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Our First Kiss, Again

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Emma Maxwell speaks with patrons at the nightclub sometimes, because they buy her drinks and are more generous with their tips. This one has a pretty blonde woman on his arm, though she seems more like an accessory; he hardly pays any attention to her. But to Emma, she's somehow far more interesting than the patron. Something about her is familiar, like they've met someplace before. Perhaps a party or at the supermarket? Emma can't place it, but she doesn't fight the remembrance that she likes this woman.

"Darling," the woman says, touching the patron's arm as he stops talking to sip at his drink. "Would you mind if Emma took me to the powder room?"

"As long as you're not gone too long," he replies, possessive, and Emma bristles inside.

"I'm May," the blond says as they walk through the club towards the restroom doors, because the patron hasn't given her name or a chance to speak. "We've met somewhere before, haven't we?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Emma agrees, giving her a curious smile as they step into the powder room. "I don't remember where, though."

"It doesn't matter." May steps closer, has her pressed back against the powder room's full length mirror, close enough that Emma can feel the heat of her body. She smiles, something impish in the sparkle in her eyes, something lush and inviting in her lips. "I'll be upfront with you, honey... men pay the bills, but I much prefer women in my bed... help me get George too drunk to walk and then we can go someplace much nicer when you're done work here."

The thought makes Emma's heart race. She dates men usually, casually, but it's been so long since she's had what she really wants....

She smiles in reply, leaning forward to close the space between them and press her lips to May's, feeling both a thrill of desire in the pit of her stomach and an overwhelming, warm sense of good and right. May's perfume is sweet and clean and surrounds her as May leans into her, golden curls falling around her face.


The blonde waitress at the cafe in Shell Beach seems familiar to Anna as she sits next to the sidewalk, across the table from the handsome dark-haired man she'd met on the pier. May, the name tag says. She smiles at Anna as she brings them their drinks, and something about the sparkle in her eyes and the inviting curve of her full lips is familiar to Anna, makes her feel shy and euphoric and so alive.

When she excuses herself from John to use the restroom, she isn't surprised with the woman slips into the room as she's washing her hands. "I feel like I know you from somewhere. Do you come to Shell Beach often?"

"I've never been here before," Anna says slowly as she dries her hands, trying to piece through her memory, which is filled with endless nights working at the theater. In the light of day it suddenly seems like a lonely and purposeless existence. Maybe it's time for a change. "It's beautiful, though... I should come more often." She feels a sudden, strange boldness take hold of her. "I'm Anna, by the way. Can I buy you coffee when you get off work?"

May smiles, full of warmth and light, and steps closer to her. "That sounds a little like you're asking me on a date."

"Perhaps I am," Anna replies, encouraged by the woman's reaction. "Is that a yes?"

May contemplates for a moment, still smiling, then leans forward to brush her lips against Anna's briefly, leaving warmth and joy in their wake and a bright anticipation of things to come. "Two pm, after the lunch rush," she says, stepping back and giving her a wink. "Don't be late."

"I won't," Anna replies, because it feel strangely like she's been waiting for this her whole life.