8 comments/ 19312 views/ 13 favorites Sheena and Cassie By: PoissonSurLaLune Author's Notes: This is my first whack at a lesbian story, and if I got anything horribly terribly wrong please let me know. It never actually gets to any real sex, so if you're looking for some down and dirty fun this is not the story for you. It's more of a cute romance than anything else. Estragon has been a tremendous help to me in the editing process, but I happen to be rather willful. So if you find yourself really getting into the story, that's because he smoothed out the rough edges. When it suddenly seems like a drunken horse clopped the keyboard with his hooves on the keyboard, that's because I defended my art less wisely than well. All characters are over 18, and can present valid IDs upon request. I love comments, so please give me feedback, especially helpful feedback. Next up (hopefully) is a BDSM story. Woo! -PSLL *** It was the end of the end of high school. All of us in Mrs. Craig's Advanced Placement English class had mentally checked out. The tests had been taken, the college acceptance letters received, and now we were just punching our tickets until Yearbook Day. Mrs. Craig tried to put a brave face on it, telling us how proud she was, and how she wanted to end the year on a high note. No one was really listening. Our soon-to-be-valedictorian was playing hearts in the back corner while his main "rival" for the position craned her neck to get a good look at his hand. The girl seated across from me was slumped on her desk, cheek resting on her laced fingers as she watched Mrs. Craig with indifferent blue eyes. I was feathering my pencil in my notebook, trying to capture the supple arch of her back. I had always noticed Cassiella, the girl sitting across from me, even if I had never really interacted with her. We were in most of the same classes, but I pretty much hung out with the Asian clique, while she ran with the metalheads and potsmokers. She stood out ever since I transferred to this high school in tenth grade. My best friend Mary had talked me and my parents into coming over because of the school's strong academic reputation, and that first day had been a whirlwind of introductions and private giggles. Soon her friends became my friends, but I couldn't stop thinking about all the people on the outside, the ones I never really talked to. I noticed Cassie that very first day. She was wearing a pale blue long sleeved shirt and jeans, loose brown curls tumbling over her shoulders, and I thought she was very pretty. Mary had told me she hung out with "sketchy" people and that those long sleeves hid scars from years of cutting. The message was loud and clear, but whenever I saw her around I always wondered what her real story was. She didn't display piercings like her disaffected friends, she always seemed to dress a little on the conservative side, and there was something sad about her. Sometimes I wished I could reach out to her, but I never knew how. Mary did all my reaching out for me. By senior year I heard more rumors about her. That she was bi, that she had been raped, that she put out in the school bathroom. I knew two guys who dated her, but they both seemed eager to trash talk her harder than anyone else. I couldn't believe all those stories about the girl who always smiled and said hi when we met in the halls. I knew how the rumor mill worked. Once I had ignored my parents' rules and gone to a movie with a guy from the lacrosse team. He'd slipped his arm around me and put his lips on mine. He spent five minutes with his tongue in my mouth, splooging around as I sat there open eyed and tried to enjoy it. I failed, told him it was nice but that I didn't think we should go out again. I found out later most of the lacrosse team thought I had gone down on him in the theater. So I wasn't going to judge Cassie by what other people said about her. Mrs. Craig finally got to detailing our end of the year project. Nothing fancy, a report with a poster about one of the authors we had studied, and of course treats were "encouraged". The rest of class would be spent figuring out who our partners and subjects would be. As soon as she finished everyone was on their feet, not wanting to be the odd one out in this game of social musical chairs. My picture of Cassie was interrupted, a hazy feminine outline with a cascade of curls spilling out onto her desk. She was taking her time, putting her books away, probably figuring that she'd do the project with whoever was left. I looked at her, wondering. Then I decided. It took a moment for her to notice that I was standing by her desk, and she seemed a little startled when she did. "Oh, hey Sheena..." she started, eyeing me a little curiously. "Hey Cassie, I was wondering if you wanted to partner up for the project?" I tried to ask like it was the most normal thing in the world, but it was a little weird to be asking to work with someone I hardly knew. "Um yeah, sure...." "So do you want anyone in particular or should I just sign us up?" *** "You're doing it with Cassie?" Mary said, scrunching her nose and shaking her head in an exaggerated gesture of disgust. Everything Mary did was exaggerated. She was the first Chinese girl I had met when my family moved to town and I was drawn to her like everyone was. Her personality was larger than life, all that happiness and energy wrapped into a tiny frame; thin as a stick with a grin as wide as the Mississippi. She'd seen me when I was alone and shy, and made it her business to be my friend and I loved her for it. She could, however, be a real bitch. We were walking to her car and I hadn't really meant to talk about my choice of English project partner, but the gossip had already got to her. The gossip ALWAYS got to her. "She's a really good writer. I got her essay for peer review and it was good. " "But she's weeeeeird," Mary objected, stretching the last word into a cutesy pleading whine. I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. "Weeeeeeeeeird," Mary simpered again, clearly loving the feel of it in her mouth. We both broke down giggling and I gave her a little push. "Shad up. She's nice! I mean, she seems nice." "It's always the 'nice' ones," she intoned with mock solemnity. "Seriously, what do you have against her?" I asked, feeling just a little defensive. "I dunno...." she said as we got to the car, pursing her lips and looking at me over the roof. "I just hear things." "Oh, like no one says anything about you behind your back, you heartbreaker you." "Psh, no, like, REAL things." "Like what?" I asked as I got into the car and buckled up. She got into the driver's seat, checking her mirrors. "Just that she's into some really messed up stuff." "Drugs? Kinky sex? Bacon flavored coffee?" "That last one actually sounds good!" "Oh, now who's the weird one?" "Just ahead of the curve." We didn't talk about Cassie the rest of the ride home. EVERYONE had heard the stories. *** We worked the details out over the phone, and although Cassie immediately offered her place she seemed elated when I offered up mine. I couldn't help conjuring up mental images of her house as some kind of a redneck shack with a barking dog on a chain and beer-swilling dad in a wife beater yelling after her whenever she went out the door. When my mom heard about Cassie coming over she went into overdrive. I wouldn't say my family is traditional or anything like that, but we do have a very strong sense of appearances. For a returning guest a platter of food would suffice, but a first time visitor? There would be cooking, no two ways about it! Outwardly I played the good Westernized daughter and protested that she was making too big a deal since we'd just be working. Inwardly I was guesstimating how many bao zi I could cram into my mouth before looking like a pig. By the time the doorbell rang my mom was practically salivating to get her hostess on and I didn't even try to beat her to the door, which she flung wide open. "Ah! You are Cassie? Come in come in. Sheena is here but you eat a little first? I make bao zi, Chinese, very very good, you try?" Poor Cassie looked like she had just slammed face first into a solid wall of Chinglish enthusiasm. Which was fair, because she had. She held up her hands, trying to calm my mom. "Oh, no, that's fine, I mean, I'm not really hungry and I already had lunch...." "Oh no, she's right, you have to try at least one. They're small," I said, putting a hand on my mom's shoulder as I stepped around the door. "Just a little snack." "Well okay," said Cassie, collecting herself after my mom's verbal shock and awe. We went to the kitchen and grabbed the plate with arranged, still hot bao zi and each had one, making sure to thank my mom and tell her how good they were before we took the rest up to my room to work. "So your mom's pretty intense," Cassie observed, looking over her shoulder as she shut the door, as though my mom might be lurking even now. "Yeah, I think she gets lonely. Her English isn't that great and you know it's a long way from China," I said with an apologetic half-smile. "Oh no! Not like it's a bad thing, it's cute, and those pot stickers are REALLY good." "Yeah... It's why I'm always scheming to get people over here to make her cook!" I smiled and rubbed my hands together in an appropriately sinister way. Cassie snorted and shook her head, a little smile teasing across her lips. She really did have a pretty smile. I had put us down for Ibsen and we both agreed we were going to do a really basic presentation. Getting enough background to fill our five minutes was no problem, so we wound up spending most of our time eating bao zi and giving a running commentary of our nascent poster. "I'm Hans Christian Andersen and I'm here to remind you that feminism will make us cut off your feet and tongue," she said in a pinched voice as she pasted on a picture of the old conservative. "Well I'm Henrik Ibsen and I say women should be free. Burn bras, side burns, party!" I replied as I added our mutton chopped friend to the poster. "No one cares about you, Ibsen! I get made into Disney films." "Disney films about slutty mermaids whose skankdom pays off... Bitch." "Well... nyah!" She twisted her face like she was chewing on a lemon and we both laughed. Then she went back to the poster, leaning over it to check our gluing jobs. The way she arched over made her green long sleeved shirt hug to the curve of her back, her heavy breasts falling forward a bit towards the V neck. But what I really noticed was how the residue of our little laugh teased her mouth into a smile. I pressed my lips as I felt a weird lightness in my gut. She gave me a look out of the corner of her eye. "What?" she asked, like there might be something wrong with her. "Nothing!" I blurted as I snapped back to reality, whipping my head back to the poster. But she had caught that look and twisted to face me, still leaning forward, her weight on one hand. I furtively looked at her out of the corner of my eye. Her smile deepened a little. "You're blushing, it's cute," she teased. "I just zoned out for a bit!" I protested, fiddling with something on the poster. "Suuure." She turned around to face me, leaning forward with her hands on her knees and I couldn't help glancing at the alabaster cleavage she displayed, before I met her eyes. I've always noticed other girls' breasts and wished I had more of my own and hers looked, well, good. "I always thought you were cute," she said matter of factly as she crawled a bit closer to me. I felt my breath catching in my throat. Her face hovered just in front of mine, eyes looking right into mine. I felt her fingers gently stroke my cheek. "So pretty," she whispered. My lips felt dry as they parted just a bit. Her hand slid around behind my hair and drew my lips to hers. I closed my eyes, heart pounding as she guided me into the kiss. Our lips locked, and I felt a buzz running all through me as her tongue probed into my mouth. She was in her element, calm, collected, taking her time. Her arms came around me, hugging me towards her, her hands exploring me. I was sloppy, hands groping around her back, tongue clumsily overreacting to each little move of hers. By the end of the kiss my world was spinning. She was cupping my face, her forehead just barely touching mine as she looked into my eyes. For a long moment we just looked at each other. This was big. She was a girl, and we had just kissed, and I didn't' even know what to think. All those thoughts kept running through my head as I looked into those pale eyes. She cracked up. I was flabbergasted for a second, then started laughing along with her, still all tossed up and turned around. "What?" I asked, barely able to talk through the laughing. "The look on your face, just, yeah...." I bit my lip, having no idea what to do, but when she stopped laughing and looked back at me with a gleam in her eye I knew exactly what we'd be doing. When she left a few hours later, the poster still wasn't done. *** My mom's first reaction after Cassie left was to ask me why she had never heard of her before. Since I was grinning like an idiot she figured we must be close. That's when the reality hit, and I felt my stomach clench into a knot. "She's just a fun person," I told her, paying careful attention to the countertop. I didn't know what my mom thought of homosexuality. It had never come up. I did know that she didn't believe in divorce. My dad had gone back to China years ago to work as a consultant with her blessing, but the idea of a legal split was anathema to her. The only serious talk we'd ever had about sex boiled down to "Chinese girls save it for marriage". I went back up to my room, looking at the half finished poster. Normally when I had Chinese family drama I called Mary for some commiseration, but that was a conversation I was not looking forward to having: "By the way, I might be gay! Yeah, with that girl you think is creepy! I just didn't want that to be awkward, you know?" Cassie called me twice the next day, left messages about getting back together, talking about what happened and finally finishing up the poster. I texted her back, saying that I had finished the poster and that she wouldn't have to worry about it. My phone buzzed, just a text. I opened it. "So thats the way its gonna be". I snapped my phone shut, went to my bed and cried. *** I always noticed her, but on Monday I really wished I didn't. I could feel her glare on me all through first period and as soon as the bell went off I was out like a shot. A few seconds later, Mary caught up to me in the hall. "Cassie was really shooting you the death glare," she said in a low voice, a pissed look on her normally pleasant features. People always saw Mary as either a sweetheart or a conniving bitch straight out of Mean Girls. She was both, and when someone messed with her friends you saw it. "Whatever," I said, speeding up a little, not wanting to look at her. "Who does she think she is? After you went out of your way to be nice to her! What happened?" Mary loved her friends, but she also loved gossip. She knew something was up and I knew that she wouldn't let it go, but I still tried. "Nothing, it was stupid," I muttered. "Stupid isn't nothing," she hissed, righteous anger and high school curiosity wedded into one unstoppable force. I couldn't take it. I just wanted to get her off my case, to make it all go away. "She made a pass at me and I said no." "Seriously?" "Look, I don't want to talk about it." I turned and stared her in the eye. Her face had softened a bit and I felt bad, not just for stabbing Cassie in the back, but for lying to my best friend. "Just don't tell anyone, please? Okay?" "Okay," she said. Mary loved gossip, but she also loved her friends. And the reason we were so close is that I knew which she loved more, hands down. *** It ate at me all week, especially when the first round of presentations started on Wednesday. We watched the pairs do their things, and I always tried to avoid noticing Cassie sitting there with a stony look on her face. At home my mom asked if she was ever going to see Cassie again. I said we did what we had to do, and that I didn't think Cassie would come over again. Lying to my mom was actually easier than lying to Mary, but also a lot scarier. Growing up, I'd gotten used to living in two worlds, one at home and one outside. They didn't interact much and I worked hard to keep it that way. A lot of my outside friends, especially the non-Asian ones, couldn't understand the intensity of my relationship with my parents. They had left everything they knew behind to give me better opportunities in the US, and they expected me to take advantage of the possibilities. So they pushed me in ways that scared other people. They called me stupid when I acted stupid, pushed me to work long hours and punished me in ways that a lot of non-Asian parents would never consider. But I knew that I meant everything to them, and more than anything else I was terrified of disappointing them. So I lied to my mom a lot, but only about the small things. I worked hard for my grades, studied for tests, but if I wanted to spend a day at the mall unwinding I'd say I was at the library cramming. I wasn't supposed to watch any TV, but a lot of "group projects" involved watching teen dramas at Mary's house. It wasn't that I wanted to deceive her, but she came from a different world than the one I lived in, and I had to keep a foot in both. Dad was simpler. He lived an ocean away so I only had to tell him about the big stuff, not lie about all the little day-to-day things that he just wouldn't get. But this was a big thing, and a thing he wouldn't get. At least I didn't think he would. Being gay was something that happened in the outside world. I had friends that came out, and that was fine. But I also had friends that had a B average. Neither of these were possibilities for me personally. Well, getting Bs was possible, but terrifying. Homosexuality just didn't exist in my family. Things would happen "when I got married" which was as natural a part of life as growing up, graduating and dying. And if I was gay I would have to tell them that so many of their hopes and dreams for me just wouldn't happen. At least not in the way they thought. It was scary, but at the same time, if I really was gay maybe they would come around. I remembered when I had been studying for the SAT and wasn't consistently getting the scores I needed, I had been burning the midnight oil until I broke down crying. My mother, the ferocious, vicious tiger mom who had told me that 1400s were for state schools, came in and told me to stop. We had the kind of honest conversation parents and children usually dance around, telling me that she was proud of me no matter what and that all she wanted was the best for me. So maybe she would understand this now. I didn't even know I was gay. Lots of people experiment, right? Maybe this was just a thing that would pass. But what if it wasn't? I always appreciated guys aesthetically, but I never had the same kinds of slavering crushes as Mary. I had only kissed one guy and one girl; could I really figure out anything life changing from that? Those were all big questions. They would need big answers later, but right now I had to figure them out one step at a time. I had stabbed Cassie in the back, lied to my friends and family and made a confused mess out of things. It wasn't right to leave it there and I knew what I had to do. I really, really didn't want to do it. It was 10 when I called her, after I turned off the lights. I held my breath for the first few rings, but then I thought I might luck out and get the answering machine. Sheena and Cassie "Hey." No such luck. Her voice was flat enough to hurt. "Hi." I managed through a tight feeling throat. "Got that poster?" I could hear her chewing as she talked on the other end of the line. "Listen, about that thing...." "It was a mistake. I know. I've been a lot of people's mistake." I had nothing to say to that. "I'll make some cookies, we can BS it." Click. I put the cell phone back on the charger, lay back in my bed and stared up at the dark ceiling. I wished it hadn't happened, but lying on the bed where I had felt her on top of me I really wanted it to happen again. I had never really understood kissing, and my one other experience with it had been just as awkward as it seemed. But now that I had really experienced the thrill of it, I found myself yearning for it, especially since I wanted to escape the guilt from doing it the first time. *** About halfway through Saturday I realized what I had to do. Reading through my notes about pre-20th century feminism I saw a short little line about how "women are sluts, men are players/'cause the bitches can get preggers". The handwriting was looser and sloppier than mine, and I remembered Cassie and me giggling at the stupid rhyme. I wasn't a guy, but I could dump all the stigma of what we had done on her. Hell, I HAD dumped it all on her with Mary. I doubted Cassie would ever want me back, considering the way I had acted, but I still couldn't just let what I had done hang over my head. I picked up my cell and dialed one of the few numbers I had committed to memory. "Sheena! Yo shenme sher?" Mary chirped into the phone, her parents' thick Beijing accent muddling her voice. Generally we spoke English, but she liked dropping a few playful Chinese phrases. "Look, I have to tell you something," I said, in a way that killed her playful mood. I had only so much resolve and I could feel it sneaking away. I kept thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad, no one would talk about it, and everything would be the same for me, and about the same for Cassie. It would be simple, easy, and totally unfair to her. "Sure, what's up?" "You know what I told you about Cassie making a pass at me?" "Yeah...." The uncertainty in her voice made me pause, but at the same time it made me feel like I couldn't stop now. The gears in Mary's head were turning and I was committed. "I lied, well, I didn't really lie, but I didn't tell the truth." She was quiet on the other end of the line. "I kissed her. We made out." There. It was out. "Whoa! You made out with HER?!" Mary's voice had dropped to a hiss. "Did you like it? Was she better than Scot?" "I guess, I mean, at the time, but then I didn't know what to say or what to do and I didn't want to have to deal with all that." "So do you think you're gay?" Her voice was weird, not really disapproving, but more like I had just told her zombie alien Jesus watches us all from Mars. "I don't know. I know I liked kissing her, but that's not really the same thing, is it?" "No," Mary concurred. "But why was she staring at you in English, why did you lie to me about it?" "I just didn't want to deal with it," I admitted, finding it much easier to talk now. Mary knew, I'd done the right thing, and the world would keep spinning. "I kind of blew her off, and that's why she's pissed at me." There was silence on the end of the line for a few long moments. "So what is the deal with you two? Like, do you LIKE her?" "I don't know," I confessed, squirming on my bed. I had been avoiding thinking about this exact question. "She's really pretty, and funny and all that, but like I said, I'm not sure I'm like that." "Do you think I'm pretty?" She asked tentatively, and once again I was reminded of how different life would be if everyone knew I liked kissing girls. "Yes, but not like that." "Like what?" "Like I wouldn't want to make out with you," I clarified. "We've known each other forever. That would be gross." We talked about a lot of things: all the times we'd checked out guys together, if I could ever tell my parents about it and everything else it meant for me. The one thing we didn't talk about that sat in the back of my mind was what I wanted to do about Cassie, and what I wanted from her. *** Around 10 AM Sunday I saw her name on my cell phone and feel my heart clench in my chest. "Hello?" I more asked than said. "Hey." Cassie's voice was a little thin, like she was as worried about this conversation as I was. "Mary called me, I guess you two talked." "Yeah, we did." I was too weirded out by this conversation to get too pissed about Mary breaking my trust. "I told her some...." "Yeah, she told me. Thanks." That last word was almost a squeak. "A lot of people haven't done that." "I owed you," I admitted. "Well... do you want to come over? We could talk about it?" Part of me wanted to say no, to run from it. "Yeah, sure. When?" "Whenever. I'm free now." *** Her house was pretty far south, not in a terrible neighborhood but not a great one either. When the dog in the yard started barking she came out and told it to sit, smiling up at me apologetically and explaining that he was young and feisty. The house was small and cluttered inside, with various knickknacks scattered around but clear paths on the floor. The kitchen window had a yellowish pall and the bitter scent of cigarettes teased at my nostrils. She led me quickly through and to a small bedroom in the back that I presumed was hers. Books lined the walls, mostly older and second hand looking, but unlike the rest of the house it seemed meticulously maintained and a quick look at her face showed she was relieved to have me out of the house proper. "Sorry about the mess," she said apologetically, sitting on her bed. "Oh, it's nothing," I answered, plopping down next to her, hands on my knees so I'd have some place safe to keep them. We sat quietly for a long moment, neither of us looking at the other. It was hard to talk, but the silence felt like suffocating. At last I said, "I never kissed a girl before." "I figured." I surprised myself and laughed. "I was that bad?" "You were cute... but yeah, pretty bad." I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and saw her doing the same. We smiled at each other. "You were really good." My voice was small, the truth in my words terrifying to admit. She put her hand on my knee, squeezing it gently. "Well I've had practice. I'm sure you've heard." I shrugged. "People say a lot of things about you. I said things about you." She bumped her shoulder against mine gently. "Everyone says shit. You owned up to it. I really do appreciate it." "How much of it is true?" For a moment she studied me carefully for a moment. "I've made a lot of mistakes. Does it matter?" "No." It was my turn to lean gently against her, turning my face to look at her. "But I guess I'm nosy." She laughed, slipping her hand around my waist. My breath caught. If I wanted to stop this from becoming romantic now was the time. I cuddled up to her, letting her squeeze me gently to her, resting my head against her shoulder. "I'll tell you all about it," she said, the tip of her nose brushing by my temple, followed by her lips on my forehead. "Mm, it can wait," I admitted, raising my lips to hers, the kiss coming softly like a dream. Her hands teased over my sides in a way that made me giggle, her body pressing against me, pushing me back down to her sheets. As we kissed I got bolder, letting my hand sneak up underneath her ass, along its generous curve, then under her shirt, feeling the smooth bare skin. There was a lull where we laid on our sides, just looking into each other's eyes. "Hey," she said. "Hey." She giggled and kissed me gently. I waited for a moment, and gave her a quick peck back. Soon we were full on making out again, and I rolled on top of her, feeling her full, soft form under me. Somehow in the tangle of our bodies my hands slipped up from her wrists, pushing up the sleeves of her shirt. I looked down and saw my fingers on the soft pink mess of scar tissue and realizing what it was made me nauseous. She saw where I was looking and pressed her lips apologetically. "Do you still do that?" I asked quietly, my thumb grazing the angry looking mark. It was sickening to touch, but I couldn't stop myself. It didn't seem to hurt her any. "Not really," she said evasively. "Why did you do it?" "I was frustrated I guess. I wanted to hurt someone. Someone turned out to be me." I looked up at her, saw her sadness out there, raw and exposed, and smiled as tenderly as I could. I lifted her hand, lowered my lips to her wrist, and kissed the scar. She smiled and hugged me to her. It all kind of ran together that afternoon. We kissed and talked and talked and kissed, commiserated and played with each other's hair. Sometimes it went a bit too fast for me, both physically and emotionally. She'd press a hand against my crotch or ask a question too close to home, but when I brushed her hand away or told her I didn't want to talk about something she understood, never pushing me farther than I wanted to go. By the time her father came home with her brother I must have looked like quite a mess, but they didn't say anything about it. I politely introduced myself then slipped quietly out. When I got home I snuck under my sheets and let my fingers dance to thoughts of Cassie's touch. *** I caught her before school on Monday and stole a quick kiss from her. We were far from settled, and I knew there would be questions and challenges ahead. I would have to come out to my parents, explain my girlfriend to all my friends, and then say goodbye when we went to our separate schools. But that morning, when we walked into the hall holding hands, I really didn't care.