Wail of Sirens
Jill’s lesbian lover, Tommie, the “man” in her life, she joked, was stalking her. She was chain-smoking Kools down the street in her Ford pickup right now.
Yes, a lesbian cousin Eve was visiting Jill’s straight roommate Cassandra, and yes, Cassandra was at work because she was a ball busting investment banker trying to play hardball with the M&A crowd.
And yes, Eve was a lipstick lesbian like herself…and yes, Eve was beautiful in a Marilyn Monroe classic way…but she also was an out there screenwriter with several indie credits, and yes, yes, there was a definite frisson for Jill when Eve crossed the room, barefoot, a flowered tropical shift hanging mid-thigh revealed beautifully sculptured alabaster legs, coral blue toe and finger nails, thick blonde hair with a mane of luscious curls, and yes, a bosom to die for…
And yes, okay, Tommie sporting her purple Mohawk maybe didn’t have anything to worry about before the eruption of all those jealous rages, such horrid scenes, nights outside clubs, on sidewalks, in the cab of her truck, windows frosting with their grappling, and the long nights here when Cassandra was on the road, merging and acquiring. It was then Jill and Tommie went at it, no claws barred…and yes, this had also driven them apart…the ugly jealousy.
And yes….and oh no…there was the knock at the door…as Jill pulled away from Eve’s cherry lips, letting her lean back against the kitchen sink…
Jill saw it in a flash…lesbians wrestling for her on the front lawn and heard the neighborhood soundtrack, the wail of sirens, for which she would never make an apology.