After breakfast Annabel
headed to the yoga studio. She was early for class, so she set up her
space and sat on her blanket to wait, keeping one eye out for Dylan.
The class filled up
steadily but there was no sign of the shapely redhead. Annabel had just
about given up hope when Dylan finally appeared, just as class was about
to start. Fortunately the space right behind Annabel had remained open
and Dylan took it, waving hello just as the teacher called out the first
pose.
Several times during the
class Annabel could feel Dylan’s eyes on her. Or at least she thought
she could; maybe it was all in her imagination? This thing with Carla had her
mind working in a different way. Before it would never have occurred to
her that a woman in her yoga class was looking at her, maybe lusting
after her.
After class Dylan
invited Annabel to go for coffee and Annabel, flattered, accepted. They
went across the street and got a table outside; it was a gorgeous day
out, sunny with a nice cool breeze floating through the air.
Dylan asked Annabel a
few questions about herself, and Annabel asked a few in return. Dylan,
unlike Annabel, was a native Angeleno; she’d been born in Torrance. As
they were talking Annabel noticed for the first time that Dylan was
wearing a wedding ring. Annabel sort of wanted to ask about her husband,
but then decided to wait until Dylan brought it up, and she never did.
As they were walking
away from the coffee shop Dylan cocked her head and asked Annabel, “So,
do you want to come over to my house?”
Annabel looked back at
her, not quite sure she what was being asked. There was a glimmer in
Dylan’s eye, but her expression was neutral; was this an invitation, or a
proposition? After a few seconds of indecision, Annabel shook her head. “No, I’d better be getting home.”
Dylan shrugged. “OK,
maybe next time.” She leaned over and kissed Annabel on the cheek, and
Annabel kissed her back. As she walked to her car Annabel’s stomach was
fluttering. What, she wondered, would Carla think about all this? Did
Annabel dare tell her?
* * *
The rest of that day
seemed to drag on forever. Annabel couldn’t really get herself
interested in reading, or housecleaning, or TV, or any of the other
things she usually did to pass the time. At 5:00 she finally broke down
and popped open a bottle of wine. She took the bottle and a glass,
grabbed some bread and cheese, and went out onto the deck.
Of course she found
herself thinking about Carla. She wondered if Carla thought about her at
all when they were apart. Probably not, Annabel thought; probably she
was too busy doing fun and exciting things that Annabel had no clue
about.
This line of thinking
was just bringing her down, so Annabel used techniques she’d learned in
yoga class to focus on her breathing, trying to clear all extraneous
thoughts out of her head. Concentrating on the rhythm of the waves
beneath her helped; so did the wine.
Next thing she knew the
bottle was empty, the food was gone, and it was getting dark. She made
her way inside, drank a big glass of water, and once again called it an
early night. Without really intending to or thinking about it, she
turned left instead of right at the top of the stairs, and drowsily
tumbled into Carla’s bed instead of her own. Enveloped in Carla’s scent,
she fell into a contented slumber.
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