Lobster Box by Cheri Crystal

Author:Cheri Crystal [Crystal, Cheri]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

::::::

Leslie and I spoke on the phone every night, sometimes for hours if time allowed, yet ending our conversation and waiting to see her was sheer torture the likes of which I’d hadn’t experienced before. This had to mean something because I’d never anticipated seeing anyone quite the way I did with Leslie.

The Friday before our lobster date, I’d hardly slept, yet I felt more refreshed than ever when Saturday finally rolled around. I must have dozed off some because I woke up early hugging my pillow as if it were Leslie in my arms. It was unbelievable how easy going in for the early shift was when spring was in the air, the birds were chirping outside my window, and I was going to meet my girl for a fancy dinner.

My suitcase was packed for days. After much deliberation, I’d eventually settled on lined navy wool slacks, a fitted white V-neck sweater that showed off ample cleavage and my comfy old Frye boots. All I needed to add was a change of undies, Charlie cologne for that outdoorsy, not too girly, scent, and a few other toiletries. I stuffed the last minute items in a small hippy overnight bag with ‘groovy’ flowers in psychedelic colors over a black background and headed to work.

The day dragged, but three o’clock eventually came. I punched out and drove to Leslie’s. Her directions were perfecto mundo – I only got lost for fifteen minutes due to my preoccupation laced with anxiety about meeting her family for the first time. I’d already bitten off the cuticles of my left hand when I started chewing on the right. Don’t forget it was only 1980 and although New York and the Melting Pot, it was hardly a gay-friendly mecca. Leslie’s family knew she was a lesbian. She told me her sisters were cool with it, but her parents preferred to pretend all was kosher and she’d find the right man someday.

I rang the bell and took a deep breath. The hallway smelled like garlic and stale cigarette smoke. A young woman answered the door.

“Hi. Laurie, right? I’m Dara, Leslie’s terrific looking sister.”

What a knockout Dara was…and modest too. She sported a huge solitaire diamond engagement ring that was hard to miss, unless you were checking out her double D’s perched high upon her chest. She moved aside so that I could pass, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get in without some contact with her breasts. The apartment was hot, and I shrugged off my jacket at once. Dara took my coat and flung it on the couch just inside the door.

“Lez, your friend’s here,” she called, as she put a tape in the Sony Betamax and plopped her well-shaped buttcass on the sofa in front of the TV. I had to stop myself from gawking, but when Leslie came out to greet me, Dara ceased to exist. I smiled wistfully and appreciated how amazing Leslie looked in clean blue scrubs with wet hair, just washed skin, and Albert Einstein College of Medicine written to the left of her heart.

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