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    A drunken confession.

    “Have you brought enough beer?” Tina asked as Shane put a further crate next to the two that had already been brought in. Bette had invited her friends over to help her celebrate her birthday and they had decided they were going to drink themselves stupid by the look of it.

    “No, but this all we bought.” Shane laughed.

    Tina shook her head before she starting to prep all the meat the would need to go on the grill.

    Shane opened a bottle of beer and passed it to tian.

    “Thank you,” She took a long drink of it, glad it was the weekend and she could let lose with Bette and their friends.

    “Not a problem. Will you and Bette be coming back to the club any time soon?”

    “I don’t know, Bette usually decided when we go,”

    “You’re more a home bird?” Shane asked, as she sat onto the kitchen counter that Tina wasn’t using.

    “Yeah, I always have been, before I meet Bette, I was very lonely and alone. I didn’t go out much, didn’t have any friends. Was scared to openly admit I was gay, then I went to New York and because I wasn’t in LA I went to a bar, sat at the bar and she came in.”

    “And you’ve never looked back,”

    “She moved back to LA for me, and I know that her New York Gallery makes four times as much as the LA one. I sometimes think she’d rather be there, but when I ask her about it she says she’s happy here.”

    “She is, she’s the happiest I’ve seen her in years. You’ve changed her life,”

    “Do you think for the better?” Tina asked as she took another drink of beer and started to put cling film over the meats.

    “Yeah, trust me Tina, before you she was lonely but a different kind. She was bed hopping because no one could give her what she craved.”

    “And what do I crave Shane?” Bette walked into the kitchen, wearing jeans and top. She looked great as usual.

    “You crave domination, you want a woman who will kneel before you, let you fuck them senseless and then she’ll make you dinner afterwards.” Shane grinned

    Tina started laughing.

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