Desperate Measures

Genre: Original / Romance. This is a sequel to "Desperate Housewife." It may be wise to read that story first. Rated: R Disclaimer: No disclaimers are required. The characters and this story are mine. Sexual Content/Violence: Sex? Yes, absolutely. Acknowledgements: This time I had a bunch of people that helped me make this story a better one. Jae, Pam, Nene, and Alena were so kind to point out the flaws in my plot, grammar and wording. This story wouldn't be what it is without you. All errors, omissions, and transgressions left in the story are solely my own responsibility. Last but not least thanks to my partner Daniela for the cover. In case you want to let me know how and if you liked my story, please write to filfil67@yahoo.de and/or visit my website at www.filfil.de

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Chapter 1

Heavy rain beat a staccato rhythm on the taxi's roof. The downpour hadn't stopped since early morning, and now, after dark, Springfield's streets morphed into shallow lakes reflecting passing cars' headlights like glittering disco balls.

In the backseat, Gillian leaned her head against the cool window. She watched the run-down houses and wavering forms outside the taxi without interest until they passed a woman with long hair and a powerful walk. Sylvana! She pressed her palms to the window, then sunk back. No. A child clung to the woman's hand.

Gillian closed her eyes against the painful memories that blazed up inside her: the disappointment in Sylvana's expression as Gillian's snobby friends hurled insults at her and the shock when she realized that Gillian didn't stand by her side.

This moment had been one of the most painful in Gillian's life. She had failed the one adult person that had begun to really mean something to her. Even now she couldn't understand why for goodness' sake she hadn't said or done anything to defend Sylvana.

Frozen. She had been totally, utterly frozen by fear back then. Completely unable to move or to speak the only thing she could think about was what would happen if her friends found out about the nature of their relationship. The memory of her failure, of her cowardice felt like an ever thickening cover of frostbite around her heart. She had betrayed Sylvana's trust and probably destroyed whatever they both could have had.

The taxi halted, hurtling Gillian back to the present. She forced her eyes open.

"Here we are, ma'am. That's fifty-four dollars." The driver turned in his seat to face her.

Gillian tried to get a look at the buildings outside. "This is 24 Hammond Street?" she asked, unable to see properly through the rain-smeared window. What she saw however confirmed what she knew about this part of Springfield. It wasn't the safest place in town.

"Yes, ma'am."

So, that was it then. With slightly shaking hands she took sixty dollars out of her wallet and handed the bills over. "I guess this isn't the most populated area of town, right?"

"No, ma'am. It sure isn't."

With her luck she would become the victim of a mugger as soon as the taxi left. Gillian sighed. "Thanks. Keep the change, please."

The driver took the money and furrowed his brows. "Are you sure you don't want me to wait for you, ma'am?"

Gillian bit her lip and looked out the window. She didn't want to appear like a wimp. On the other hand, it would be nice to have someone close-by if she needed to get away in a hurry.

She forced a smile. "You know, that isn't such a bad idea." She handed him another thirty dollars. "How long will that keep you?"

"At least twenty minutes, ma'am." He took the money and turned off the taxi's engine. "Let's say I'll wait for half an hour 'cause I need a break anyhow and this place is as good as any."

"Are you sure?" Gillian put her wallet back into her purse.

"Yep." He settled more comfortably into his seat, clearly prepared to stay a while.

"Thank you." Gillian couldn't help smiling. At least I've lucked out with the taxi driver. Half an hour should be more than enough to find out if Sylvana was in her favorite club and, more importantly, if she wanted to talk to Gillian. And if not? What do I do then?

Hopelessness gnawed on her like a terrier on a bone.

She was tempted just to turn around and leave. Instead of walking into the lion's den, she could be at home within the next forty minutes and enjoy a good book or watch something relaxing on television. There was always tomorrow. She could try to get hold of Sylvana on the phone. Maybe it would be easier to talk without seeing each other face to face.

Coward. Trying to find the easy way out again? It wouldn't work and she knew it. Sylvana hadn't answered any of her calls so far. Why should tomorrow be any different?

Get a grip. You came here to talk to her. She got out of the car and opened her umbrella with stubborn determination.

A waft of cold, wet air welcomed her outside. She shivered, cursing her decision to dress up. The black Vera Wang dress wasn't made for this kind of weather, but she wasn't above female tricks to gain her lover's favor. Don't fool yourself, ex-lover is more likely.

Clinging to her umbrella as if it was a lifeline, she looked up at the neon sign on the building in front of her. "The Labrys." Couldn't the owner have been a bit more creative?

She had no idea what was expected her inside. Her knowledge of what a lesbian club looked like came from The L-World. And somehow she doubted that Sylvana's favorite turf had much to do with one of those stylish clubs.

Gillian shook her head. Setting foot in a lesbian club was not something she had ever considered in the past. Back then she had been a straight wife whose biggest challenge had been to adorn her husband's arm at special occasions, and to live a seemingly perfect suburban life until the day her husband died.

No, that's not true. Until the day I found out about his affairs and mistresses. That day had changed her life in more than one way.

Hesitating in front of the club's door, she felt almost sickened by her stomach's churning. She took a deep lungful of damp air to help clear her mind and calm her nerves.

"I'm not sure the door will open through sheer will power. At least it didn't yesterday," said a sultry voice behind her.

Gillian nearly jumped out of her skin. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She gripped the keys in her pocket, prepared to fight any potential attacker behind her.

Clenching down on the icy panic in her belly she turned around.

The pouring rain and shadowy darkness made it hard to see more than a bulky form. Her knees weakened with relief when she realized that the person standing before her was a tall, black woman with a friendly, lopsided grin on her face.

"Sorry if I scared you, honey, but you're blocking my way," the stranger said, taking two steps to stand under the shelter of the eaves. "What lousy weather. Wouldn't believe it's already April."

Gillian's heart still galloped. She took a second glance at the stranger. Even in the dim light she could see that the woman was broad-shouldered. She wore a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and black steel-toe boots. Her soaking wet dreadlocks were plastered to her head.

A grunt of appreciation nearly escaped Gillian's throat. Wow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stand in the way." Gillian's face grew warm when she realized that she had likely been observed staring at the door like a mouse hypnotized by a snake.

"No problem." The tall stranger opened the door before she said over her shoulder, "Do you want to come inside and have some fun downstairs, or would you prefer to continue flirting with the unresponsive door?" She gave Gillian a wink.

Is she flirting with me? "I… I know that I must look stupid. It's only that… well, I've never been to this particular kind of club before." Gillian shuffled her feet, then immediately regretted her action when a wave of cold water seeped into her stilettos.

The other woman shrugged. "Everyone was once a first timer, honey. I learned there isn't much to be afraid of if you stick to a simple rule."

"And that would be?" Gillian tilted her head.

The stranger closed the door again and leaned against the frame. She took her time to look Gillian slowly up and down.

Gillian suddenly felt a lot warmer.

"The most important rule in life is: be very clear and upfront about what you want. That is the best strategy for getting what you want and avoiding what you fear," the woman said.

Gillian shook her head. "It sounds too easy."

"As a matter of fact, it is easy. It's just that women have a tough time with this 'cause we are taught to be friendly and understanding rather than open and honest." The woman shrugged a second time. "I personally find that this little rule makes my life a lot easier."

Open and honest? Surely it couldn't be so easy, Gillian thought. On the other hand, her whole life felt like a fake when viewed through such a lens. False pretenses and indifference had killed her relationship with her husband long before he died. Guilt and lies had driven a wedge between her and Sylvana. It couldn't hurt to try something different for a change.

Gillian gathered her courage and walked toward the door. "All right, I'm in."

"Good for you." The stranger opened the door. "By the way, I'm Skyler and I would very much love to buy you a drink."

Caught by surprise, Gillian did not know how to respond. So she was flirting with me.

Skyler's dark eyes twinkled as she waited patiently for Gillian's reply.

Open and honest she said. There's no time like now. Let's try it.Gillian graced Skyler with a gentle smile. "Sorry, but I'm here looking for my…" she swallowed, unsure what to call Sylvana. "For someone," she concluded with as much firmness as she could muster.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it? Openness and honesty work just fine with me. Though I hope whatever or whoever you are looking for is worth it."

"She is." Gillian was surprised about the determination in her voice.

"Then I hope you'll find her here tonight. And if not… you know where to find me." Skyler's grin had a good-natured leer in it.

Gillian couldn't help chuckling. "Thank you, Skyler. But if I can't find her here, I'll be going home." She starred at her feet. "But I hope that you're going to find some fun tonight."

Skyler snorted. "Oh, I have no doubt about that. I'm packed and ready to go."

Gillian tilted her head in silent inquiry but got no response from Skyler except another wink.

Straightening her shoulders, she made her way through the entrance, past Skyler and down the stairs. The music and Cher's smoky voice seemed loud after the quiet outside. The tang of cigarette smoke and sweat welcomed her to the faintly lit room where a dirty-brown bar in desperate need of a fresh paint job dominated the left side of the room. Posters of half-naked women hung on the walls around the bar. Memories of high school boys' lockers flashed through Gillian's mind.

Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it. This is what a lesbian club looks like? She took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if her being here was such a good idea.

Her gaze was drawn to the women at the bar. The majority of the customers appeared to be the epitome of big bad dykes, women her mother would have warned her about had the old lady the slightest inkling about her daughter's hidden desires. This isn't a good moment to think about Mother, she shook her head.

The crowd was a mixture of young and old women uncommon in the fancy places Gillian usually frequented. Many women were dressed in jeans, leather pants, and motorcycle jackets. Most drank their beer right out of the bottle, exactly the same as Sylvana. Gillian felt a pang in her chest at the reminder of her lover.

A wolf whistle echoed from the bar.

Gillian winced in response. This feels like walking into a group of horny teenage boys.

"Don't let them get to you." Skyler appeared beside her. "Most are tough on the outside but marshmallows on the inside. And they treasure a good-looking, classy woman like you."

Skyler gave her a light slap on the shoulder before she walked to a small table. A woman with muscles like Rocky Balboa greeted her. Is she even female? Gillian remembered the "women only" sign at the club's door. She must be, but why would a woman choose to look like that?

Cher's song finished. For a moment, only the soft, unintelligible chatter of many voices could be heard, then a woman in the tightest leather pants Gillian had ever seen got up from her barstool and went over to the corner jukebox. She threw money into the machine, and soon Cher started another song.

One of the women sitting at a table close by called loud enough for everyone to hear, "Hey, Sheryl, if I have to listen to Cher one more time I'm going to help you to your very own plastic surgery."

Laughter and hollers came from the bar. Gillian relaxed slightly, reassured by the good-natured banter. Torn between hope and anxiety, she started to look for Sylvana. Not seeing her familiar form at the bar, she turned to watch the couples swaying to Cher's Love Can Build a Bridge on the dance floor. Sylvana wasn't among them. Gillian clenched her fists against the sick feeling in her stomach.

She had walked halfway around the platform when she finally found the person she was looking for. All breath left her lungs. She felt as if someone had sucker-punched her right in the solar plexus.

Sylvana wasn't alone.

Not aware of anything else that was happening around her Gillian stared at the scene in front of her. This was one of her nightmares in Technicolor, only that what happened between Sylvana and the blonde on her lap wasn't a movie. The slut in a cheap excuse for a dress couldn't possibly get any closer without crawling into Sylvana's body.

She has already replaced me. Gillian leaned heavily on the back of a chair. Tears blurred her vision. She had tormented herself with pictures of Sylvana suffering from the pain she, Gillian, had caused. And here Sylvana was, playing cozy with another woman. Already. She obviously hadn't wasted any time with shedding tears over what happened.

All her plans of asking Sylvana for forgiveness, her hopes of reconciling crumbled to dust. There was no future for them. This was it.

"Did you think she would weep over you, Gillian?"

Gillian turned around and looked into the cold brown eyes of a woman with long blond hair. A woman she had never seen before.

"Excuse me?"

The stranger took Gillian's arm in a death grip and pulled her toward the bar. "Come over here before you make a fool of yourself or Sylvana. Sit down." The woman pointed at an empty barstool, then waved the barkeeper over. "Here, T, give us two Jack Daniels. Two fingers, straight."

"Got you covered, Janet." The barkeeper walked away to get their drinks.

"I don't drink whiskey, especially not with women I don't know." Gillian glared at Janet. She couldn't believe her insensitivity. "And don't you dare touch me again!"

Janet glared back at her. "What? Jack Daniel's too cheap for you?"

The bartender returned, setting shot glasses in front of them.

"Drink!" Janet said. She chugged down her own drink, then slammed the empty shot glass down on the bar.

Gillian didn't touch her glass. She brimmed with outrage. Sylvana might have crushed her hope but that didn't mean she would allow a stranger to push her around. The remains of her pride and dignity blazed alive. She stepped away from the barstool. "Who do you think you are?"

"My name's Janet. I'm responsible for Sylvana meeting you, which I deeply regret. So I'd say this is very much my business. Now drink up." Janet pointed at Gillian's full shot glass.

Gillian opened her mouth and closed it again. This is Janet, Sylvana's best friend? Shit. Her behavior made clear that she knew what had happened. Could this evening get any worse? Gillian sat down on the barstool. Ah, what the hell. She took the glass and gulped down the amber drink. The whisky burned a trail over her tongue and down her throat. She did her best not to grimace and failed miserably.

"Are you here to mock Sylvana?" Janet gave Gillian a warning look. "I saw you come with Skyler. Looks like you already found someone new."

"No, I… I'm not here with Skyler. I just met her outside. I came in to talk to Sylvana." Gillian hated how defensive she felt and sounded. I don't need to justify myself to Janet. She sat straighter, toying with the empty shot glass. "But that is none of your business."

"Talk to her? Now? Maybe you should have talked to her when your friends accused her of being a damn bulldyke hitting on a chaste housewife." Janet leaned closer, glowering at her. "Do you enjoy jerking people around?"

Every single word hurt like a slap in the face. Gillian bit back the sharp words that burned on the tip of her tongue. What good would it do to infuriate Sylvana's best friend? Staring at the row of bottles on shelves behind the bar, she desperately wished for another whiskey. But maybe it would be wiser to get drunk at home. She didn't have any reason to stay anyhow.

"What? Nothing to defend yourself?" Janet asked.

"If it was in my power to undo what happened, I would. But I can't." Gillian glanced into Janet's hard eyes. "I made a mistake, a mistake that I deeply regret, but I came here tonight to talk to Sylvana, to apologize for the hurt I've caused." She darted a glance at the table where the blond slut was still plastered to Sylvana like mold on marmalade.

Janet slapped a hand on the bar. "Tell me something, Gillian: what was Sylvana to you? Cause I really don't get it."

"She is, not was." Gillian hesitated, unsure how to explain what she hadn't put in words before. Love wasn't the right label for hours of hot sex and some good conversation, but "casual fling" wasn't true either. She had come to care a lot more for Sylvana than she expected. "I feel a lot for her. And I… I don't want to lose her." This much was the truth. Anything else would remain a painful dream, always ready to haunt her future.

Once again, her gaze was drawn to the small table where Sylvana and the blond slut played "easy to get" with each other. Gillian bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, but the minor pain didn't help dull the agony of betrayal she felt inside.

Everything she had thought important in her life faded when compared to the thought of losing Sylvana and what they had together. Neither her social status, her money nor her so-called friends were able to make her as happy as simply being together with Sylvana was. And what had she done? She had thrown away what maybe could have been. Gillian forced herself to rub the shot glass's rim with her index finger when what she really wanted to do was to throw the glass and see it smash into a thousand pieces, the way her heart felt right now.

"Seeing her with another woman… it hurts. A lot," Gillian said in a low voice, certain it was still loud enough for Janet to hear. And it hurts on a totally different level than hearing about Derrick's mistresses, she added silently, picking up the empty shot glass. "Can I have another one?" One more drink couldn't hurt.

Janet shook her head. "No, first you have to tell me how important Sylvana is to you."

"Very important." She had no idea why she even answered Janet's question.

Janet snorted. "Is that why you pretended not to know her?"

Gillian cursed inwardly. Hearing those words hurt nearly as much as reliving the painful minutes again and again in her memories. "She told you?"

"Yep, though I nearly had to beat it out of her."

The lyrics to Cher's Love Can Build a Bridge suddenly sounded like mockery. Gillian remembered her behavior with revulsion. But what had been the odds of meeting her blue-collar lover in one of Springfield's fanciest cafés? She felt the same depth of shame now as she had when she'd seen the pain on Sylvana's face, quickly shuttered but unforgettable, an image burned into Gillian's brain that haunted her awake and asleep.

"I panicked." Gillian's neck muscles tensed.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I panicked." The urge to get up and leave grew. There was no way Janet or Sylvana would understand. How could they when in hindsight she didn't understand her reaction back then?

"Why for God's sake? Did you believe Sylvana would hump you in front of your friends?"

Shame was replaced by a burning anger. "That is none of your business," Gillian snapped.

Janet leaned an elbow on the bar. "So what, Gillian? Did you believe coming here dressed to the nines in that little black number would be enough to make Sylvana crawl back to you?"

"No, I…" Gillian inhaled around the knot in her throat, "I only wanted to talk to her." She didn't need to tell Janet that she had indeed hoped that Sylvana might forgive her. That she had dreamed about them becoming maybe even closer than before.

Laughter echoed from a nearby table, distracting Gillian from her thoughts. A group of three women, each pierced in various parts of their faces, got up to leave. They oozed a raw sexuality that left no room for misunderstanding what they were up to.

Gillian felt out of her league. This wasn't her turf. Why have I come? This will lead to nothing. A heavy weight settled on her shoulders.

"I don't get you, Gillian. I really don't," Janet said, shaking her head. "But I have to give it to you…you have balls showing up here tonight."

"Yes, but that doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Gillian stared at her empty shot glass.

"You're serious about Sylvana?" Janet asked, arching an eyebrow. "I mean serious enough to grovel and beg and not do the same shitty thing again?"

"I would, but what's the point?" Gillian nodded at Sylvana's table. "She's found a substitute. Maybe this is just as well."

"Oh, come on, Gillian. Sylvana is as drunk as a skunk. And little Barbie over there is just hoping to get laid." Janet snickered. "It seems she's not aware that even Sylvana is in no shape to provide that kind of service tonight."

For a moment, hope blossomed in Gillian. She looked into Janet's brown eyes that had lost some of their coldness. "I'm not here to hurt her." She struggled for words, afraid to hope again. "Do you really think she's still interested in me?"

"Gillian, it doesn't matter what I think. The question is what you want."

There was no question what she wanted. "I want her, I want 'us' back."

A muscle in Janet's jaw twitched.

Gillian steeled herself against Janet's response.

"Are you ready to fight for her?" Janet held up a hand before Gillian could answer. "And I don't just mean tonight, Gillian. You always have to treat her with respect."

Days ago she would have answered "yes." Without any doubt. But life had taught her a painful lesson about herself. Truth was that she didn't have as much backbone as she thought. "I can only promise that I'll try my very best."

Janet's gaze became cold. Her eyes drilled into Gillian and caused her to shiver. "I can't say that I like you very much or that I understand her infatuation with you," Janet said. "And let me tell you one more thing: you hurt Sylvana again in any way and I'll kick your pretty ass from here over to your fancy place in the suburbs. But if she means half as much to you as you do to her… go over there and teach Barbie a lesson. Prove you're willing to fight for Sylvana."

Gillian stared at Janet, not sure if she understood the other woman. "I didn't think you meant fighting literally."

"Oh, please. Gillian, get over there before little Barbie hauls Sylvana home or before I rethink my decision of encouraging you." Janet pushed Gillian off the barstool. "Now!"

Before Gillian had a chance to respond, Janet turned her back and began chatting with the bartender, simply ignoring her.

A bubble of anger heated Gillian's belly, replacing the depression that had settled into the pit of her stomach earlier in the evening. As furious at Gillian felt about Janet's treatment, the other woman was right. She had to do something or risk losing Sylvana forever. If she left now, all would be over. If she fought for Sylvana… well, the worst that could happen was that she would make a fool out of herself.

It was worth a try. She didn't have anything to lose. Not anymore.

Gillian focused her attention as well as her anger on the table where the blonde was sticking her breasts-were those things even real?- in a clearly befuddled Sylvana's face.

Okay, that's it. No matter what happened next, she refused to stand here and watch this… this slut seduce her woman. She had to talk to Sylvana and see if they could sort things out, but first she had to stake her claim before it was too late.

She marched to the table and tapped the blonde's shoulder. The woman muttered an annoyed "What?" without turning her head.

"You're sitting on my lap." Vibrating with anger, Gillian loomed over the woman, who finally deigned to look at her.

Surprise was clearly written on the blonde's face. She looked Gillian up and down. "Are you crazy or what? Go find yourself someone else to bother." She held out one hand and wiggled her fingers in a good-bye motion.

"No, you go bother someone else. I am sure you'll find a woman here who'll be more than happy to fuck you all night long. Only not this one." Gillian pointed at a confused Sylvana, who seemed to be having a hard time keeping her eyes focused. "This one is mine, and if you don't get up, I'm going to perforate your little ass with my Manolo stilettos."

Laughter and comments from women at nearby tables made it obvious that they had an attentive audience, but Gillian was past caring. She had to keep going if she wanted to take Sylvana home and scrub the stink of another woman's perfume off her.

Her last comment seemed to have an impact since the blonde climbed off Sylvana, who didn't look happy about losing her new plaything.

"No, shday… well… we'll have fun… lods of…" She tried to pull the blonde back into her lap.

Jealousy and fury ate at Gillian until she trembled. She pushed the blonde out of her way and pointed a finger in Sylvana's face. "You listen to me. We are going home and we are going to talk. And if you want to have your girlfriend back after our talk, I am sure Ms. I Can Go All Night over there will be happy to welcome you into her arms. But tonight I'm the one calling the shots, understood?"

For the first time, Sylvana's gaze met hers. Gillian's heart nearly broke from the pain she recognized reflecting back at her, a pain that she had caused.

"I am so sorry, love," she whispered.

"Does it look like Sylvana wants to go with you, stupid?" Apparently not ready to cave in, the blonde stepped between Gillian and Sylvana, her move effectively breaking their eye contact. "What you want here is of zero interest to anyone," she said snottily. "You'd better try your luck somewhere else and leave us the hell alone."

Gillian gritted her teeth, trying to rein in her temper. Never before had she come so close to hitting someone.

She braced her hands on her hips, ready to use some of the obscene vocabulary she had learned from one or the other HBO series, when suddenly a strong, coffee-colored hand reached around Gillian to grip the blonde's shoulder.

"Roxanne," Skyler said, "why don't you try your luck elsewhere? Preferably now!"

Relief flooded Gillian's body. With a few pointed words Skyler had done what she could not. Giving them both murderous looks, Roxanne grabbed her purse and left.

"Wow." Impressed, Gillian watched Roxanne walk over to the bar. "One day I would like to know what kind of history you two have."

Skyler grinned. "A gentlewoman kisses but never tells. Anything else I can assist you with?"

Now that the fight was won Gillian wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't take Sylvana home with her. And the city apartment wasn't a good alternative. It wasn't stocked with any food or medicine. That left only Sylvana's apartment. Maybe that would be the best choice anyhow. Sylvana surely was going to feel not too well in the morning. Being in her home and her own bed would probably be the best thing for her.

"Could you help me get Sylvana into the taxi waiting outside?"

"Sure." Skyler bent down. "Come on, Sylvana. Don't let your lady wait."

"Shesch not my lady, no more." Sylvana shook her head.

The words cut razor sharp into Gillian.

Skyler chuckled. "Well, she seems determined to be your lady. And you know how these femmes are, right?" She whispered something in Sylvana's ear.

Gillian had never seen the tough butch Sylvana giggle like a schoolgirl. Whatever Skyler said, worked. A moment later Sylvana struggled off her chair.

Now she was really in Skyler's debt. But this would have to wait until another time. For now she had to concentrate on getting Sylvana home. The taxi driver's offer had become a real blessing.

Good-natured whistles and shouts accompanied them as they left the bar, Skyler supporting Sylvana on one side, Gillian struggling to keep up on the other.

Chapter 2

"Here we are, ma'am," the taxi driver said.

Gillian didn't want the ride to end and she surely didn't want to open her eyes. The length of Sylvana's body was pressed along hers, Sylvana's head cushioned on her shoulder. This moment felt so sweet, so wonderful, she didn't want it to end. With all her heart, she wanted to pretend a little while longer that this was reality. Maybe if she didn't―

"Ma'am?"

Gillian sighed, opening her eyes. Through the fogged taxi window on her right she saw they had stopped next to a little corner shop. She used her sleeve to wipe the window clean and groaned as she spotted a group of young men in front of the shop's entrance in a pool of light, pushing each other around like young coyotes fighting over a well-chewed bone. Great. Testosterone overdrive. Just what I needed to feel safe and relaxed.

With a forced smile, Gillian focused on the patiently waiting driver. "Thank you. I must have dozed off during the ride."

"Yeah, and you're not the only one. I guess you'll have to wake sleeping beauty there." He looked at Sylvana, who continued to snore in complete oblivion.

"Yes, I should." Though I really don't want to, she added silently.

Gillian took one of Sylvana's calloused hands into hers and squeezed it gently. "Hey, Sylvana. We're here. Time to wake up."

A smile played at the corners of Sylvana's mouth before she snuggled closer to Gillian.

At least she's not upset with me while she's still asleep. That however made waking Sylvana up even harder.

"Hello, sleepyhead." She paused. The thought of kissing Sylvana made her lips tingle. Feeling a sudden reckless urge, she decided she wanted to prolong this state of near bliss. Now could very well be her last opportunity for intimacy, even if the moment was a stolen one.

Gently, Gillian brushed Sylvana's hair back and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. A hint of bergamot and sandalwood teased her nose, a scent that reminded her of summer and the ocean. "This isn't your bed, honey. It's a taxi," she said. "You have to wake up."

Drowsy blue eyes opened a slit. Sylvana licked her lips and turned her head toward Gillian, obviously still caught in dreams.

Hot breath caressed the side of Gillian's neck, causing exquisite shivers to run through her body. She gasped when the warmth was suddenly replaced by wet heat as Sylvana began to nibble on her earlobe. Every nerve Gillian owned tingled with excitement.

The taxi driver cleared his throat, shattering the moment.

"What…? Where…?" Sylvana drew back and looked around, clearly disoriented.

A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made Gillian sigh. The tender trust which seconds ago had been mirrored in Sylvana's beautiful eyes was now replaced by a pained suspicion. Reality had clawed its way back into the moment. Her dream was over.

Sylvana flinched away from Gillian's touch, causing the leather upholstery to groan in protest.

"Sylvana, we're at your place. Do you think you can manage to get out of the car on your own?" Gillian's voice sounded rough to her ears.

"Shure…shure I can." The tip of Sylvana's tongue appeared in the corner of her mouth, and her brows knit together in deep concentration.

Despite the pain that scratched inside her chest, Gillian smiled. Sylvana's expression was a perfect copy of the one her son wore whenever he tried to solve a problem that was beyond his scope.

Letting out a grunt, Sylvana managed to open the door on her side, her momentum nearly causing her to fall out of the car.

Gillian grabbed the back of Sylvana's jacket. "Hang on there."

"I'll give her a hand." The taxi driver got out and managed to help Sylvana out in one piece.

Tension tightened Gillian's shoulders. She stepped into the light drizzle, thankful that the earlier downpour had stopped and so far Sylvana wasn't making too much of a fuss.

"Should we get her inside, ma'am?"

Sylvana leaned heavily on their driver's shoulder. He was at least a head shorter than her, but he had a sturdy, muscular build. Gillian knew she would have a hard time getting Sylvana inside without his help. Once again she had to rely on the kindness of strangers. First Skyler, now the taxi driver. "Yes, thank you."

After a minor struggle, the three of them finally stepped through the front door of the apartment building next to the corner shop. Gillian wrinkled her nose at the musty smell in the darkened hall, which reminded her of a damp, moldy cellar.

"I can't find the light switch here," the driver said. "It must be on your side."

Gillian reached out and touched something sticky on the wall. It clung to her fingers. For a moment, her imagination ran wild. Was it spit? Vomit? Blood? She gagged. Don't think about it! Don't think about it! she told herself firmly.

Determined to get on with it, she wiped her trembling hand clean on her coat before she continued her search. It felt like an eternity before she finally found a plastic switchplate and turned on the overhead fluorescents.

Harsh cold light that hurt her eyes splashed over concrete walls that an unknown artist had transformed with spray paint into canvases of aggression. Unrecognizable beings and letters melted together in perfect disharmony. Gillian shook her head. This was no graffiti art, she decided. It was either the testimony of an ugly childhood or simple vandalism.

Why on earth would Sylvana choose to live in a place like this? Was this one of the reasons why she had never invited Gillian into her home? Why they had always met at the city apartment? Surely there must be inexpensive places that were nicer.

You have to concentrate on why you are here. Gillian swallowed down her nervousness. "Sylvana, which floor do you live on, honey?"

"Am not your honey. You… you shaid so." Sylvana crossed her arms over her breasts, swaying in place a little.

"Sylvana, you're still my honey if you want." Gillian silently counted to five. "But let's talk about this later. We have to get you inside your apartment and into your bed first."

"Am not going to shleep with you. No shex for you tonight! I don't wanna." Sylvana shook her finger in emphasis.

Gillian's face grew hot. She cast a glance at the smirking taxi driver, who thankfully seemed more amused by the situation than anything else.

"All right, I got that," she told Sylvana. "Now tell me, what floor do you live on?"

"Shecond floor. But no sex!"

"All right, no sex for me tonight." Gillian wanted to bury her flaming face in her hands but instead forced herself to look at the helpful driver. As far as she was concerned, the sooner they made it to Sylvana's apartment, the better. "You've already done so much for me tonight and I don't even know your name."

He grinned. "My name's Joe, Joe Ingrellini."

Gillian returned his smile. "Thank you, Mr. Ingrellini. My name is Gillian Webber, and I can't tell you how thankful I am that we met tonight. Now, do you think you could help me one more time and take her up to her apartment? I'll pay you for your time, of course."

"Sure. Let's get the job done. I hope the elevator's working."

Gillian groaned. There was no way they could drag a drunken Sylvana up to the second floor. She almost fell to her knees in gratitude when the driver pressed the button, and the elevator door slid open.

Stale air hit Gillian. The elevator's metal walls had been attacked by the same graffiti artists who had done such a nightmarish job on the building's entrance hall.

Gillian couldn't imagine coming home every night to a surrounding so destructive and so unwelcoming. The longer the night dragged on, the more she became aware of how sheltered, how different her life was.

As if reading her mind Mr. Ingrellini said, "I've seen worse places, ma'am." He chuckled and pushed the button for the second floor. "This place isn't as nice as the ones in the area I picked you up today, but it isn't half as bad as others in town. I'd guess that it usually doesn't look like this." He pointed at the graffiti. "Maybe a tenant went crazy or someone broke in and caused this. Who knows."

The elevator rumbled alive, sparing Gillian from having to formulate a response. She had a hard time believing Mr. Ingrellini's words. On the other hand she felt like a snob. Her whole life she had lived in the suburbs, first in her parent's house, then with Derrick. Both houses had nice gardens, a clean appearance and alert neighbors. No stranger could remain undetected for long periods of time. It was a safe, if a bit constricting neighborhood. Everybody knew everything about everyone - or at least they thought so.

Gillian looked at Sylvana, propped against Joe Ingrellini's side, her head resting against the graffiti-sprayed elevator walls. Even with dark shadows smeared like bruises under her eyes, she looked beautiful. I wonder if she has problems sleeping? Gillian had hardly been able to close her eyes, much less sleep since the café incident. Every time she tried, Sylvana's face appeared in Gillian's dreams. The pain and betrayal written over it haunted her. Will she be able to forgive me? I don't know if I could if our roles were reversed.

The elevator stuttered to a halt and opened its doors under grinding protest.

Happy to escape, Gillian stepped out into a dimly lit corridor. Wow. Are we in another building? Sure, the walls could use a coat of paint and the linoleum floor a good scrubbing, but all in all it didn't look half as run-down as the entrance area. Maybe Mr. Ingrellini was right.

Gillian turned around to help get Sylvana out of the elevator.

"It's okay, ma'am, I think I have it under control." Ingrellini clamped his hand on Sylvana's elbow and steered her into the corridor. Behind him, the elevator doors stuttered shut.

"Which door is yours, Sylvana?" Gillian asked.

"There… s'hat one." Sylvana pointed to a door to the right.

"Okay, and do you have the keys?"

"Yup, shure, I do have keys." Sylvana nodded, patting her pants pockets.

Gillian felt her impatience mounting. "And could I have them?"

Sylvana's brow furrowed. She squinted at Gillian. "Why do shu … you want my keys?"

"To open the door." Gillian sighed.

Sylvana thought about this a moment before she fumbled for her keys and handed them over to Gillian. "But no shex," she added.

"Right, no sex for me tonight." Gillian rolled her eyes, grateful that Ingrellini didn't comment on Sylvana's ban on sex. She found the whole situation embarrassing enough without added comments.

Three keys hung on the key ring that Sylvana handed her. One looked as if it belonged to a car, which left the two others. Gillian tried the first one, and the door opened with a slight creaking noise from the stiff hinges.

She stepped into the apartment, this time locating the light switch without difficulty. Soft light revealed the living room right in front of her.

A black leather sofa that had seen better days dominated the space. The walls were painted a deep saffron, creating an overall warm atmosphere despite the spare furnishing. Only the flat panel LCD television hanging on the wall opposite the leather sofa was new and shiny.

If anyone had asked Gillian to describe Sylvana's living room, she wouldn't have been far off the mark. Over the past weeks, she had learned that her lover appreciated functionality over appearance, although Gillian had discovered there was another side to Sylvana that she kept secret in the beginning. She was tough on the outside but had a heart of gold and a genuine warmth that made Gillian feel safe, secure, and loved.

Swallowing hard around a knot in her throat, Gillian turned around just in time to watch Sylvana stagger into a room that adjoined the living room, leaving her alone with a chuckling Ingrellini. "I guess that's where my mission ends…right, ma'am?"

"Yes, I think I can manage from here. Though I can't thank you enough for your help tonight."

He beamed. "Ah, you don't have to thank me. This is a nice story to tell to my wife. She'll love it."

No doubt a lover's quarrel between two lesbians made for an interesting story. Gillian struggled not to say something disparaging.

"It reminds me so much of the time I was courting my wife," he went on.

Gillian couldn't hide her surprise.

"What, you don't believe that I was once young as well?"

"I do, but I don't understand…"

His eyes twinkled. "You see, my wife's family, the Pancinos, they owned two grocery stores when my Rosa and I met. They wanted her to marry the son of a family who owned a small business themselves. But Rosa, she had fallen in love with me, a simple laborer without any money." His smile grew wider. "It's a long story and to make it short: we married in the end, against all odds. We have been married over twenty-six years now." He took his car keys out of his jacket pocket, adding in his friendly way, "But let me tell you, the time between us falling in love and finally getting married was tough on my liver and on Rosa's soul."

Stunned, Gillian did not know what to say. He didn't want to tell his wife about two crazy lesbians but rather about two lovers who reminded him of what he and his wife had gone through. Did he have any idea how much his story related to her own situation?

"How…" Gillian broke off and cleared her throat as it threatened to close. "How did your wife manage to stand up to her family?"

His smile vanished. "It was tough, for sure. Rosa's family threatened to send her to Italy, and in return she threatened to run away if they forced her to marry someone she didn't love. She's one hell of a fighter, let me tell you," he said proudly. "I think one of the reasons why she fought so hard for us was that she had seen enough arranged marriages to know they weren't built on love and seldom found happiness. She told me she wanted to break that circle and she did. Our daughters are free to marry whomever they want. My youngest daughter's partner is a wonderful woman."

Ingrellini looked expectantly at her, but Gillian found she couldn't speak. So that was why he had been so helpful and understanding…one of his daughters was a lesbian. The solution of his story and of her life seemed so easy: Believe in and fight for love. Be open and honest about what you want. I'm not ready to believe in fairy tales though I really, really want to. She really needed some time to sort out the confusing tumble of thoughts and feelings swarming inside her. But first she had to do something else.

Gillien opened her purse and took out her wallet. "Mr. Ingrellini, how much do I owe you?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You've already paid me enough."

"All right." She handed him fifty dollars. "This is for a night out with your wife. I want you to take her to dinner. Just the two of you." She winked at him. "Make it a romantic evening."

The money in his hand seemed to weigh him down. "Ma'am, this is too much."

"No, it isn't. I don't know what I would have done without your help tonight."

He stared at the bills as if they might bite him. He sighed, finally looking at Gillian with the cutest boyish grin she had ever seen on a man with gray hair at his temples. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "It isn't often that I have such a lovely customer. I would love to take Rosa out somewhere else than her brother's restaurant. She'll be thrilled." He stuffed the money in his pocket. "I hope that the thing between you and your friend… well, I hope that you two… ah, you know what I mean."

For the first time tonight, Gillian laughed. "Yes, I guess I know what you mean. Thank you and give my best to your wife. She must be a wonderful person."

"She is. All right, then. It was a pleasure, ma'am. Have a nice evening."

Gillian closed the door behind him. The voices of arguing neighbors seeped faintly into the empty living room. Suddenly alone, she became aware how exhausted she was. Gillian leaned her back against the door. What a night, and it wasn't over yet.

She had left her home in the suburbs with the hope of finding Sylvana, talking to her and making up with her if possible. Afterwards, she had planned to go home, not spend the night in town. So much for well-thought-out plans.

So, what do I do now? One thing was sure: Right nowSylvana was in no condition for a chat.

Gillian rubbed her tired eyes. She felt torn. While she wanted to stay and make sure that Sylvana was okay a part of her feared that Sylvana was so angry with her she would throw her out or worse. She could call the police and accuse me of breaking and entering.

On the other hand, Gillian didn't want to leave Sylvana alone in her current state, knowing the woman would feel like hell when she woke up.

Staying away from home for the whole night didn't feel appropriate either. She had never been separated from the children more than a few hours whenever she met someone in town. Even her relationship with Sylvana had not changed this schedule, though leaving Sylvana behind had become more difficult lately.

Tilde could look after them. The Swedish au-pair had proven to be a reliable person. Gillian was sure Tilde wouldn't mind being alone with the children for one night. But would Sylvana want her to stay? It felt like an infinite loop in her head: stay or go, stay or go.

Frustrated, Gillian banged her head against the door behind her. Why couldn't she be seventeen again, carefree, without a family and the obligations that went with it? She rubbed her aching temples, knowing full well that these were childish thoughts. She loved her children and wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Still, tonight she felt as torn as never before. What am I going to do?

A quick glance at her watch showed Gillian it was already after 10 p.m. Her children should be in bed and asleep by now. Guilt gnawed at her. Was she a bad mother if she wanted to stay with Sylvana for one night? Did it make a difference that she wanted to stay to talk to Sylvana and repair their relationship, as opposed to the rutting and running that was her usual pattern?

It struck Gillian that she had seen neither hide nor hair of Sylvana after they entered the apartment. Assaulted by confusion, guilt, and a host of other emotions, she went to the room into which Sylvana had disappeared earlier and found her lying fully dressed on a king-sized bed in the center of the bedroom. Soft snores floated through the air.

Gillian crossed the distance to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, taking in the slow rise and fall of Sylvana's chest, the flutter of her eyelids, her strong features and full lips. Tempted, she reached out to lightly touch Sylvana's cheek before she carefully withdrew her hand again, tender feelings bringing a smile to her face. What you do to me…The power Sylvana already had over her life, over her heart made her dizzy.

All she wanted was to lie down beside Sylvana, hold her, and be there when she woke up. Gillian sighed. This wasn't the right time to give in to those feelings. Instead, she got up and took in the bedroom.

A framed poster of Georgia O'Keeffe's White Rose with Larkspur hung on one wall. Gillian had spent a long time in front of the original during her last visit at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. The painting was an exquisite capture of the infinite beauty of flowers and one of Gillian's favorites. She would have never expected to see something so fragile in Sylvana's bedroom. At the best I would have expected a black and white photo of a naked woman. She shook her head at the assumption she had made. There's so much I don't know about her.

She surveyed the rest of the bedroom. Three walls were painted in ivory, the fourth indigo blue, which contrasted nicely with the wardrobe whose front consisted of white glass and mirrors. If the living room was proof of Sylvana's more practical side, the bedroom seemed to reflect the softer side she hid so well most of the time.

Sylvana mumbled something unintelligible, catching Gillian's attention. Half tangled in the sheets and still fully dressed she surely couldn't be comfortable. Gillian could not leave her like that. It didn't take much effort to pry the black boots off Sylvana's feet. She put the boots down next to the wardrobe before she touched Sylvana's shoulder. "Come on, honey," she said. "You have to roll over on your side."

With a bit of effort Gillian finally succeeded in turning her over. It wouldn't do to let her lie on her back in case she threw up sometime during the night.

Gillian took the extra pillow and a rolled-up bedcover and put the items behind Sylvana's back to keep her in the same position. Glancing around the bedroom, she noticed the wastepaper basket behind a chair. She placed it on the floor beside the bed within easy reach. Just in case.

Carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, unable to stop herself from touching her sleeping lover, Gillian caressed Sylvana's soft cheek.

I don't want to live without you.It was true. She couldn't imagine going back to the kind of life she had lived before Sylvana, but at the same time, she couldn't imagine how a life with her could work. In addition, she didn't know if Sylvana was even interested in taking their relationship to a more serious level. Or if she was even able to forgive Gillian.

That wasn't all. There was another, even more important question niggling at her: how important did she want this to become?

A calloused hand wrapped around Gillian's fingers, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

"No shex!" Sylvana murmured.

Gillian couldn't help grinning. "No shex. Not tonight. I promise."

Obviously satisfied with the answer Sylvana began to snore again.

All right. We have to talk. No more running away from tough choices. I'm going to stay. Decision made, Gillian got up from the bed and with one last glance at Sylvana went back into the living room. She would stay with Sylvana - at least for the night. And then we'll see. If Sylvana was lucid enough in the morning to talk, fine. If she was so angry that she would throw her out - well, then I have to live with that.

Gillian removed her stilettos and sank onto the leather sofa before she took her cell phone out of her purse and dialed her home number.

Tilde answered on the third ring.

"Hello, Tilde. This is Gillian. I have to ask a favor of you."

To be continued in part 2