I looked them over. Danny was right, well, not quite. “Danny said you were hot. She didn’t say molten,” I let out.

They were both wearing low-cut gowns, Alex in black, Joanne a deep red. Each gown had a voluptuous slit, Alex’s in front, Joanne’s revealing her left leg to mid-thigh. Half seen though the slit were dark textured stockings, held in place with garter belts, purple for Alex, black for Joanne.

“What are you trying to do?” I continued. “Cause a riot?”

Alex laughed, Joanne shook her head self-consciously. “Thanks, Micky, I appreciate it, even if Joanne is too shy to admit she does.”

“I am not too shy. I didn’t think anyone would mistake me for a bluestocking in this getup,” Joanne responded.

“It was tough, deciding what to wear. We thought about one of us in a dress and the other in pants, but could never decide on who in what. Butch and femme present such etiquette problems these days. We thought about both wearing suits, but neither of us have one. So we finally came up with this concept,” Alex explained. “High-class Lesbians of the town, plying their avocation.”

“Too bad I’m poor,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. Some desires should not be spoken.

Joanne and Alex looked at each other, then at me.

“Gosh, isn’t it a nice night? I sure hope the weather holds,” I finally said to break the mounting tension.

“Micky,” Joanne said slowly, “have you ever slept with more than one woman?”

“Consecutively or concurrently?” I asked, now aware of a pulse faintly beating between my legs. “What do you think?”

“Your reputation would…” Joanne began.

“That car looks familiar,” Alex broke in.

It did. It was Cordelia’s. Alex started down the porch steps, heading toward the car.

“Did we just have that conversation?” I asked, suddenly embarrassed and flustered.

“Probably not,” Joanne responded. “Blame it on the country air.” She turned and followed Alex.

I hung back, staying on the porch and moving into a shadow. I was discomfited by what had passed, my longings jumbled. I watched Cordelia get out of the car, Alex hugging her after she did. She towered over Alex. Then Joanne embraced her.

Go on, just go on and say hello and get it over with, I told myself. Better to find out in a dark parking lot if she’s happy to see me or not, than in a well-lit party. Watching Joanne hug her made me realize how much I wanted to be the one in her arms. I couldn’t see her eyes from this distance, but I knew they were hauntingly blue; her hair in the dark appeared black, but I remembered the highlights of burnished umber, the feel of those auburn strands between my fingers.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. Is it really possible to want a woman as much as I want her? We had made love once, no, several times one night. I opened my eyes again, unable to not watch her. I wondered what she would do if I just walked up and put my arms around her. I watched her talking animatedly with Alex and Joanne. Then I saw the passenger door of her car open. Another woman got out, a blonde with bright platinum hair, good-looking even at this distance. Cordelia walked around the car to her.

I turned away and slipped into the house.

Maybe it’s time to get a drink, I thought. But I wouldn’t do that, not in front of Emma. For her sake, if no one else’s, I wouldn’t drink away Cordelia having taken a lover and not bothering to tell me. Maybe with my reputation, she didn’t figure she needed to.

Go find Torbin and make him tell you outrageous and distracting stories. I went in search of him, making sure I got as far as I could from the door where Cordelia and her lover would enter.

Not finding Torbin, I headed for Rachel and the kitchen.

“Micky, honey,” she said on spying me. “Emma’s looking for you and she said to hold on to you if you passed by.”

“Then I’ll consider you to be holding me,” I said, leaning against a counter.

“Don’t you tempt these old bones,” Rachel responded.

“Me a temptation?” I played. If I couldn’t have Cordelia, I might as well flirt with every other woman at this party. Micky and her reputation. “Now, Rachel, you know damn well, a woman with your experience and knowledge, would just wear out a young thing like me.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Rachel answered. “So I’ll leave you be. Emma wants to dance with you. Now unhold yourself and go find her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“Don’t you dare ‘ma’am’ me. Just don’t trip,” Rachel said as she sent me off.

I went in search of Emma, aware that Alex would be dragging Cordelia to the same place. Suddenly I was glad of the prominence being seen with Emma would give me. Cordelia was from an old New Orleans family, but so was Emma. When Cordelia saw me, I wouldn’t be solitary, standing against the wall, but whirling across the floor as the first dancing partner of the host.

I entered the living room, looking for Emma. She was surrounded by a large circle of her friends. She had just finished telling a story and they were laughing heartily. Glancing around, she saw me. “Michele, dear,” she said, taking my hand and making an opening for me to stand beside her.

I said hello to those that I knew and Emma introduced me to the others.

“So you’re one of Emma’s girls?” the elegant woman next to me asked. I nodded yes. “What do you do?” she continued. “Or are you still in school?”

“No, I’m out of school. Way out,” I said.

“Do you really think,” Emma interjected, “that I would be standing here holding hands with a woman one quarter of my age? Really, I do have some standards. She’s only half my age. And I’m only holding on because Michele is my waltzing partner tonight and I have no intention of letting her escape.” The group chuckled appreciatively at Emma’s easy banter.

“Time to begin this affair in earnest,” Emma said, signaling the string quartet. “Ready for your ordeal by dance floor?” she asked me.

“Only for you,” I answered.

The gentle strains of Bach faded out. Conversation lagged with the music. Emma led me to the center of the dance floor.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said to the quieted crowd, “and all divergences in between, welcome to my annual Gay Gala. And Lesbian, of course. I see some new faces along with many dear old ones. For those of you who don’t know what you’re getting into, we start this evening the old-fashioned way, with that most elegant of dances” (not with me, I thought) “the waltz.

“Whoever you are and whatever you call yourself, I welcome you,” she finished, a grand dame to perfection.

She turned to me with a radiant smile and curtsied.