That had been the problem. He had become possessive. He had objected to her doing things, going places, without him. Or, at the very least, without his consent. Cora had known where that would lead. She had been afraid of where that would lead.

   The break up had taken a lot out of her. She was emotionally exhausted. She was drained and depressed and it had taken her a few weeks before she felt up to doing much of anything again. She began by going out with female friends. Dinner and a movie. A few drinks in a bar featuring a live band. That sort of thing. She was hit on in the bars, but always brushed the guys off. The last thing Cora wanted or needed at this point was another man in her life.

   Initially she wasn't even interested in sex. But eventually her drive came back. For a while she could take care of her urges with the help of a toy or two. But soon she was missing touching and being touched. The feel of another body pressing down on her. The feel of another body beneath her. The feel of someone's arms around her, spooning her through the night.

   Cora began going out on her own occasionally. And allowed herself to be picked up Sometimes the sex was good. Sometimes it wasn't. But it was never what she really wanted. Or needed. But she was no longer sure just what it was she wanted or needed. She only knew she was not ready for a serious relationship with another man.

   One afternoon Cora sat down in a sidewalk cafe, ordered a Cinzano and began reading a Borges collection she had taken to carrying with her. She was part way through "Emma Zunz" when she heard someone ask to join her. Cora looked up to see a woman, perhaps fifteen years beyond her own twenty three years, standing across the table from her. She quickly took in that all the other tables were occupied by couples or groups, so invited the woman to join her. After introducing herself as Jennifer, and ordering a drink, she began discussing Borges with Cora. It was apparent that Jennifer was very familiar with his writings and, as their conversation widened, obviously very widely read. Cora felt more relaxed and at ease than she had for a very long time, in spite of the fact that the woman maintained eye contact more than anyone Cora had ever met. She seldom looked away. They had been talking for well over an hour when suddenly, apropos of nothing at all, "You've been wounded Cora. I can see you've been wounded," she said.

   Cora was totally taken aback. She sat there, stunned. And then the tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from sobbing aloud.

   "Oh they can be possessive all right. I've been there myself. More than once." They were in Jennifer's house, though Cora wasn't really sure how they had gotten there. "But never again. I've moved on to better things. To sweeter things."

   Not only was Cora in Jennifer's house, she was in Jennifer's bath. "I'm going to run you a bath, no arguments. I guarantee it will make you feel a whole lot better," she had said.

   As soon as she had slipped into the water in the plant filled, candle lit bathroom, she knew Jennifer had been right. The water reached almost to her shoulders, the fragrant bath salt suds to her neck. She felt safe and secure until Jennifer had returned to the room, wearing a terry cloth bathrobe and carrying two glasses of red wine. Her robe was unbuttoned, only belted at the waist, and when she sat cross legged on the edge of the tub her legs were exposed well past mid thigh. But as they talked quietly about her breakup, and about relationships in general, Cora relaxed again. Jennifer proved a good and sympathetic listener. Then came her comment about better and sweeter things.

   "What do you mean, better things. Sweeter things?" asked Cora.

   "Oh, let's just say there are better and sweeter things in this world than the male of our species" Jennifer replied with a sardonic grin. "There's another bathrobe hanging on the door when you're ready to reappear. I'll be in the living room"

   Cora continued to soak in the tub, thinking about Jennifer's comment. "She's gay," thought Cora, she's a lesbian." But Jennifer had mentioned having had more than one relationship with men. "So she's not really a lesbian." Cora didn't know whether to be concerned or exited. She realized she was both.

   When Cora entered the living room wearing the bathrobe, she found Jennifer sitting on the couch, cross legged, as she had been in the bathroom. Her thighs well exposed again. "So, does Cora feel a little better now?"

   "Yes. Much better." She realized her voice didn't sound all that steady.

    "Well, that's good, but I'm sure we can have you feeling even better. The wine is on the table. Pour yourself another glass."

   Cora went to the table, putting her back to Jennifer. As she poured herself another glass, she became aware that Jennifer had left the couch and was standing behind her. Very close behind her. "I think you know what I mean Cora" softly and so close to her ear that she could feel the air vibrate. She was very aware of the tremor in her hand.

   Cora set the wine down and turned to face Jennifer. They were very close, breasts almost touching. Jennifer ran the back of her middle finger over Cora's cheek, so lightly, so gently, that Cora was not even sure that she had been physically touched. And then Jennifer's lips touched hers. Soft and gentle and sweet and Cora thought her knees would buckle.

   Cora's nudeness is stretched across the big soft bed as Jennifer's fingertips trace the outlines of her body. They graze her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Her mouth and tongue too, soft as butterfly wings, run over Cora's nudeness. Jennifer's fingertips, mouth, and tongue touch her everywhere. Except were Cora wants most to be touched. Most needs to be touched. As Jennifer's tongue explores that area between thigh and nether lips, Cora hears herself pleading. "Please. Please do it. Touch it. Kiss it. Please. Please"

   And then Jennifer does. Her tongue parts Cora's lips and strokes their length and Cora's body arches as the electricity flows through her.

   When Cora's orgasm subsided Jennifer lay beside her, spooning her, softly caressing her and whispering sweet and loving words until Cora fell asleep.

   When she awoke it was evening, and Cora found herself alone on the bed, beneath a light coverlet. She lay quiet and still in the semi darkness, remembering, reliving, what had happened. She arose, found the robe neatly draped over a chair, slipped her arms into it, leaving it unbelted, and walked down the hall to the living room. Jennifer sat in an arm chair, her legs crossed, reading. She looked up as Cora crossed the room toward her. Cora's breasts and belly, her mount and thighs were visible to Jennifer in the dim light afforded by her reading lamp. She set her book aside as Cora knelt in front of her and reached out to undo the belt on Jennifer's robe. Jennifer uncrossed her legs as Cora opened the robe, then parted them as Cora leaned forward and tasted Jennifer for the first time. Tasted another woman for the first time. Tasted her new life.