Hot and Bothered for The Waitress

Sarah sat across from Bunny at their usual table, wineglass trembling in her grip. Bunny leaned closer. 'I'm fucking Jane,' she said. Just like that. Sarah blinked. A woman. The word rattled around her head with nowhere to land. She had never been with a woman. Never let herself think about it for more than a second at a time. But standing here, well past forty, she felt the thin line that had once divided everything stretch and snap. Life had suddenly felt very short and very unfinished. Twenty years of marriage sat at the back of her throat, heavy as ash. Their waitress drifted close, pretending to check the salt. Mackenzie, tall in black, hair pulled into a severe knot. She liked straight women. The ones who still blushed when another woman's hand drifted too low. She had spent the last three tables imagining how Bunny's wife might taste when her lip gloss finally gave up the ghost. Sarah rose abruptly. 'I need air,' she whispered, and slipped toward the restrooms. The corridor beyond was dim, quiet except for the muffled rush of distant traffic. Mackenzie followed. When Sarah stopped near the supply door, Mackenzie pressed a hand flat to the wall beside her ear and smiled without showing teeth. 'You're curious,' Mackenzie said. 'Let me show you.' Her mouth covered Sarah's before the older woman could answer. Sarah tasted clean skin and spearmint and sudden wet heat. Mackenzie's fingers found the zipper of her slacks, dragged it down, and pushed inside without ceremony. Sarah gasped, hips jerking forward. Two fingers, knuckle-deep, thrust once, then again, the friction slick and merciless. She felt the silky scrape of Mackenzie's blouse against her blouse, the brush of soft breasts, the breath that smelled like gin and something darker. They rocked together against the cold wall, Mackenzie working her open with one hand and pinning her wrist with the other. Sarah came hard and fast, a strangled sound torn from her throat, thighs shaking. When it passed she sagged, forehead against Mackenzie's collarbone, breathing like she'd sprinted miles. Mackenzie withdrew her fingers slowly, wiped them on the hem of Sarah's expensive blouse, and stepped back. 'Back to your table now,' she said, almost gentle. 'No one needs to know.' They returned separately. Sarah's lipstick was a smear across her mouth, her skin hot under the candlelight. Bunny raised an eyebrow. Sarah lifted the wineglass again and drank.