Lemming Meet Cliff

Jenna stood by the edge of the packed dance floor scanning the crowd for the woman from last week. The blonde with the laughing eyes, dimpled cheeks and warm smile. The one who had danced with carefree abandonment. The one who’d mesmerized. Jenna had ached to speak with her but couldn’t muster the courage to do so. Instead she spent the past week daydreaming about meeting the woman, having dinner, or sharing a cup of coffee, discovering what she loved, what made her sad. Thursday night was particularly satisfying because Jenna dreamed about her, launching a new set of daytime fantasies. 

A tap on the shoulder distracted her from the mission at hand.

“Hey girl.” Her best friend, Maggie, gently hip checked her. “What are you looking at? Or should I say, who are you looking for?” A comical wiggle of eyebrows followed.

“Nothing. No one.”

“How’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just dating.”

Maggie nodded. “You dating the redhead too?”

Jenna snuck a peek at the table she had recently vacated. Lauren, her date, was holding court with a bevy of beautiful women. The most attractive of the bunch, the redhead in question, had an arm around Lauren and lush lips glued to her ear. Lauren’s hand rested on the woman’s thigh.

“Seriously dude. What is she doing?” Maggie asked.

“Flirting I guess.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Jenna shrugged. “Lauren believes in open relationships.”

“And you agreed to that?”

Another shrug followed, accompanied by a nod. “I think she may have mentioned it while we were having sex.”

“Jesus Christ. When I told you to get out of your comfort zone and go meet people, I didn’t expect this.”   

Jenna’s comfort zone was…comfortable. She craved quiet evenings, curled up with a book. She loved a hike in the woods. She could lose herself in a puzzle for hours. But since she’d be alone for almost a year, her bestie prodded her to change it up. Throw the curve instead of the fastball.

So when Lauren flirted with her last month, Jenna flirted right back. She flirted herself right into a one-night stand. A first in her long list of soon-to-be new sexual firsts that included: earth-shattering orgasms, interesting toys, and Twister-like positions. Jenna pulled a muscle the first night but had since started a rigorous stretching routine because the one-night stand morphed into two nights, then three, and before she knew it, a month had gone by. And she was a lot more limber. “You said, and I quote, ‘You need to get to laid.’” Jenna tipped her beer bottle back and drained it for emphasis.

“I did. Yes. But I didn’t think you’d end up with Lauren the Lothario.”

“Well, go big or go home. Right?”

Lauren’s reputation was well known within the claustrophobic lesbian circles of Philly. She had a magnetic personality, the kind you read about in romance novels. Her aura sucked you in, like the backside of an oscillating fan. Her killer smile made your knees wobble. Yes, women were drawn to her, like lemmings to a cliff. Although lemmings committing suicide was a myth. And how did Jenna know that? Because it was on the Nat Geo channel last year. And the fact that she watched the Nat Geo channel by herself was precisely the reason she was drawn to Lauren the Lothario, she of the auburn tresses and kissable lips. It was the ultimate out pitch. The slider in the dirt. Jesus Christ. I need to stop watching so much baseball. Maybe she should stick to the lemming metaphor.

“I think your bed’s gonna be crowded tonight,” Maggie said.

Jenna glanced over. Lauren and Red were engaged in some heavy lip locking. An image of countless women blindly following Lauren over a cliff made her pause. Was she one of those lemmings? Would she blindly jump off a cliff for a woman?

She suddenly yearned to be home, nestled on the couch, watching the story of the arctic tern, a tiny seabird who flew 24,000 miles a year. Jenna had her adventure, but it was time to get her feet back on terra firma. Open relationships weren’t her thing. Exciting? Yes. For a little while, but Jenna craved the intimacy of a committed relationship. Miss Right existed; Jenna just needed to find her.

She turned back to the crowd and the depressing evening brightened.

There she was. Clad in a comfy-looking worn T-shirt and faded jeans, looking wholesome and oh so beautiful, surrounded by friends while gyrating to the thumping bass pumping from the speakers. The flashing lights paled in comparison to her smile. Someone whispered in her ear and she laughed. A stab of envy pierced Jenna’s heart. What would that laugh sound like? Would it be musical? Would it sound joyous? Maybe she snorted when she laughed. Which would be all sorts of adorable. 

So here Jenna was again, staring and aching, and ill prepared for what came next. Her stare was returned. Her heart hiccupped, and she hoped it didn’t stop beating, because collapsing on the floor in the middle of a crowded bar would be a tad embarrassing. Although if a certain someone resuscitated her, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. A soft smile played on the blonde’s lips and Jenna had to stop herself from turning and making sure the smile was meant for her. Someone danced into her line of vision, breaking their tenuous connection, and Jenna’s shoulders slumped.

The pulsating beat slowed, and the clientele on the dance floor changed. Couples melded together and swayed to the love song while singles went in search of alcohol. Jenna lost sight of her crush and a moan gurgled up from her throat. Please don’t leave.

Maggie tugged her arm. “I gotta go pee.”

“Okay. I’m going to the bar. Do you need anything?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

Jenna navigated through the throng of women and squeezed her way towards the bar. The two barkeeps were bustling about filling drink orders. On such a crowded night, you’d think there would be more bartenders. Didn’t they know she had stalking to do? After a minute, her frantic waving was answered, and she ordered a beer. She slapped a few bills onto the bar and spun around, bumping into someone and spilling beer all over them. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Shit, I’m sorry too. I didn’t even see you there.”

Jenna grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins from the bar and blotted the other woman’s shirt, clueless to the fact that she was touching her breasts until she brushed a nipple. She froze. Heat poured into her cheeks as the woman gently grabbed her wayward hand. Jenna stole a furtive glance at the woman and swallowed thickly.

“I got it, thanks.” Warm, blue eyes crinkled at the corners. The dimples were much more attractive up close.

Jenna nibbled on her bottom lip. “Um, sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t mean to, ah, touch you…” Great. I just groped the woman of my dreams.  

“That’s okay.” She winked. “I didn’t mind.”

Holy shit, a wink.

“I’m Andi, by the way.”

“Jenna. Sorry I ruined your shirt.”

“That’s what washing machines are for, right?”

After another beauteous smile, Andi melted back into the crowd, leaving her perfume to linger in the air. Jenna breathed it in. Sunshine. She swore it smelled like sunshine.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lauren beckoning, coat in hand. “Damn it.” She didn’t want to leave now. She scouted the dance floor to no avail. Andi had disappeared. “Damn it!”

She kept searching while heading toward the exit, ignoring Lauren, who droned on and on about the redhead. Before Jenna made it outside, someone clutched her hand and slipped a piece of paper into it. She twirled around.

It was one of Andi’s friends. “My bff is too shy to give you her digits.”

She left Jenna staring after her in a state of disbelief. She gaped at the number while joy percolated throughout her body. Her stomach fluttered and her toes tingled. Her veins thrummed. She filled her lungs with glorious oxygen and exhaled.

Lauren yelled her name, and she shoved the number into her pocket.

Lemming meet cliff.