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    Not Another Word – Bette Porter L Word

    Story written on April 15, 2014 by Blackbird.
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    6 votes, average: 5.00 out of 56 votes, average: 5.00 out of 56 votes, average: 5.00 out of 56 votes, average: 5.00 out of 56 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5 (6 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 7
    Words: 2235
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=84879
    Author Notes:

    Not Another Word Meditation Room -Silent Retreat -Bette There is a drop of water that I’m visualizing at the very tip of a finger. The droplet grows larger and fuller and I wait and wait and concentrate on it until it’s full and it does as its name implies. It drops. Now again, there is

    Not Another Word

    Meditation Room -Silent Retreat -Bette

    There is a drop of water that I’m visualizing at the very tip of a finger. The droplet grows larger and fuller and I wait and wait and concentrate on it until it’s full and it does as its name implies. It drops.

    Now again, there is a drop of water at the end of a finger and the finger is slender and the nails are clipped. There is nothing fussy about this fingertip that holds the water for a moment more. A fingertip familiar to me that traces itself against my lips, explores me first before a kiss. A touch that drove me up to the edges, God save me: The sweet touch of my lover who is now fucking gone.

    Dammit! There is a droplet of water that is clear and reflected on it is the singularity of the world around it. I watch in my mind’s eye the droplet grow larger and larger on the tip of a finger. The fingertip holds it. The touch of skin its last anchor before it falls into oblivion. Gone. And I have to do this for two more fucking hours?

    I adjust myself on my meditation cushion. I’m going to switch to the singularity of the candle flame. Much easier, Tina doesn’t hold fire at her fingertips. But she does.

    I have a terrible feeling. I have an enormous fear. I am that enormous fear that she has left me forever. I am that. I am that thought now. I am that alone. I am alone. I’m not silence I am chaos. I am. I am. I am so fucking miserable.

    I am going to pieces by this lake in this meditation session on this cushion with these kind and well meaning people who came to quiet their minds because it’s gotten to be way, way, too much. It was too loud before and it’s beyond too much now. It is hell. It is the hell of too much. I am that.

    I can see people’s hell on their faces. People think that because I’m self-absorbed I don’t notice other people or pay attention to them carefully. They are wrong. I admit to certain spells of blindness. I admit to being in my own world. I admit to being the biggest fucking asshole in the universe when I was the last person with eyesight in LA County who did not see that Tina was pregnant. Why is this fucking droplet so hard to concentrate on? Because it’s boring as shit, that’s why.

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    Comments

    1. Another painful moment in the saga of our girls. I think that I’d feel the same way as Bette at that retreat. Uh, oh! Tina’s got a little secret but Bette is very resourceful. I loved the Senator and Bette. What a smoking’ hot couple. That scotch and sucking fingers scene between the two of them was so erotic w/o clothing being discarded. You have a talent for selecting some of the most provocative scenes from the show and making them come to life with a force not achieved on the show. Well played, Ms. Blackbird.

    2. You write emotions so well I can actually feel Bette’s struggle. You are making me love a season that I hate just because I love your writing. I like how you merge the original plots with your own. Can’t wait to read more. Thank you for sharing with us your amazing gift.

    3. It was really beautiful picture, like you wrote Bette’s pain.
      Well, Henry here: (I do not came as a surprise, because you told me (but with him and Cadence, it can chase me out of the World) :)
      Wow. what a revolution! Tina has another secret. interesting.
      I’m wondering what will be her explanation of Bette.
      I think Bette will not easily forget this.
      like it,
      please posting soon.

    4. It breaks my heart every time I read something like this…*Insert quivering here*…Good thing you didn’t write
      where the cheating begin. Or else you would really break my heart to pieces… *Sobbing*

      But who’s the prisoner?…

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