A Night in San Francisco: Part III

san fran.jpeg

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...!"