I was born in New York and have always been loyal to my roots, I quickly run through two Long Island Iced Teas, soon after arriving to this spot. 

I'm feeling good, dancing smack dab in the middle of an epic grind train. I'm usually the woman watching grind trains from the corner of the room while I sip on rum and Malibu, shaking the hell out of my head but tonight is different. Tonight: TWO back-to-back Long Island Ice Teas. I'm getting my groove on with a blonde woman and her friend, a young man that looks to be no more than 21. I ignore that fact and keep grinding because I don't have work tomorrow and fuck it. When the grind train gets too hot, literally and figuratively, I pop my head up, take a breath of any cool air I can find. My eyes scan the club and I'm quickly convinced they are playing tricks on me. Over by the bathroom. I think I see her. It can't be her but my god, it might be her. 

I swoop off of the dance floor and follow this silhouette. Walking towards the bathroom, she turns her head slightly and then I'm sure. Holy shit. It's her. The woman from Oakland. The woman in the green t-shirt.

What the hell is she doing here???

I don't even take time to pinch myself. I see her walk into the bathroom, flashing that same damn smile that changed my life a year ago and I'm right behind her,  slowly following her inside. 

Once inside I don't see her. She must be in a stall already. I fix my hair in the mirror, readjust my boobs and apply some lip gloss. Then, she exits the stall. Stands right next to me and washes her hands. This time, I'm not shy. This time I'm, well, a little bit drunk, and inhibitions are nowhere in sight. 

I turn to her as she dries her hands. 

Excuse me?" I say.

She faces me. She smiles and I attempt not to kiss her then and there.

"Do you live in Oakland?"

Her eyes widen a bit. "I live in northern San Francisco so, yeah, pretty close. How did you...?"

Then the words just flowed, came up and out just as easily as the Long Islands flowed in and down.

"I thought it was you. We met last year at a club in Oakland and, well, I fell in love with you at first sight."

And then it dawns on her. Enlightenment washing over her face. "I remember you."

"You do?"

"Of course, you were so nervous. It was adorable."

I giggle and blush. 

"You cut your hair," I say.

Now it's her turn to blush. "Yeah, I cut it short earlier this year. That's crazy that you remember that."

"I couldn't exactly forget you." My eyes lower a bit. 

"So, love at first sight, huh?" she asks. 

"Okay, not love, but, let's just say, one look at you and my life took a drastic turn... for the better."

"Is that so?"


"But we barely spoke. I figured at the end of the day you weren't interested."

"No, you got it right the first time. Just shy."

"Are you still feeling shy?"

I shake my head no.

"What's your name?" I ask.


I can't help but laugh. "Your name would be Lulu."

She laughs with me, probably fully aware that her name sounds like it came straight out of somebody's fantasy.

She says, "I think we need to commemorate this moment. It's not everyday I have a run-in with such a gorgeous woman, only to meet her once again. Seems a bit serendipitous, no?"

I agree with her.

I ask, "Well how do you think we should commemorate?" 

She leans in close and stops my breath. I swear she'll kiss me. She doesn't. Bypasses my mouth and places her lips next to my ear. "Perhaps we start by exchanging numbers? I'd hate to lose you again."

I MELT but say, "that's quite wise."

We exchange numbers, quickly. I can't help but save her contact info as "Little Lulu". 

"How long are you in Denver?" I ask.

"Just through the weekend. Flew out for a work conference."

"Fuck, she has a job. A job that flies her to conferences. HAWT," I think, but don't say. 

"So, you leave tomorrow?"

"Monday morning."

"Is your schedule full tomorrow?" I ask without a follow-up question ready. 

"I have two meetings, first one's not til 2 though."

I nod my head and she smirks.

"Plenty of time for us to finish up brunch and maybe a walk through your favorite park," she states, not asks.

"Yeah," I breathe, barely over a whisper. "I'd like that. Do you want me to call you in the morning?"

She smiles. Laughs, "No, not in the morning." 

And she kisses me. 

I swear I could cry. 

Her arms wrap around my waist. My arms drape over her shoulders and I inhale her. Our tongues intertwine and we're lost in each other. Surroundings disappear. I hear a faint, "get a room," and happily ignore it. She props me up on the bathroom counter and presses her body against my own, nestled perfectly in between my legs. 

"Let's leave," I say. 

She grabs my hand without hesitation and pulls me towards the exit. I give my friends of the grind train a wink. They wink back. The 21 year old man with his jaw falling on the floor giving me all the "get it girl" he can muster in one look, and we're gone. 

The Lyft ride takes forever. We spend twenty minutes squeezing each other's thighs and tickling each others palms but we finally make it to my home. I thank God I cleaned yesterday but pray I took out the trash. We step inside and I whiff. Trash is out and plug-in air freshener is on high. I forgot about that. Praise Jesus. 

As if she knows my home, she leads me to my own bedroom. I undress her. She undresses me. One scan of her body and again I think I could cry. 

My mouth begins its exploration, careful to cover every nook and cranny. I'm gentle with her and take my time. Who knows what this is, what it will be, if I'll get this chance again. 

She's a bit more forceful and I welcome her aggression. She pulls my hair, bites my neck and pumps her fingers inside my body, forcing moans out of my mouth. I lick those fingers, taste myself and smile, my own hunger growing. 

My tongue bathes in her wetness, a deep sea diver on a maiden voyage, filled with a nervous excitement for the treasures that await.  Her thighs wrap around my neck and begin to shake. I find her spot and drive her insane. My desire proves greater than my inexperience. I treat her clitoris like the gift it is... until I don't. Until I suck it into submission and Lulu comes uncontrollably on my face. I wipe away her juices and a grin, pleased with myself. 

She doesn't give me much time to kiss her tummy and stroke her hair before she's pushing me down on my bed, returning the "favor". Her experience trumps my desire to make the moment last. I can't describe what she did. Words don't suffice. But my body will never forget. Afterwards, I curl up in a ball and for real, for real, try not to cry.

I wonder Who is this woman?

More serendipity creeps in as she asks me, "Who are you?"

I laugh. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I can't believe I saw you again...in a completely different city."

"Tell me about it." 

"Do I still get brunch with you tomorrow?" she asks.

"You get literally whatever the fuck you want."

She laughs and licks her lips, "Oh, is that so?"

I nod my head, fully ready to give her whatever the fuck she wants.

Words aren't needed. We both know what she wants. 

She spreads my legs with her knees and takes it. I hate when people say dumb shit like "it's yours, take it". It feels borderline rapey to me. Like, what if one day it's not yours but you think it's yours and you just take it? Nah, son. But when I tell you this pussy is HERS!!! Hunty chile, listen. It's hers. Jesus help me.

The next day we never make it to brunch. We make love all morning until she has to get back to her hotel room. Has to get ready for her meeting.

"When will I see you again?" she asks.

"Who knows. Probably on another dance floor," I joke.

"How about we don't chance it this time?"

I nod my head and say, "yeah, okay."

Even while currently basking in a fairytale, I struggle to believe in fairytales. Still well aware that this could be nothing more than a fun story for her. 

"I mean it. I want to see you again."

I choose to believe her. 

"Then you will," I say before kissing her for the thousandth time.

We say our goodbyes and she leaves, off to fulfill her original duties. 

As soon as I close my door behind her I call Savannah.

"Girlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. You still plan on visiting your new friends in Cali?"

"Yeah, I'm going next month! Why?"

"Cuz I'm going with you, bitch! Listen to this shit...!"





A Night in San Francisco: Part II

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Now this is where you’d assume I approach her and my life changes forever, right? I spot her. She spots me. All other bodies on the dance floor melt away and we are Tony and Maria from West Side Story, the only living beings in the micro-universe we just created through a mere glance across the dance floor. We walk towards each other in slow motion, refusing to break eye contact, I hold out my hand when I’ve almost reached her and she pulls me in. Tight. We say nothing. I focus on her lips while she licks them. I bite my own. Our eyes meet again until they close in perfect unison and we kiss. Fireworks won’t begin to describe what we feel. Earthquakes, nothing more than slight missteps. Together we are power, our passion burning hotter than the sun’s core.

If only.

It went a little something like this.

Savannah and I make our way inside and head straight to the bar to get our drink on and scope out any potentials for adventure. The bartender asks us if we’d like to try two titty twisters and we naturally say, “yes”.

I spot the woman in the green t-shirt from across the room. She’s dancing with two other women. They look like they’re just friends. Laughing and smiling and dancing but not too closely. Doesn’t look like anyone is boning anyone else in that group. I cross my fingers and down my titty twister before ordering another. I look back at her. Her hips sway from side to side and I curse god for making me human instead of the pair of jeans she’s wearing.

“You’re biting your lip. What’s going on?” Savannah asks.


“Who are you looking at?”

“See that girl in the green t-shirt?”

“The one we met outside?”

“Yeah, her,” I say.

Savannah quickly surveys the situation. I watch her eyes check out the girl in the green t-shirt.

She says, “Okay, okay. I see you. I like it. I support it. You gonna do it?”

“No way,” I say almost laughing.

“What? Why not?”

“Because women are beautiful and terrifying and make me feel like a pubescent boy who hasn’t figured out how to use his dick yet.”

Savannah rolls her eyes. “Bitch, please, let’s go.”

She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the dancefloor.

We know the drill. We do it with men, maybe it works with women too?

We get close to the object of my affection and her group.

Savannah puts on the “come fuck me face”. I put on the “come fuck me” face. We dance together in a way that makes men drop like flies. It’s nothing special. It’s nothing new. It’s just real effective.

She looks at me. She looks at me and I lose “the face”. It’s replaced with fear and nausea. I start to dance off beat. I stop all together, take a breath and then just sway casually, hoping I don’t look as awkward as I feel. Savannah rolls her eyes and abandons me, distracted by a big booty and a smile and heart that doesn't hold the power to break her own. The two of them make a non-verbal agreement and head towards the bar. 

The girl in the green t-shirt walks towards me. My heart stops, falls out of my vagina and runs away. I stand there heartless and dizzy.

“So, you guys made it in,” she says.

Of course, I had to see you is what I want to say. In reality I go with “yep”.

“I’m glad. This place can be fun,” she says, her eyes focusing in on mine.

“Totally,” I say with entirely too much enthusiasm. My heart scurries back across the floor to find me, reenters my body and has a dance party in my chest. “Well, I’m going to go find my friend,” I say like a stupid, scared, pubescent boy who hasn’t figured out how to use his dick yet.

“Oh okay. It was nice to meet you,” she says.

I fumble, "You too, of course."

I make my way back to the bar where Savannah is waiting with an open hand, letting me know she’d love to slap me.

“I know. I know,” I say.

“Here.” Savannah hands me another drink.

"What happened to Big Booty Judy?" I ask. 

Savannah sips her drink, a slick smile creeping across her face. "She's in the bathroom waiting for me."

"Oh, it's going down like that?" I ask.

"Shut up. I'm on vacation. You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be just fine. Enjoy yourself."

She kisses me on the cheek and leaves me.

I spend the rest of the night watching the girl in the green t-shirt from across the room. I dance with a woman who legitimately looks like Lil Wayne in order to get closer to green t-shirt girl, the one I wish I was dancing with. It’s fruitless. My fear wins tonight. The girl in the green t-shirt eventually leaves. Savannah and I leave shortly after.

In the car ride back to the hotel, Savannah tells me about the women she met that night. About the numbers she got and how they’re all going to stay connected on social media. Maybe she’ll come out to hang with them again next summer. I’m half listening to her while I pull out my phone, open my online dating app and change my settings from “straight” to “bisexual”. Closeted curiosity isn't working for me anymore. It was time to put myself out there. Time to explore this other part of me I had tucked away. In my mind, I thank the girl in the green t-shirt.

She was the catalyst. The final straw in my life that pushed me out of my comfort zone and into my truth. I thought that would be the end of it, the end of her involvement in my life. She would be nothing more than the inspiration that led to my next relationship (another story for another day). But boy was I wrong. She’d be back. When I least expected it…

A Night in San Francisco

The story begins in San Francisco because of course it would. Okay, it was technically Oakland because the truth is always a few miles north of the facts of a story. Here's a little story with a little truth. I'll let you decide what's what. 

Oakland, the summer of 2016. I'm on a girls trip with a few friends. There's four of us and for the last two nights we've been drinking, dancing, getting high and chasing gay men in speedos while eating cookies bigger than our heads. We're lit AF. 

On the third night, two of my girls are beat. Let's just say we're not 21 anymore and a game of Go Fish with a glass of wine, face masks and hair bonnets also sounds lit AF to us. Two of them are tired but I'm still wired and ready to party. Luckily, I can always count on my girl, Savannah, to come out and party with me. 

We drop off the sleep sisters at the hotel and head back out on the town in search of...we don't know and we don't care. As long as we find it. 

Crossing back over the bridge to San Fran is too much work. Again, we lit but we're not 21. We decide to see what trouble we can find closer to the hotel in Oakland. 

After a quick google search, we're on our way to a strip of clubs all along one street that I conveniently forgot the name of.

Standing outside one establishment, the blue neon light illuminates our faces and our anxious souls. We're ready to keep the party going. 

Savannah is dressed like God herself in a skin tight red dress with curves that would make you slap your momma. I'm more laid back in booty hugging jeans and a low-cut, black tank top. When my girls come out to play I don't have to put much work in elsewhere. Besides, I'm pretty as hell. Hard labor not required.

Savannah approaches a group of women standing in front of us in line. 

She asks them, "What's the vibe like in here?"

One laughs and the other one says, "It's like a lesbian hip-hop club."

Now Savannah and I both live in different white bread cities void of hip hop clubs or black lesbians so our non-verbal confirmation of "It's go time" is written all over our faces. Neither of us will ever see anything like this at home and we're excited. Savannah is straight and I'm ummm, curiously in the closet? Closet curious? Either way, it doesn't matter, we're here to party and try something new so, we're in. 

I take a look at the woman who tells us what the vibe is like and smile. Tell her, "Thanks, that's all we needed to know."

She smiles at me in return. The pristineness of her teeth throws me off. She has a beautiful smile. I examine the rest of her face and her body and notice she's completely on point from head to toe. She has curly hair, that looks soft to the touch, a natural, like me. She's thin but toned, wears tight jeans and a loose, green t-shirt. She looks comfortable like she has no one to impress. She smells like lavender and she excites my lady parts. 

"God damn it," I think to myself. "I haven't even stepped inside yet."

But when I do... when we all step inside that den of precious sin and I see her start to groove on the dance floor...well, I can't deny it. I fell in love with her right then and there.