It was a warm Thursday evening, Jenny had just been to see Moira and things hadn’t gone well. Too many doubts and questions clouded Jenny’s mind, the only solace she could find – pouring her thoughts into writing. Why is love so confusing? How does attraction wear such a clever disguise? Whether she knew the answers or not, Jenny begun to realize that she was searching too hard, always afraid of what she’d find next.  Staring out her kitchen window, Jenny found herself wondering who or what was out there for her.

“Hey Jen, what are you up too?” It was Shane, she must’ve been home early from her dinner with Carmen. “Oh, nothing much, just being mentally exhausting,” Jenny replied somewhat pessimistically. “I’m intrigued, by your writing, could you read me something?” Shane asked in a genuine tone, removing her jacket. “So fucking hot man.” Jenny watched helplessly as Shane undressed, realizing her gaze lingered a little too long. “Um, yeah, of course, it’s pretty lame though.” Shane pulled up a chair and sat close behind Jenny, almost reading over her shoulder. “Okay,” Jenny breathed in, “Her mouth slowly opened, only to reveal an exhale of lies, she knew if they kissed it would be a foreign feeling, but still the uncertainty excited her.” Shane turned to Jenny and smiled. “That’s sexy, what’s it about?” Jenny closed her lap top and breathed in deeply. “I guess it’s about wanting to cross the line, just to feel something totally different, and not having to think or be aware of the aftermath.” The two women laughed awkwardly, knowing the forbidden feeling of lust too well. “It’s been a while since I’ve been through that,” Shane commented in a relieved voice. “Same here,” Jenny agreed, “But it is interesting.” Shane excused herself from the table to pour some drinks.

“This fucking weather, I swear,” Shane called out to Jenny, who was still sitting at the table. “The only thing for it is bourbon on the rocks,” Shane placed the drinks on the table. “What should we drink too”? Jenny thought for a moment. “To the moment and not knowing what lies thereafter.” Shane smiled to herself, Jenny’s writer side was strangely appealing. The girls toasted and knocked back their bourbons as though they were immune to the taste. “Let me put on some music,” Jenny made her way over to the stereo, playing one of her old Eurythmics c.d’s. “It’s funny, the stereotypes you could associate us with.” Shane became curious, “What do you mean?” Jenny pulled her hair out of its restraint to fall over her shoulders. Shane admired Jenny’s natural beauty. “I mean, I’m perceived as this crazy, insane, live for any experience writer and you,” Jenny paused. Shane leaned in closer. “And you’re this sexy girl from the wrong side of the tracks type.” The girls erupted into laughter. “I am not sexy,” Shane mumbled. “You are, you’re sexuality consumes women like hot wax melting over a candle,” Jenny, a little affected by the alcohol began to speak openly. Shane found herself blushing, Jenny’s words affecting her in a way beyond anything she’d been told before. “Dance with me,” Shane demanded, pulling Jenny up from her seat.