ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

I Found My Heart In San Francisco (Book 3: Coalescence) by S X Meagher

Disclaimers:

General Disclaimer: I double-dog-dare you to prove that this piece infringes on anyone's copyright.

Plot (or lack thereof) Disclaimer: This piece is primarily a playful little honeymoon romp.  The entire book covers one week in the lives of two women in love.  If you need a lot of action or intrigue in your fanfic, give this one a miss.

Sex/Love Disclaimer: This book consists of the interplay between new lovers.  The main characters spend a lot of time in bed, gaining rather explicit knowledge of each other.  I can understand if you find it is not your cup of tea, but if you read it with the knowledge that you are the sensitive sort when it comes to sex, don’t come cryin’ to me.

Serial Story Disclaimer: This is the third story in a long series.  I highly recommend that you read the first two stories before this one.  You might well be confused even if you do so, but for God’s sake give yourself a fighting chance!

Warranty: My team of experts assures me that each and every physical expression of love depicted herein has been tested under rigorous field conditions.  Some assembly required.

Implied Covenant of Readability: If you are able to read this story without tripping over a dangling participle, the following generous, patient souls are responsible:  JTD; Day, the Wonder Woman; Natalie; MaryD and Stacia.

Acknowledgement: To the bards and the many readers of fanfic in the Xenaverse.  This is a very special community, and I’m grateful to be a part of it.

Dedication: As always, to my life partner and chief research assistant, Carrie.  Every part of my life is enhanced by her mere presence.

Feedback: To receive advance notice of updates, please join my e-group. SX_MeagherUpdates-subscribe@egroups.com.  This is an announcement ONLY list. 

I can be reached at sx_meagher@yahoo.com

Part 3

They rinsed separately in the shower, to avoid temptation, and then slipped on the terrycloth robes that Jamie pulled from the closet.  Jamie took her by the hand and started to walk towards the door, but Ryan wasn’t ready to leave quite yet. "How long have your parents owned this place?" she asked as she looked around the large rectangular room, trying to get a feel for her lover’s mark on this home.

"I think Mother bought it not too long after I was born," Jamie replied.

"Mother?" Ryan asked quizzically, tilting her dark head in question.

"Yeah, Daddy would never have bought a place like this," she admitted.  "But he’s really smart about things like that.  He knows she wants this type of thing, so he doesn’t interfere.  I really admire how he deals with her money.  I don’t think they ever have issues with it, and that’s saying a lot."

"Are you worried about that with us?" Ryan asked as she turned to lock eyes with her lover.

"A little bit," Jamie admitted.  "We haven’t talked about it at all, Ryan.  It is a pretty big issue, and I think we both need to feel comfortable with it."

"Why, Jamie?" she asked plaintively.  "It’s your money, and you can do whatever you want with it.  Why does it have to affect us?"

"It will, Ryan," she insisted as she wrapped her dark-haired lover in a hug.  "Trust me.  This kind of money changes everything," she said, rather sadly.

"Okay, Sweetie.  I don’t want to talk about it now, though.  Let’s just enjoy our honeymoon without getting into that, okay?"  Ryan turned to look around the room again, but she stopped and looked at Jamie with a little grin.  "Why am I doing this now?  I’m starving!"

Jamie laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door firmly.  "You can take a tour later; let’s get you fed."

They descended the stairs, hand in hand.  They passed through the two-story foyer, where they stopped to pick up their discarded shoes, then through the huge living room and a formal dining room on the way to a gleaming gourmet kitchen.  Ryan stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the massive room.  "Jamie, this kitchen is bigger than our living room and dining room put together."

Jamie looked around, slightly embarrassed by the opulence of her family’s second home.  "I guess it is a little ostentatious," she admitted.

"It’s not ostentatious at all," Ryan reassured her.  "Opulent, yes.  Grand, yes.  Elegant, yes.  Lavish, yes.  But not ostentatious."  She looked around the huge space as Jamie poked in the restaurant-style double refrigerator.  The house was styled as an English country estate, and the designer had done a masterful job.  The kitchen was a marvel of both design and utility.  Large leaded glass windows looked out over the interior courtyard, but not much of the waning twilight came in through the heavy fog.  Ryan walked over to the wall panel and flipped switches until she found the proper lights for the room.  The soft halogen glow accented the room perfectly, and in the flattering light the room looked even more perfect.  The walls were roughly divided in half, with the upper half covered in buff-colored wallpaper with a small print of dark green and maroon.  The lower part of the walls was finished in rich tan stones, about 9x15 each, set horizontally.  The stone looked a bit like limestone, and she noticed that it also covered the floors.  Its rough, uneven surface felt surprisingly good on her bare feet, and she noticed that it was slightly warm.  "Hey, Jamie?" she said, as she got down on her hands and knees.

"Yeah?" Jamie replied, as she took her head out of the refrigerator.  "Hey, where are you?"  She looked around the apparently empty room, seeking the owner of the voice that had called her.

Ryan’s head popped up from behind the large center island.  "Why aren’t my feet cold?"

Jamie laughed at the way the question had been framed.  "Because there is an under-floor heating system that goes on automatically," she replied.

"Cool," Ryan said as she got back to her feet.

Jamie just smiled at her and asked, "What are you in the mood for?"

"What are my choices?  Is there much in there?" she asked doubtfully.

"Just about anything that your little heart desires," she said with an eyebrow wiggle.

"But how...?"

"I called a service from your house this morning and had them stock the place.  I didn’t want to have to leave in case we were unable to move," she said as she gave Ryan a sexy little look.

"So you just let strangers come into a house like this and fill up your refrigerator?"

"Yep.  Pretty much," she agreed.

"That’s so odd," she mused.  "A multi-million dollar place like this, and you just treat it kind of casually.  Yet with our little house, we don’t even let the meter reader in unless somebody escorts him.  It just seems kinda backwards."

"Well, we are insured, Ryan," she said with a tilt of her head, wondering why this arrangement bothered her partner.

"That may be, Honey, but how do you prove the delivery boy stole your...I don’t know," she said in a frustrated tone, looking around for something that was obviously expensive.  Her eyes settled on a lovely small painting that hung on a nearby wall.  She jumped up and strode over to it, pronouncing, "your Monet...your MONET!" she cried, looking from her blushing partner and back to the painting several times.  "Is that real?!"

"Uhhhh...yeah," Jamie gulped, feeling very uncomfortable.

"You have a Monet in the kitchen!!!?"

A small nod was Jamie’s reply.  She fervently hoped that Ryan didn’t ask the obvious follow-up question and that her shocked partner wouldn't wish to investigate the rest of the collection.  To her relief, Ryan sat down heavily on her stool.

"This is...this is...different," she mumbled, obviously trying to come to grips with the Evans’ lifestyle.

"Okay, Hon," Jamie soothed.  "Let’s back up here for a second.  We don’t let just anybody in.  We’ve used the same service to stock the fridge since we moved here.  The owner of the company is the only one that has access to the house.  As a matter of fact, we trust him enough to have his thumbprint entered into the security system, same thing for the maid.  The gardeners and the pool man can’t come into any of the residence units, they just have access to the grounds."

Ryan was shaking her head, trying to understand her partner’s point.

"Does this all bother you, Ryan?" she asked carefully, rephrasing the same question she had asked earlier in the sunroom.

"No.  No.  It really doesn’t, Jamie.  It’s gonna take some getting used to, but it’s a real learning experience for me, and it’s actually kind of fascinating," she admitted.

"I know it’s a lot, Ryan, but you just let me know if you want to talk about any of it, okay?  I don’t want to you to be uncomfortable."  She turned to go back to the refrigerator, stopping abruptly on the way.  "Before I forget, let’s decide how we want the security system set up for the week."

"Uhh, what are the choices?" Ryan asked, unfamiliar with security systems of any kind.

"Well, everything is alarmed now, but since they put this new system in, the keys don’t work if it’s turned on.  Only my thumbprint will work, so if we leave it on you won’t be able to go into the various buildings without me."

Ryan’s chin was resting on her hands, and she blinked up at Jamie ingenuously.  "I’m not gonna let you out of my sight, Hot Stuff, so that’s not a worry."

"Not so fast, Tiger," she laughed.  "You don’t know what else we have around here."

"Tell me!" Ryan cried, always interested in investigating potential new playgrounds.

"Nope.  One thing at a time," Jamie insisted.  "I think we should turn off the alarms for the places that I know we’ll want to visit this week.  You can protect me, can’t you, Buffy?"  She gave her partner a helpless smile, blinking her eyes coquettishly.

"If somebody tries to break in, I’ll toss ‘em that Monet," Ryan laughed.  "That oughta hold ‘em."

"You do that, Buff," Jamie laughed.  She walked over to the display and pushed buttons for several minutes.  "I hope I did that right."

"You said this was new?"  Ryan walked over to the large display just as Jamie went back to the refrigerator.  Most of the labels for the zones were self-explanatory.  She noted and understood "main", "gar", and "pool", but she was confused by "gst" and "surv."  "What are gst and surv?" she asked, pronouncing the zones phonetically.

Jamie had her head deep in the refrigerator, and she called out, "Probably guest house and servant’s quarters.  I’ve never worked this keypad before, but that’s my best guess."

Hmmm, how can you have this much money and not know how to abbreviate servant?  Ryan thought to herself.  She quickly put that thought into the file she was mentally preparing concerning the idiosyncrasies of the very rich.

"You know, you still haven’t answered me.  Doesn’t ‘the beast’ need to be fed?"

"Yeah," Ryan agreed as she rubbed her empty tummy.  "Dinner or snacks?"

"Let’s do both," Jamie said decisively.

"I knew there was a good reason that I love you so much."  Ryan sighed with pleasurable anticipation.  She sat on a tall stool next to the center island and continued to look around while Jamie removed items from the fridge.  She spent some time trying to figure out what the counters were made of, finally asking, "Are these concrete?"

Jamie looked over and nodded, "Yeah, Mother had the kitchen redone just last year.  Those are polished concrete.  There’s a guy in the city who’s a real artisan.  He was down here for weeks making sure they were just perfect."  The counters really were perfect.  They were just about the same color as the floor, but they were polished to a very smooth finish.  It was cool and welcoming when Ryan rested her cheek on it.  "Hey, do you know what would be kinda cool on a hot day?" she asked with a little leer.

"I think I have an idea," Jamie smiled.  "But I don’t think that’s what Mother had in mind for her precious counters," she added.

"You never know, Jamie.  If she’s anything like her daughter...." Ryan left the thought for Jamie to finish as she cocked her head slightly.

"That’s an image I would prefer to flush from my memory bank, thank you."

"Does it bother you to think of your parents being sexual?" she inquired, genuinely interested in Jamie’s thoughts on the subject.  She guessed that Jamie did not know that her father was having an affair, but she wasn’t certain.  She had debated with herself long and hard before deciding not to tell her partner about seeing her father in the apartment, and she was still not 100 percent sure she had done the right thing.

"Um...I guess not.  I mean, I don’t think about it a lot.  Obviously I’m not around them much, but when I was younger, I got the definite idea that they enjoyed sex."

"What makes you think they enjoy sex?"

"I don’t think I noticed anything before I started to be aware of sex myself, like during puberty.  Once I started being able to read the signals, I would just notice that sometimes in the mornings they’d be all sweet and tender with each other.  Daddy would touch her a lot, and they’d kiss a little longer than normal before he left for work.  Mother would be humming or singing a little bit while she ate breakfast.  She just looked happy and satisfied," she said with a shrug.

"Do they still do that now?" Ryan asked, having reason to be skeptical about their continued ardor.

"Again, I’ve not spent a lot of time with them in the last three years, but I would have to say that the dynamic seems to have changed.  Mother doesn’t get up for breakfast anymore, and Daddy seems to work a lot more than I ever remember."  She looked at Ryan thoughtfully and said, "It just seems like Daddy’s married to his job more than Mother.  I don’t think sex is a big deal for them anymore.  Maybe it’s just because they’re getting older," she suggested.

"How old are they?" Ryan asked, now regretting pursuing the subject since she knew that Jim Evans still had a healthy, if misdirected, sexual drive.

"Mother’s 41 and Daddy will be 46 this year."

"Well, you had better still be throbbing when you’re 41, Hot Stuff," she teased.

"I’ll be hot for you when I’m 91," she promised with a grin.  "I can see you now, with a big shock of pure white hair and those clear blue eyes.  You’re gonna be the hottest nonagenarian around."

"With you keeping me young, I think we’ll both be pretty spry," she predicted.  Her attention was diverted as her hands ran over the wooden pedestal that the concrete counter sat upon.  "Hey, what do you call the finish on these cabinets?"

"That’s bleached oak," Jamie replied.

"Boy, Conor would love to take a look around this place," Ryan said appreciatively.  "Oh, I forgot to leave him a note asking if he wanted to come down on Saturday."

"Call him."

"I’ll call him tomorrow.  He’s probably not home from work yet, anyway," she replied as she started to fidget in her chair.

"You look like you need to get rid of some energy," Jamie said, immediately recognizing the signs.

"Well, I didn’t do anything all day," Ryan replied logically.

"You certainly did me!" Jamie laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I did, huh?"  Ryan blushed just a bit at the frank appreciation that lingered in her partner’s expression.  " I mean I didn’t do anything really strenuous."

"My answer still stands, Tiger.  I’ve got an idea.  You munch on these, and then go get some exercise while I make dinner."  She indicated the cheese, fruit and bread that she had assembled.

"Okay.  Should I blade or run?"

"I don’t think you should do either in this fog," she said, scrunching up her face in dismay.  "Don’t you see what it’s like out?"

Ryan walked to the window, unable to even make out the courtyard in the diffuse light.  "Your point?" she asked neutrally.

"You big goof!  Like I’d let you RollerBlade when you can’t see the hand in front of your face.  The road is about ten feet from a sheer cliff, you know!"

"Again, your point?" she asked as a smile began to curl her mouth.

Jamie shook her head and chuckled in frustration at her foolhardy lover.  "Do you swim well enough to get your cardiovascular workout in the pool?"

Her face broke into a smirk as she laughed at a private joke.  "Yeah, I can swim well enough," she said.  "But isn’t it a little cold?"

"Nope.  Finish your snack, and I’ll solve all your problems."

Ryan wolfed down the entire plateful of food, allowing Jamie one segment of an orange and a cracker.  She stood and stretched and followed her lover toward the back of the house.  They walked out through the butler’s pantry, past a mudroom, exiting through a Dutch door.  Ryan could hear the surf pounding in the background, but it was too foggy to see a thing.  They followed a steppingstone path towards a soft glow as they made their way across the lawn.  As they drew near, Ryan assumed they were going to a greenhouse of some sort.  The building was made entirely of glass, and she noted that it looked to be about 60 feet long but only 25 feet or so wide.  Jamie opened the wide sliding doors, and Ryan was stunned to see that there was a long lap pool, a Jacuzzi and even a sauna tucked into a corner.  Neither end of the building was glass, which struck Ryan as odd.  "What’s on the ends?" she asked, pointing to the nearest solid wall.

"Oh, there are separate apartments on each end of the building.  They each have two bedrooms, a kitchen and a small sitting room.  It’s really kinda cozy.  When I had Jack down here, that’s where we stayed."  This revelation caused her to look a little embarrassed.

"Jamie, don’t be embarrassed to talk about your relationship with him.  It’s part of you," she said understandingly.

"I’ll try," she said.  "But it just feels funny to talk about sleeping with someone else.  I just wish you were the only person who had touched me that way."

"Don’t think like that, Sweetie.  Every experience that you have prepares you for the next one.  Jack was an important part of your life.  If you hadn’t had sex with him, you might not have been open to having sex with me."

"I guess that’s true," she finally agreed.  Walking over to a door that led to a tiled bath and shower, she extracted a big fluffy bath sheet and placed it next to the pool.  "You don’t mind swimming nude, do you?"

"Mind?"  Ryan asked incredulously.  "I’d never wear a suit to swim in, if I didn’t have to."  She dropped her robe on a rust-colored wrought iron chaise that was covered in a buff-colored cotton duck material and jumped into the pool, being careful to tuck her legs up after she judged the water to be about four feet deep.  "Wow!" she said with glee as she stretched out in the water.  "This feels absolutely fantastic!"

"The water should be about 80 degrees.  That’s another big fight around here.  Daddy likes it at 77, and Mother likes it at 82.  So they’ve finally compromised," she said with a smile.  "Since we’re alone, you can change it if you want to."

"Nope.  It is just perfect," she said as she turned over and started to swim.  She smoothly stroked across the length of the pool, stopping at the end to execute a perfect racing turn.  She came up near Jamie and popped her head out, shaking the hair out of her face as the water cascaded down her body.  "This is absolute heaven," she enthused, as she tried to stay afloat.

Smiling at her friend’s pleasure, Jamie turned her thoughts to more immediate, practical concerns.  "I didn’t ask you what you wanted for dinner," she said.  "I could roast a chicken or grill some steaks, or I could make roast beef or..."

"You really did buy everything," Ryan laughed.  "Chicken sounds good to me.  Can you make mashed potatoes?"

"Of course I can make mashed potatoes," she said rather indignantly.  "Would you mind if I did something a little creative to them?"

"Nope.  I’ve yet to see you do anything creative that I didn’t like," she said with a leer.

"Umm-hmm," she nodded.  "Now will you be safe out here all by yourself?"

"Yep.  I’m very careful, and the water’s not very deep.  How many laps to a mile?"

"Well, the pool’s 50 feet long, so..."

"So, about 105 laps," Ryan said immediately.

Jamie stared at her open mouthed.  "How did you do that?" she asked incredulously.

"Do what?" Ryan asked, truly perplexed.

"How did you do that math so fast?"

"I don’t know.  It just seems obvious to me.  Doesn’t it to you?" she asked ingenuously.

"No, Ryan.  It is not obvious to me, or to most of the rest of the world.  You, my sweet, are just a little savant."

"I’ll take that as a compliment," Ryan grinned happily.  "Even though I have no idea what you’re talking about," she added as she dove under the water to begin swimming her laps.

Jamie had to stay and watch her for a minute.  She can swim all right, she marveled.  The sleek body slicing through the water mesmerized her, barely creating a ripple as she moved effortlessly.  Ryan ran through her whole repertoire of strokes, moving from crawl, to breast, to back and finally to butterfly.  That was the one that Jamie loved the best.  Ryan would burst through the water with a powerful surge, creating a massive explosion of sound with each stroke.  As her dark head exploded from the roiling water, she shot upwards just high enough to cause her breasts to peek out before she ducked under again.  She loved to watch the water sheet off of her head and shoulders as she shot upwards and slammed back into the clear blue water with a crash.  Jamie finally tore herself away after she watched her finish her butterfly laps.  When Ryan went back to the crawl, she left to begin dinner.

Ryan returned to the house nearly an hour later.  Her cheeks were bright pink and she glowed with vitality.  Her skin smelled vaguely of chlorine, but Jamie knew she had showered by the scent of her hair.  As she buried her nose in Ryan’s tresses, she thought of her Mother, who always used the wildflower scented shampoo that she kept in the pool house shower.  "Did you bring any other shampoo?" she asked as she pulled away.

"Yeah, I brought my usual stuff."

"Good.  You smell like my Mother, and I don’t think I need that psychological scar."

"Do you want me to go wash it out now?"

"No, I’m just teasing.  My Mother smells pretty good, actually.  It just caught me by surprise."

"You’re really no fan of hers, are you?" Ryan asked quietly as she sat down on a kitchen stool.

"It’s...it’s not that, Ryan.  I’ve spent a lot of time talking about her in therapy, as you might expect, and I’ve finally come to realize that I just don’t feel much love from her.  I think that I snap off sarcastic little remarks about her because it hurts me so much to feel that she just doesn’t care for me all that much.  I just wish she loved me like I love her," she muttered softly, as she turned to the sink.

This information hit Ryan like a blow to the chest.  She immediately regretted bringing the subject up as she saw the look of sorrow on Jamie’s face.  Rising from her chair, she crossed the kitchen and wrapped her strong arms around Jamie’s slight frame.  "If she doesn’t know how to love you, it’s her issue, Jamie.  You’re one of the most lovable people I know, and any emotionally healthy woman who was blessed to give birth to you would feel nothing but joy.  If she doesn’t realize how special you are, I feel nothing but pity for her," she said fervently, as she squeezed the small woman in her arms.

"I’ll probably overcompensate like crazy, but I’ve vowed that if I have a child, he or she will never wonder if they’re truly loved."  She sniffed as a few tears escaped.

"That will never be an issue for our children," Ryan promised as she made eye contact with her partner.  "And it will never be an issue for you.  I promise to show you every day how much you are loved."

"I’m completely confident about that," she agreed, as she hugged her one final time. 

They broke apart, and Ryan went back to sit down, "Wow!" she said as she saw the chicken roasting on a spit in the huge stone hearth.  "This is like being in the manor house, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," Jamie agreed.

"But I’d be the one cooking for you, Ma’am," Ryan said with a thick Irish brogue as she joked to lighten the mood.

"Oooh, I love that accent.  Can you do that for me when we make love?"

"Sure," she agreed amiably.  "I’ll be the little Irish scullery maid, and you can be the lady of the manor.  You can take me into the butler’s pantry and make me do unspeakable acts that’ll have me in the confessional for weeks."

"My, but you have a fertile imagination," Jamie purred as she came over to slip her arms around her lover.

"You bring out my wild side," the low voice rumbled in response.  They spent several minutes kissing lightly until Ryan finally asked, "What is that delicious smell?" as her nose began to twitch.

"I’m caramelizing onions," she said as she trotted over to keep an eye on her sauté pan.

"Can I help?" Ryan offered.

"Nope.  Just sit there and watch me work, "Jamie ordered.  "Would you like some wine?"

"Sure.  That would be good."

"The wine cooler is just behind the island.  Pick out something for us."

Ryan hopped off her stool and walked around the big island.  She noticed as she passed that there were doors on the other side of the island, right under the prep sink.  She leaned over and pulled open a door, quite surprised to find that it was a small refrigerator.  Next to that door were two drawers, also food chillers, obviously for vegetables.  "Pretty cool," she said, almost to herself.

She turned and opened the glass door of the wine cooler, getting down on her haunches to turn the bottles.  "Do you have any suggestions?" she asked.  "There’s some chardonnay, some white Bordeaux, some Ge..Ge..."

"Gewürztraminer?" her partner assisted.

"Uh...yeah, I think so," she said as she pondered the label.  "German’s indecipherable for me," she admitted.

"Yeah," Jamie smirked.  "This from a woman who can read Gaelic."  Thinking about the wine for a minute, she chose the Gewürztraminer.  "I think that’ll go well with the potatoes," she decided.

"Okay by me," Ryan said.  "I know as much about wine as I do about brain surgery.  No, check that.  I know a lot more about brain surgery than I do about wine," she admitted.

Jamie just smiled at her, privately thinking it adorable that Ryan really wasn’t very worldly.  Finally she asked, "Do you want to do our own cleaning while we’re here?  My parents usually arrange for a woman to come in every morning and clean, but I didn’t know if you would be comfortable with that."

"I don’t think I want someone in here while I’m making you squeal," she said with a twinkle.  "I think we can clean up our own mess."

"I thought you’d say that," Jamie said happily.  "I like it when I guess right."

Ryan had opened the bottle of perfectly chilled wine and went through the glass doors into the pantry to choose wine glasses.  The pantry was a marvel of efficiency.  Upper and lower cabinets lined the walls, and two full sized dishwashers bracketed a deep, wide sink.  A long gooseneck faucet hung from the wall, obviously so that deep items could be washed with ease.  All of the glassware, cutlery and china were kept in this narrow galley.  Long, wide drawers held the family sterling in felt-lined safety.  There was another small, waist-high refrigerator in here, filled with olives and cocktail onions and other ingredients for mixed drinks.  A large commercial icemaker hummed in the corner.  Ryan looked inside and saw that it had two separate compartments, one for cubes and one for crushed ice, and she smiled at the thought of indulging her penchant for chewing crushed ice.  She finally chose two wine glasses decorated with an elaborately etched "S" and picked up the matching silver ice bucket, placing the bottle inside.  Then she filled the remaining space with crushed ice and wrapped a bar towel around the neck of the bottle.  She returned to the kitchen to take her place at the island and watch Jamie cook.

"Where do you want to eat?" Jamie asked.

Ryan looked around again.  The island was large enough so that at least six people could sit around it and be comfortable.  However, there was a more traditional eating area at the far end of the kitchen.  Six barrel-style wooden chairs upholstered in deep, warm brown leather surrounded a round table.  The table lay right below a wide bay window with a window seat decorated in a bright green print.  The other wall hosted a large, deep fireplace stacked with split firewood.  This area appealed to Ryan immensely, and she indicated her preference to Jamie.

"Why don’t you start a fire?" Jamie asked.  "Do you know how?"

"Harrumph!" Ryan muttered.  "What kind of scullery maid can’t start a decent fire?" she asked in her Irish accent.  "My people have been lighting fires with nothing but peat for a thousand years!"

Jamie just laughed at her antics and watched her expertly place some kindling at strategic points between the logs.  She stuck her head up inside the hearth to check the flue, satisfying herself that she had opened it properly.  She lit one of the giant matches lying near the kindling and watched the fire slowly flicker to life, then stood watching the flames for a few minutes, thoroughly satisfied with her accomplishment.

After a bit, she walked back over to her stool and sat down to watch her partner finish dinner.  Jamie was just starting to roughly mash the potatoes.  She hadn’t skinned the potatoes, and when they were the consistency she wanted, she added some chopped arugula and the caramelized onions.  She stirred it all together and spooned them into a serving bowl, adding a handful of the onions to the top of the dish.  Ryan’s mouth watered as Jamie set the bowl in front of her.  "Would you put that on the table, please?"  Ryan did her bidding as the smaller woman expertly removed the chicken from the rotisserie.  She placed it on a carving platter and handed it to Ryan when she returned.

Jamie then went into the pantry to fetch plates and silverware.  She brought everything over to the table as she stopped to compliment Ryan on her fire-lighting prowess.  Ryan grinned up at her as she removed the plates from her arms.  She quickly set the table as Jamie poured the wine.  When everything was set, Jamie carved the chicken, piercing a breast for Ryan and setting it on her plate.  She took the other half breast for herself, knowing to take it right away if she wanted it, since it wouldn’t last long with her lover at the table.  Ryan spooned generous helpings of mashed potatoes on each plate, and when she finished, she grasped Jamie’s hand.  "Thanks for making such a nice dinner.  It’s hard to believe that with all of your other talents you’re such a good cook, too."

"I like to cook for you, Ryan.  It’s another way of expressing my love for you."  That merited her a kiss, which Ryan tenderly delivered.

They sat up and began to eat, with Ryan reverting to her usual histrionics.  Jamie absolutely loved to watch her eat.  It was like watching a microcosm of her entire personality.  She was thorough, inventive, playful, and sensual all at once.  She used all of her senses to their limits, and this caused Jamie to put extra care into both her cooking and the presentation of the meal.

To say that Ryan loved the potatoes prepared in this manner would be a significant understatement.  When she had finished her first helping, she spooned another very generous portion onto her plate.  Jamie hurriedly grabbed a small extra bit for herself, as she could see where the trend was headed.  Ryan was working on her second leg and thigh when she smoothly moved the serving bowl next to her plate.  "Saves time," she said with a grin as she began to eat directly from the bowl.  When she had thoroughly cleaned the bowl, she eyed the tiny spoonful still resting on Jamie’s plate.  One raised eyebrow caused Jamie to relent.  She scooped it up with her index finger and popped it into Ryan’s mouth, receiving a sensual little suck as payment.

"You are such a delight to cook for, Ryan," she said with appreciation as they cleared the table.  Ryan was eyeing the one remaining wing as Jamie began to toss the carcass away.  "Sweetie, you’ll be sick if you eat any more," she cautioned.

"Okay," she agreed glumly.

"I’ll make it up to you by making you a really special treat for dessert," Jamie tempted.

"What?" Ryan’s eyes went wide with the thought of dessert.

"You’re gonna have to wait and see.  I couldn’t think of eating dessert yet, and you’re not going to get all of this," she threatened menacingly.

"Okay, I’ll wait," she agreed happily.  "But you have to sit right there and let me clean up."

Jamie took up her post and watched Ryan methodically clean the entire kitchen.  When she was finished, every utensil had been returned to its home, every bowl and plate was clean and every gleaming pot was hanging from the pot rack.  They walked back to the dining area and sat down on the window seat.  Ryan leaned back against the side wall of the unit with one leg raised so that her foot rested on the cushion.  Jamie snuggled up between her legs with her head resting on Ryan’s chest.  They sipped their wine as they sat in peaceful silence for a long while.

Jamie broke the stillness when she quietly said, "I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful this afternoon was, Ryan."

"You did seem rather pleased," Ryan teased.  "Tell me how it felt for you."

"Well, the physical sensation was incomparable.  I’ve never had more than one orgasm in a day, much less an hour," she said as she turned her head to smile at her lover.  "You just seemed to know my body so well.  Clearly better than I do," she admitted wryly.  "You knew just how to touch me.  It almost seemed like I was touching myself, it felt so right.  But that element of surprise that you get from someone else made it obvious that it wasn’t my hand."  She lifted Ryan’s left hand and kissed it gently, pausing just a moment as she detected a lingering scent.  "Is that me?" she asked in surprise.

Ryan lifted her hand up and sniffed it.  "Yep.  Nice, isn’t it?" she asked seductively.

Jamie blushed deeply as she fumbled for a response.  But Ryan intercepted her.  "Hey, Sweetie, does that embarrass you?" she asked gently.

"Um...yeah, I guess it does," she admitted.  "I guess I’ve never smelled my scent on anyone before."

"Well I absolutely love it," Ryan intoned solemnly.  "I almost didn’t want to go swimming because I thought it would all get washed off.  It’s like I’ve got you with me every moment."  She lifted her hand again as she moved her fingers in front of her face.  "I must have done this 20 times while you were cooking dinner," she admitted.

"That’s what you were doing!" Jamie laughed.  "I saw you keep closing your eyes and sniffing your fingers.  I didn’t have a clue what you were doing!"  She shyly lifted her own hand and tried the experiment.  But no matter how hard she tried, she could not pick up Ryan’s scent.  "Why doesn’t it work with you?" she finally asked.

"You didn’t have your fingers in me for as long," she said softly.  "But we can rectify that later."

"Oh, don’t worry, Tiger.  I’m gonna have your scent on me from head to toe."

Now it was Ryan’s turn to gulp audibly as Jamie burst into laughter.

"Ryan," she continued thoughtfully after a moment.  "The amazing thing about this afternoon was the way I felt inside."  She searched for words for a few seconds before she continued.  "I just felt like I was home.  Finally at home."  She turned her head slightly as Ryan found her lips and painted gentle kisses on them.

"Welcome home, Sweetheart," she whispered as a tear escaped down her cheek.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

After a long while Jamie sat up and offered, "Dessert?"

Ryan just nodded enthusiastically as she scooted off the window seat to join her partner in the kitchen.  Jamie began to assemble all of her required components.  She pulled out a nifty copper double boiler, various mixing bowls, graduated measures, spoons and a copper teakettle.  She poured water in the kettle and set it on the stove to boil.  Then she went to the pantry and pulled down white sugar, corn syrup and rum.  She looked around the pantry and finally found the critical ingredient: Scharffen Berger unsweetened chocolate.  Passing by the refrigerator, she pulled out the sweet butter then set everything on the counter by the stove.

She handed Ryan the block of chocolate and instructed, "Use this heavy knife and shave off some chocolate.  I need four ounces."  She handed Ryan a precision scale and went back to preparing the rest of the ingredients.  When she turned back around, Ryan was just about done, but a sour look clouded her face.  "You ate some, didn’t you?" she asked sagely.

Ryan wrinkled up her nose as she nodded her head.  "That’s like letting a baby play with a gun," she accused.  "You know they’re gonna pull the trigger."

"I’m sorry, Sweetie.  I should have told you it was unsweetened."

"Blaaach," was all that Ryan could get out.

Jamie went through the process of preparing the taste treat, working quickly until it was at the boiling point.  Ryan leaned over and inhaled the rich scent, looking like she was going to stick a finger in to taste it.  "That’s boiling hot, Honey," Jamie reminded her. 

"Is it ready now?" Ryan asked, looking up with hope-filled eyes.

"No, Baby.  We have to let it boil for nine minutes."

"Nine minutes!" Ryan cried in outrage.  "I can’t wait nine minutes!"

"You're gonna have to, Honey," the stern cook insisted.  She picked up Ryan’s hand and looked at her watch.  "Tell me when it’s nine o’clock.  And not a minute before."

Realizing that arguing would do no good, Ryan ran hot water in the sink to clean up while they waited.  At precisely nine p.m., Jamie pulled some vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer and scooped it into bowls with an ice cream blade.  She poured a tiny tablespoon of rum into the fudge and stirred it thoroughly, then spooned the fudge over the ice cream as Ryan watched from inches away.  Her playful partner constantly nudged her pouring arm, and she wound up putting more sauce than ice cream in her bowl.  They sat down at the counter and dug in.  Ryan moaned and groaned and generally made more noise than she had when climaxing.  Her face was deep in the bowl, licking every molecule away as Jamie laughed at her.  Finally she lifted her head and said seriously, "Do you mean to tell me that making the best hot fudge in the world is that easy?!!!"

"Yep," Jamie replied.

"Is Scharffen Berger a publicly traded company?"

"I’m not sure," Jamie replied.  "Why?"

"Buy!  Buy!  Buy!  Cause their sales are gonna skyrocket now that I know about them," she predicted.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

After Ryan cleaned up the few remaining dishes, they went back to the window seat.  This time, Jamie reclined on her side, still nestled up between Ryan’s legs.  They chatted and kissed and just reveled in the joy of being together.

"Babe," Ryan spoke up after a while.  "I’ve been thinking about these earrings," she said contemplatively.

"Are you uncomfortable wearing them, Honey?"

"No, not at all, but I hate to take them from you since they have so much family meaning.  Tell you what," she offered.  "I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll wear one, if you’ll wear one," she said as she fastened one perfect diamond in her lover’s ear.

"I’ll make you a deal back," Jamie negotiated.  "Let’s go have another piercing higher on our ear lobes.  That way I can still wear another pair of earrings."

"Deal," Ryan said.  "But are you sure you want the piercing to be in our ears?" she asked seductively.

"Positive!" Jamie replied firmly.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

After a few more minutes of slow kissing, they slowly made their way up to the bedroom.  "Do you need anything to sleep in?" Jamie asked her partner, after they had each finished in the bath.

"Just your arms," Ryan said as she gave her a shy smile.  Jamie happily granted her wish.  As she lay on her back with Ryan pressed up against her side, she bent her head to kiss her lover goodnight.  "This day surpassed all of my hopes and my dreams, Ryan.  Thank you for being so patient and loving with me."

Ryan just gazed up at her fondly.  "I love you completely, Jamie."  Reaching over she grasped her hand, laying it above her left breast.  "I love you with my heart, and with my body."  She pulled her head down to place a deep kiss on her lips, "and most of all, with my soul."

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

Years of habit urged Ryan’s senses to come to life just after six a.m., and it took a moment for her to orient herself to the strange environment.  The light in the room was wrong, there was no window over her head, the bed felt much more firm than normal, and the air smelled funny.  The strangest sensation was that the entire front of her body was chilled while her back felt overly warm.  Nevertheless, a peaceful lassitude seemed to permeate her entire being.  She was lying on her right side, and her left hand slid down her body to confirm that it was cool to the touch, unclothed and uncovered.  Reaching behind her, she immediately identified the source of both her external discomfort and her internal peace.

Her beloved was snuggled up against her back, their bodies touching from shoulders to toes.  A turn of her head confirmed that Jamie’s head shared her pillow, golden hair mussed attractively against the sweet-smelling cotton pillowcase.

As her eyes acclimated to the dim light, she realized why her chest was so cold; her greedy partner had stolen every thread of sheet and blanket during the night, and the majority of both were now lying uselessly on the left side of the bed.  How did she manage that?  Ryan smirked as she realized that only the far right edge of the covers was wrapped around her small partner.  I’m gonna have to lay down the law pretty quick on that little quirk.  It’s bad enough to steal them---but to steal them and toss them aside is unacceptable! 

She spent a moment reveling in the sensation of having her naked partner touching her so intimately, and then realized that she was too cold to enjoy it.  She reached across Jamie’s body and tugged both sheet and blanket back to their rightful places.  Mmmm, that’s better, she sighed peacefully.

A sense of warm satisfaction flowed through her body, but a tiny little voice asked if she should not be up preparing for her morning run.  Yeah, right, she scoffed.  I’m nuts, but I’m not that nuts!  Besides, she thought righteously, I’m sure my heart rate will be up in my training zone before the end of the day.

That thought caused her body to slowly begin to tingle, and she allowed her hips to twitch, creating a nice little tickle where Jamie’s neat blonde curls met her always-sensitive butt.  Oh yeah, she sighed.  As soon as that little vixen opens those green eyes, we’re gonna get busy!  Once her body began to anticipate the contact, her mind couldn’t relax.  Taking advantage of Jamie’s sound sleep pattern, she slipped out of bed, thoughtfully tucking the covers around the small body to make up for the loss of heat.  She stood by the bed for a moment to make sure that her partner didn’t stir, and when she was satisfied that she was still out cold, she grabbed the robe from the previous day and left the room.

I could shower in our room, but I don’t want to wake Sleeping Beauty, she thought as she walked along the long hall.  One of these doors must lead to a guest room, she mused as she opened several: first, a large closet; then, a workroom of some sort; and finally, a spacious guest room, complete with bath.

The room was fully prepared for a surprise guest--fresh towels on the gold-toned towel bars, two more folded upon the counter, bath soaps, shampoo and conditioner--all awaiting use.  Ryan slid the trackless glass door open and hopped into the fully tiled enclosure, adjusting the temperature to her liking.  She spent several minutes letting the warm spray invigorate her, then cleaned her body and washed her hair thoroughly, adding some conditioner as well.  When she was finished, she noticed a small plastic-handled squeegee that she used to clean the water droplets from the shower doors.  I bet the maid bought those with her own money, she smirked.  It could take a woman all week just to clean the bathrooms this place must have.

When she emerged from the enclosure, she looked in the mirror and noticed a professional quality hair dryer on a shelf behind her head.  It took a moment to figure out how to use the monster, but once she got it hooked up, she decided that she needed one for herself as soon as possible.  The powerful blower removed every trace of water from her long black hair in just a few minutes, at least five times faster than her home unit.  The force of the air had been so strong that her hair was full and straight, even with the foggy, damp air that shrouded the house.  Got to get me one of them, she mused, but then realized, that probably costs more than I make in a day!

Well, she said to herself as she left the guest room, I’m clean and lookin’ for love, but I’d better get a little something to eat before I indulge in that pleasure.

Making her way downstairs, she spent a few minutes reviewing the foodstuffs that Jamie had ordered.  Awww, isn’t that cute?  She got Mc Cann’s Irish Oatmeal for me!  She wasn’t in the mood to spend 20 minutes stirring the slow-cooked oats, so she opted for a couple of bowls of corn flakes, made more interesting with the addition of fresh strawberries, a whole banana and a handful of blueberries.  A glass of fresh orange juice and another of milk had her fully prepared for whatever the morning would bring, and she was just about to rise from her stool when a pair of arms encircled her waist.

"Good morning."  A sleepy-sounding voice floated past her ear.

"Good morning to you," Ryan responded, as she turned and kissed the adorable face that smiled up at her.  "Sleep well?"

"Yeeeeah, I suppose I slept as well as most people who’ve been hit on the head with an anvil," Jamie giggled.  "Ooh, I shouldn’t say that around you," she amended as she playfully covered her mouth with her hand.  "You’ve probably had that happen."

"Naaah, I’ve escaped that one, but I’m still young...give me time."

Jamie was wearing her robe from the previous day, but she had not yet showered.  "Want some breakfast?" Ryan asked her hand dropping to undo the tie that held the garment closed.  Her questing hand slipped into the robe and tickled smooth skin as her other hand tangled in Jamie’s hair and pulled her head close for a kiss that carried a clear message.  "Or do you need a little love before you eat?" Ryan asked in a desire-filled voice.

"Umm..." Jamie said, stumbling a little as she stepped away from the embrace.  "I uh...I actually thought that we might get an early start and play some golf."  She refastened her robe and walked to the refrigerator, removing the orange juice from the door before turning back to Ryan for a reply.

GOLF?  Ryan’s brain screamed.  She wants to play GOLF?  One day of lesbian love, and she’s joining the L.P.G.A!?  The dark-haired woman was doing her best to keep her incredulity from showing, and she must have done a decent job because Jamie calmly asked, "Is that okay?"

"Ahh, sure...whatever you want, Jamie," she heard herself say.  "This should be a vacation for both of us, so we should each get to do what relaxes us."  I know what relaxes me! she grumbled to herself, but prudently decided that she needed to tread carefully with her less experienced partner.

"Well, we can do something else, if you want," Jamie said with a little hesitation in her voice.  "Is there something you wanted to do today?"

"Nothing that we can’t do later," Ryan replied honestly.  Okay, she reminded herself.  She told you that she didn’t like it when Jack wanted to jump on her first thing in the morning.  Maybe she’s just not a person that wakes up horny.  You did drain her tank yesterday, you know.

"You sure?" Jamie asked again, now sounding less sure of herself.

"Positive.  Let me make you some breakfast while you get showered, okay?"

"Okay," the fair-haired woman replied.  "I’ll call and get us a tee time, and then go get ready.  You’re really going to love this course, Honey," she said, her enthusiasm beginning to grow.  "It’s absolutely lovely."

"You’re the loveliest thing I’m going to see all week."  Ryan’s usual lovesick gaze settled on her lover.

"I’m never short of compliments with you around, Sweetheart."  Jamie smiled as she kissed her on the cheek.  "Make me a third of what you had for breakfast.  I’ll be back in a few."

Ryan chuckled at the departing form and proceeded to fulfill her partner’s request.  Jamie, however, was a little slow, so a major portion of her breakfast had to be re-made since the cook had consumed it.

"You are a bottomless pit!" Jamie laughed as her partner scrambled to replace the meal.

"Hey, you drained a lot of calories from me yesterday," Ryan said with mock defensiveness.

"Yeah," Jamie said without elaboration.  "Why don’t you get dressed, Honey.  I made us a 7:30 tee time."

"Okay," Ryan said warily as she left the room.  Something’s up with my sweetie, she thought as she climbed the stairs.  I’ll give her a little time today to talk about it, but if she doesn’t, I’ll pry it out of her when we get home.  I need to clear the air, so we can get to my favorite relaxing activity!

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Since the day was warm and dry, they had both dressed in shorts.  Ryan wore the white shorts from the day before, but with a navy blue polo shirt.  Jamie had found some golf clothes in her closet and she chose a pair of black and white hound’s-tooth shorts with a white polo shirt.  The shirt had a small band of the checked material around the edge of the collar and sleeves.  After she fetched her I.D. and the key to her locker, they grabbed the spare set of clubs that Jim kept for guests and took off for the very short drive to the course.

They pulled up in front of the links with a few minutes to spare, then ran into the pro shop where Jamie was greeted warmly by one of the assistant pros.  After she chatted with him for a moment, she introduced her partner.  "Ryan, this is Chip Mahoney.  He’s my favorite pro here at the club."  Chip was just a few years older than Jamie, Ryan guessed.  He was very cute, in a boyish sort of way, and he seemed quite fond of Jamie.  They teased each other about their games, and when Jamie told him they were set to tee off, he ran over to check the log.  "Hey, Jamie," he said quietly, when he came back over.  "They’ve got you with some hotel guests.  Why don’t I slide them to the next twosome, and I’ll play with you?"

"I’d really like that, Chip.  Is that okay with you, Ryan?"

"Sure," Ryan replied, just a tiny bit disappointed to have to share her lover with another person.  "As long as Chip doesn’t mind playing with a rank beginner."

"Most of the people I play with are rank beginners.  Not many of them think so, of course," he laughed.  "I’d be happy to give you some tips, Ryan.  Actually, why don’t I just tag along and give you a playing lesson.  I want to see how Jamie’s game is progressing and I can’t do that if I’m playing, too."

"Sounds great to me," Ryan said.  "I can use all the help I can get."

Jamie noticed that Ryan had not brought her glove, so before they left the building, she went up to the register and asked for a Cadet medium in navy blue.  She came back over and tossed it to Ryan, giving her a subtle little wink.  Ryan grinned as she caught it and winked right back.  Jamie had to run to the locker room to grab her shoes, so Ryan and Chip went out to wait by the first tee.  He spent a few minutes giving her some advice on good warm up exercises.  She nodded and humored him by following his advice, stretching slowly with a golf club to limber up.

"So, you’re a friend of Jamie’s from school?" Chip inquired, somewhat absently.

"Yeah, we met at school last September," she replied easily.

"Um...I heard that she broke up with her fiancé," he asked tentatively, stealing a glance at the clubhouse door to check for Jamie.  "Is that true?"

"I don’t think she would mind my confirming that," Ryan said, waiting for him to get to the point.

"Umm... do you know if she’s ahh...seeing anyone?"

Fighting her urge to insert her driver into his gullet, Ryan replied, "Well, I don’t generally like to talk about my friends when they aren’t present, but I think you could safely say that she’s seeing someone seriously.  Very seriously," she added with a warning glance.

"Ahh, darn," he said as he kicked a clod of dirt.  "I knew if I waited for her to come down here, she’d be taken.  I should have called her in Berkeley."  He looked up at Ryan with his crestfallen face.  "She’s really great, isn’t she?"

"She’s extraordinary," Ryan informed him with a confident smile, feeling a tiny bit sorry for the poor fellow, knowing that he would never have confirmation of just how extraordinary her partner was.

He stood back for a second and really looked at her, seemingly for the first time.  "You look like you’re in pretty good shape, Ryan.  Do you work out?"

"Yeah, I stay pretty active," she replied without elaboration.

"So, how often have you played?"

"Jamie took me once, and I’ve been to the driving range about six or seven times with my brother.  I played a full course three times with him, so I’d say my answer is, not very often," she laughed.

Jamie came jogging over to them just as they were called to the tee.  Chip watched her run over and said to Ryan, "Jamie looks like she’s in really good shape, too.  What are they putting in the water up in Berkeley?"

"I’m not sure, but I’m betting there’s a citizen’s committee being formed to stop it."

He didn’t really get her joke, as his attention was focused more on Jamie than Ryan by this time.  He watched her warm up with a few practice swings, finally commenting, "Did you always have those muscles?"

"Which muscles are those?" Jamie inquired innocently, batting her eyes at the compliment.

"Well, all of them," he said as he looked her up and down.

"You can give Ryan most of the credit for these babies," she said, as she flexed a bicep.  "She’s my trainer."

"You’re a trainer?" he asked, as he turned to look at Ryan.

"Uh-huh." She nodded, narrowing her eyes at the appreciative looks he was giving her lover.

"Well, you’ve done a wonderful job with Jamie.  She looks great," he said with altogether too much enthusiasm for Ryan’s tastes.

"I’d have to say that Jamie played a small role," she commented slowly, wondering how long this assessment would continue.

They flipped a coin for honors, and when Jamie won, she placed a ball on the tee and took a practice swing.  She then addressed her ball, settled her weight evenly between her feet, and pulled the club back smoothly and powerfully.  She whipped the club through the hitting zone with surprising speed, driving the ball a good 275 yards, drawing it slightly to the left.

"Wow!" said Chip, clearly impressed.  As a smiling Jamie walked back toward him, he reached up and squeezed her bicep, shaking his head as he said enviously, "I want a trainer."

Ryan was up next, and she, too, took a few practice swings before she felt loose.  She teed the ball up and set herself.  She tried to clear all of her swing thoughts from her mind, focusing only on two: Jamie’s admonition to imagine sweeping the ball off the tee, and the image of Chip’s head resting in place of the ball.  She did just that, hitting it straight and true.  She landed well back of Jamie’s big drive, but she was very pleased, nonetheless.  "I’m glad I’m not playing," Chip admitted.  "You two would beat the pants off of me!"

As Ryan got in her cart she smirked to herself.  Dream on Chip.  Nobody around here is ever gonna see you with your pants off.

Chip had his own cart, and he drove up to Ryan’s ball.  Hopping out, he gave her a few pointers, and both were pleased with her second shot.  "Excellent, Ryan," Chip enthused.  "Are you sure you’re just starting?"

"Yep.  Wait ‘til you see me putt," she warned.

She hopped back in the cart, returning Jamie’s beaming grin.  "You are such a stud," the small woman giggled as they drove to her ball.

"Look who beat me by 90 yards," Ryan replied, as she playfully felt Jamie’s bicep.  "This reminds me," she said, giving the muscle another squeeze.  "If he touches you again, will you use this to pop him one?"

Jamie turned and stared at her partner, truly amazed that her gentle kidding with Chip would upset Ryan.  "Does that make you jealous, Honey?"

Ryan’s face colored a shade darker as she said, "I’m not sure.  I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous before, but if the desire to impale him on a pitching wedge is any indication, I guess I must be."

"Oh, Sweetie, don’t let that bother you.  I just kid around with guys.  I don’t mean anything by it."

"I know," Ryan conceded.  "It just brings up some bad feelings."  Images of Jack flooded her mind, and she realized that she was far from over that hurt.

"Honey, if this bothers you, I’ll plead a headache, and we’ll go home right now!"

"No, no, I’ve got to get used to it.  I’m sure every guy you know would like to have a chance at you...I might as well learn how to deal with it."

Jamie laughed warmly, amused at her lover’s exaggeration.  "Will it help if I tell you that I’m more attracted to you than I am to every man I’ve ever met---all rolled into one?"

"Ahhh, I guess so...but that’s a pretty scary image," Ryan mused.  "I guess it helps that I get to go home with you and see you naked...and sweaty," she said with a seductive grin.  "And I’ve got plans to do just that."

Jamie’s eye widened perceptibly at that comment, but they were nearing Chip’s cart, so she just patted Ryan rather primly on the leg and got out.

Hmmm, so her discomfort is about sex, Ryan mused.  I think it’s time for a sensitive chat as soon as we hit the house.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Since she needed to cover only about 65 yards, Jamie grabbed her wedge and lofted a delicate little shot over the guarding bunkers, landing less than a foot from the hole.  She turned to Ryan and gave her a little eyebrow wiggle as she got back in the cart.  Chip drove by, turning to look at Jamie suspiciously as he passed.

When they reached the green, Chip helped Ryan line up and gave her some basic advice on putting.  Her first effort was way too strong.  The ball shot across the slick green, nearly rolling off into a bunker.  "Whoops," she remarked, as she walked across the green to try again.

"Use that same stroke," Chip told her.  "You’re going uphill now, and you’ll need all of that pace."

She bent over and concentrated, trying to remember just how the previous stroke had felt.  She did a reasonable job of executing, and wound up about four feet away from the hole.  After Jamie told her to finish, she lipped out with her next try.  Safely home with a six, Ryan was pretty pleased with her effort.  Chip complimented her on her play as they watched Jamie coolly drain her short putt.  She had a massive grin on her face as she admitted, "I’ve never birdied this hole."

"When did you play last?" Chip inquired.

"I played Olympic with my father in May," she said.  "Why?"

"When did you put this muscle on?"

"Over the last six or seven months," she said.

"You’ve got a whole different swing, Jamie.  You’re hitting the ball very crisply, and your club head speed is much greater than it used to be.  Why don’t you play the blue tees and really air it out?"

"Blue tees?" she gulped.

"Yeah," Chip said.  "The course is designed for the blues.  You’re gonna have to harness your driver if you stick with the whites."

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly, "but I’ve only got a dozen balls on me."

"If you run out, I’ll buy you more," he promised.

Ryan stuck with the white tees, but Jamie took Chip’s advice and moved back.  The long second hole played 502 from the blues and only 439 from the whites.  Chip advised Jamie to keep her driver in the bag and hit a three wood.  "There’s trouble if you go more than 230 off the tee," he reminded her.  She followed his suggestion and hit her drive about 220 yards, actually holding back a little to keep the ball short of the bunker.  "Boy, you have the most beautiful, natural draw," he said admiringly when she walked back to sit in his cart while Ryan hit her shot.

"Thanks, Chip.  I need some work on my fade, though.  It’s pretty tough for me to push the ball."

"How long are you down for?" he asked.

"I go back on Saturday," she said.  "Why?"

"If you come over tomorrow, I’ll work with you for a while.  This might be presumptuous of me, but I think you should work on your game and try to play at Cal this spring."

"Are you nuts?" she said a little louder than she should have.  Ryan soled her club and shot her a look before she got set again.  "Sorry," Jamie called out, more quietly this time.  "Are you nuts?" she stated again, in a quieter tone.

"No, I’m not," he said calmly.  "You’ve always had a great short game, Jamie.  Your only real problem was length and strength.  It’s hard to compete when your best drive is only 220 yards.  But you nailed that sucker on one, and I could see you hold back a little with your three wood.  Your iron play is so much crisper than it used to be.  I really think you should give it some thought.  I mean," he added, "can you imagine how proud your dad would be of you?"

That brought a little smile to her face as she considered the thought, silently musing that she could use all of the brownie points that she could rack up.  "What time are you free tomorrow?" she asked with a twinkle.

While sitting in the cart waiting for Jamie to walk over to her, Ryan was rather amazed by the large numbers of people who were walking around near the course.  There were access ways across the fairways and behind some of the greens, and it was obvious that the hotel was full today.  People crossed their path at every available opportunity, and she found that she liked the thought of people using the course to get to their destinations.  It’s way too beautiful for just a few golfers to enjoy, she thought.

"Can I confess a sin to you?" Jamie asked shyly as they finished the next hole.

"Yes," Ryan grinned.  "Especially if I can help you commit it," she said with waggling brows.

Jamie playfully slapped her leg.  "Not that kind of sin, silly."  She looked at Ryan rather seriously and said, "I really like being able to kick your butt at something."

"Well, then you must be in heaven," Ryan laughed.  "'Cause my ass is black and blue already."

"I feel kinda bad, though," she continued.  "Like I shouldn’t feel that way about you."

"Jamie, you’re an athlete," Ryan explained.  "What we do is compete, usually against ourselves, but also against others.  It’s entirely natural to want to win.  Didn’t you see how much pleasure I got out of dusting you going up the hills on the ride?"

"Yeah, I guess I did." she admitted.  "But you know, one thing I really love about you is that you don’t get down on yourself when you don’t do something well.  You don’t get all bothered when you miss a shot."

"You haven’t seen me play one of my games poorly," she warned.  "I think your opinion of me might change a bit."

"So you do get mad when you don’t play your sports well?"

"Ehh, yeah," she nodded.  "You could say that."

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

The fifth hole was one of the most spectacular settings that Ryan had ever seen.  The hole rested atop the rocky cliffs of the cove.  The green lay only 166 yards for Jamie, and with the wind at her back she could easily have reached it with a six or a seven iron.  Today, as usual, the wind was blowing directly into their faces as they stood on the tee.  Ryan’s sunglasses fluttered on her face as she turned her head, and her hair was blowing so wildly that she had to search for something to hold it back.  Luckily Jamie had some covered rubber bands in her bag, and Ryan dug one out as Jamie consulted Chip about club selection.

"Well, I’d say it’s playing a good 205 today," he shouted over the wind and the surf.  They agreed that Jamie should use a three iron and try to keep it low.  She hit a ball that bored right through the wind and landed on the left center of the green, where it slowly rolled down toward the cup, which had providentially been placed, on the lower right edge of the green.  She turned and gave Chip a firm hug for his advice.  He looked a little flustered, but recovered enough to give her a big smile as she pulled away.  She’s gotta watch that, Ryan thought as she watched Chip’s reaction.  She doesn’t know the power of those hugs.

Ryan also played an iron, winding up in the right front bunker.  This time Chip went in with her and showed her exactly what to do by hitting a few balls out himself.  Ryan watched intently, while Jamie looked on, smiling at the way Ryan unconsciously imitated Chip as he was performing the motions.  When it was her turn, she did a much better job than the previous time, beaming with pride as she softly landed the ball on the green after only one try.  But the hazards of bunker play on Pebble Beach were made abundantly clear to her as she received a face full of sand on her follow through.  She spat and rubbed her eyes and removed the band from her hair to shake out as much sand as possible.  Jamie was still laughing when her partner finally jogged over to the cart.  "I don’t get this sandy when I play beach volleyball!" Ryan complained.

"Aww...you looked so cute standing over there spitting.  I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you do that."

"You can mark that down in your diary later, you hopeless romantic," Ryan said with a laugh.

The eighth hole always gave Jamie fits.  It was a magnificent hole, but she had always had trouble getting the distance she needed.  She usually played for bogey and hoped for the best.  Feeling bold and confident today, she decided to go for it.  She hit a nice 250-yard drive, positioning it in line with the aiming rock in the distance.  Her lie afforded her a fabulous view of a deep chasm, an enticing, watery graveyard for thousands of errant balls.  She knew that staying away from the chasm wasn’t her only difficulty, however.  The next big problem was that the green was absolutely tiny, nearly postage stamp size.  She had 185 yards left, and she chose to go with a four iron, hoping to hit it low and drive it hard into the green.  Chip drove by and suggested that she play it safe.  "Play left and hope for a great putt, Jamie.  I don’t think you can knock down a four iron in this wind."  He left her to drive closer to the green to watch the balls land in case of trouble.  As Jamie walked back to her clubs, Ryan could see the conflicting emotions playing across her face.

"What’s wrong, Babe?" she asked.

"I want to go for it, but I don’t want to be stupid," she admitted.

"What will it cost you if you go in the drink?"

"Two strokes and a ball," she replied.

"What’ll it cost you if you don’t try something that you think you can do because you’re afraid?"

Jamie looked at her with appreciation in her eyes.  "Thanks, Honey."  She nodded as she took her four iron and struck it stiff.  The ball stayed low and came to rest serenely on the lower tier of the green.  She was still a good 25 feet away, but the shot had greatly increased her confidence.  "So, you’re a good golf coach, too?" she asked with a beaming grin.

"Nope.  I just understand momentum and confidence levels.  I say, play bold until you lose it."

It took Jamie two putts to bring the ball home, but she was intensely pleased with herself for taking a risk.  Chip didn’t say much, but she could tell he was impressed also.  

After they finished nine, they passed a snack bar and stopped to buy some treats.  Ryan bought three candy bars and a big bottle of Gatorade, while Jamie decided on a bag of pretzels and some water.  They packed their goodies in the cart and took off again moments later.

As they stood on the tenth tee, Jamie marveled at the fact that she was still two under par.  She felt absolutely fabulous: strong, fit, well rested and well loved.  She did not recall ever feeling better.  She smiled over at Ryan, "I feel so totally good," she said happily.  "Is this what being in love does to you?"

"So it would seem," Ryan replied with a chuckle.

They made their way around the course quickly, and Chip complimented Ryan repeatedly on how rapidly she played.  Driving up to the 17^th after another compliment, Ryan muttered, "That sounds like when I compliment someone at the gym on how well they’re breathing.  That’s what you say when you’ve got nothing else positive to comment on."

Jamie patted her leg reassuringly.  "This doesn’t happen to you very often, does it?"

Ryan knew just what she meant, and she had to admit that she was being a baby about the experience.  "I don’t like doing things I’m not good at," she agreed a little sheepishly.

"And it doesn’t happen very often, does it?  Hmmm?  Come on, Tiger, tell the truth."

Ryan blushed deeply, suddenly finding the snap on her golf glove to be very interesting.  "No.  It doesn’t."

"I don’t know if this will reassure you, but golf is one sport where your success only comes from long hours of practice.  I know you could be quite a decent golfer if we play once in a while, but to be really good you’d have to dedicate yourself to it."

"No, thanks," Ryan said quickly.  "I like it, and I like doing something active with you, but I wouldn’t give up anything else to do this."

"Agreed," Jamie said.  She gave Ryan a shy smile and admitted, "I kinda hoped you didn’t like it that much, to be honest.  I really want to be better than you at something."

"Oh, Sweetie!  You’re better than I am at lots of things!  You’re clearly a better golfer, you’re a better cook, I haven’t read your stuff, but I’m sure you’re a better writer, yo..."

Jamie patted her leg as they neared Chip’s cart.  "Thanks, Hon. Just a momentary insecurity attack.  All better."

Ryan leaned over and whispered, "You’re better at making love to me than I am."  Jamie’s eyes became so wide at that comment that even Chip noticed.

"Hey, Jamie, are you okay?" he called out.

"Fine.  Just fine," she said as airily as possible.  As she exited the cart, she gave her partner a pinch and jumped out before even Ryan’s quick reflexes could allow her to retaliate.

The 17th and 18th holes at Pebble Beach are two of the most stunning finishing holes in all of golf.  When they stood on the 18th tee, they looked down the Cove edge that ran all the way along the fairway.  Two beautiful cypress trees waited near the landing area, and The Lodge beckoned in the distance.  Waves crashed violently over the walls of the cove, and gulls cried out loudly, trying to be heard over the thundering surf.  The hole was made for Jamie’s natural action.  Putting every ounce of her power into ripping a drive down the left side of the fairway, she was astounded when she drove to the ball and saw that it had landed almost 290 yards from the tee.  She pulled her three wood from her bag with such an intense look of determination spreading over her face that Ryan had to stifle the urge to laugh.  Jamie gave the three wood all she had, and it traveled a good 240 yards, leaving her just a wedge to the green.  She strode back to the cart with a deeply satisfied grin on her face. 

Ryan matched her infectious grin, completely forgetting about her own struggles on this beautiful hole.  She loved seeing her partner so full of confidence.  After she finally reached the green herself, she watched as Jamie shut out all distractions to concentrate on her putt.  She was lying about eight feet from the hole, and she looked at the putt from every angle, getting down on her haunches three times to eye it from every perspective.  Ryan was surprised with how she finally chose to approach the ball.  It looked like she was aimed all wrong, but she kept her mouth firmly shut.  Jamie drew the club back and smoothly rolled the ball directly into the hole.  She let out a "whoop" as she thrust her right arm into the air in exultation.  Ryan went over and high-fived her as she gave her a winning smile.  After Ryan holed out, they drove the short distance to The Lodge, where Jamie offered to buy lunch for all of them.  Chip couldn’t stay, since he had a 12:30 lesson, so he bid goodbye to Ryan, again mentioning her quick play.  "Now don’t forget our date tomorrow," he said to Jamie with a very friendly smile.

"Oh, I won’t."

"I could make room for you on Thursday and Friday, too," Chip added, as he turned to leave.

Jamie started to walk toward the grill, but she turned when she noticed Ryan was not with her.  A dark look had come over the normally smiling face, and Jamie scampered back to see what the problem was.

Ryan’s hands were shoved in her pockets, and she rocked back and forth as much as her cleated shoes allowed.  Jamie knew these were obvious signs of upset, so she placed her hand on her arm and guided her back outside where they could speak privately. 

"What’s wrong, Honey?" she asked quietly.

"Date," was the only word that came from Ryan’s pursed lips.

"Date?"  Jamie was at a loss, wracking her brain trying to decipher this code.

"Chip said you have a date tomorrow."  The words came out crisp and clipped.

"Oh!"  Jamie relaxed and laughed, finding it rather funny that Ryan would take the statement in that way.  "We’re just having a lesson tomorrow, Babe.  I can’t believe you’d think I would date him, or anyone else!"

To her surprise, this information did not brighten Ryan’s mood.  Her face was still set and unyielding, her posture rigid.  "I was under the impression that this was our honeymoon," the dark woman said, enunciating each word.  "I don’t think I would have signed up for the trip if I knew it included the golf package."  With that, she strode back into The Lodge and made her way to the ladies’ lounge.

Jamie resisted the powerful urge to follow her partner.  She knew that Ryan tended to get angry, blow off some steam and was then able to have a rational discussion, so she decided to stay outside and wait her out, hoping that the storm would pass quickly.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

Four days.  We have four full days for our honeymoon.  We could have had seven, but nooooo. We had to stay at Mia’s; we had to do laundry before we came down here; and she has to go to Jack’s--goddamned Jack’s, she quickly amended--graduation.  Fine...just fine.

Taking the band from her hair, Ryan used one of the provided brushes to remove as much sand from her hair as possible.  She was yanking the brush through her locks so forcefully that a dark halo of statically charged hair floated around her head.  Wetting her hands, she smoothed the flyaway hair into place and splashed some cold water on her face.

Still steaming, she grabbed one of the thin washcloths and used it to thoroughly clean her face and neck.  As the suds slid down the drain, so did much of her pique.

You wanted to stop and see Mia, too, ya big dope.  And it was you that wanted to do laundry.  She folded her arms across her chest, staring at herself in the mirror.  Jamie offered to skip Mia’s and come directly down here, so don’t act like this is all her fault.

Narrowing her eyes at herself, she added, She asked you if you minded if she went to goddamned Jack’s graduation.  If you were going to pitch a bitch, you should have done it then.  It’s childish to agree to everything, and then cry about it.

Her lids fluttered closed as she took in a deep breath, then let it out in a controlled stream.  Face it, Ryan.  You’re pissed because she didn’t want to make love this morning.  You thought you’d be horizontal the whole time, but she obviously has other plans.

Her eyes opened just enough for her to catch the bemused grin that was tugging at her lips.  Married life is all about communication and compromise---now get out there and start compromising.

*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *         

It took about ten minutes for Ryan to reappear, and Jamie fought with herself as each minute ticked away.  She was just about to go find her when Ryan came back out.  To Jamie’s experienced eye, her partner looked much more like her normal self.  Her gait was easy and fluid, and her eyes once again were able to meet Jamie’s.

"I’m sorry," she said quietly, coming up alongside Jamie.  The smaller woman was leaning against the wooden railing that surrounded the clubhouse, and Ryan imitated her posture. 

They looked out on the course together for a few moments, until Jamie finally spoke.  "I’m sorry I didn’t ask you if you minded if I took a lesson tomorrow.  That was thoughtless of me, and I’m going to cancel when we go by the pro shop."

"No."  Ryan placed her hand on Jamie’s arm and squeezed it lightly.  "I was acting immaturely.  If you want to do that, I want you to do it."

"Can we go inside and have a bite to eat?" she asked, knowing that Ryan had to be starving.

"Sure."

They were escorted to a nice table with a view of the 18th fairway and green.  After they ordered, Ryan sat back and considered how to approach the issue.  A few moments of thought, and she jumped in.  "I guess I don’t understand why you want to take golf lessons at all, much less on our honeymoon.  I mean, it’s not like you’re not good enough already."

"Thanks," Jamie smiled, deciding to take her compliments as she found them.  "I’m sure it seems that way, but there are some big flaws in my game.  Chip thinks I’ve really improved, and he wants to work with me a little bit to develop a better fade.  I like to work with him, and he’s available, and I guess I just wasn’t thinking."  She started to reach for Ryan’s hand, but remembered where they were and drew back.  "I shouldn’t have been making any plans without consulting you, Honey.  I’m gonna cancel."

"No, no, no," Ryan insisted.  "I’m clueless about this, but I want to understand.  Why do you want to improve your game?"

"Well he thinks, and I stress the ‘he’, that I could maybe play for Cal this year," she said with an embarrassed smirk.

"Is that something you’d like to do?" Ryan asked, having never considered that her partner had an aspiration to play golf competitively.

"I think I would," she admitted.  "I really didn’t want to stop playing after high school, but I wasn’t able to keep up with the guys by my senior year, so I didn’t even try when I first got to Berkeley."

"Why was it important that you couldn’t keep up with the guys?  Didn’t you compete against other girls’ teams?"

"I wasn’t on the girls’ team," she said with a twinkle.

"You were on the boys’ team?" Ryan asked, rather shocked.

"Yeah, my school didn’t offer golf for girls, so I played my butt off to finally make the team.  I worked at it so hard--I was just a maniac.  I had calluses on my hands so thick, I looked like a lumberjack," she laughed.  "My mother thought I was insane, but Daddy was so proud of me," she said fondly.

"But you liked it for you, too, right?"

"Yeah.  I did it for me too.  I really like to play, and I’m pretty good at it.  I like the fact that you compete mostly against the course; there aren’t any judges to make subjective decisions.  I also like having to be mentally tough to accomplish something."

"Wow," Ryan muttered, "this never crossed my mind."

"I won’t do it if you don’t want me to, Babe."  Jamie tilted her head to make eye contact with her partner.

Ryan fixed her gaze and sat still for a minute, formulating her response.  "Is Chip the right guy to give you this advice?"

Jamie nodded confidently.  "He’s known me for a few years, and I like his teaching style a lot.  I don’t think he’d lie to me, Ryan."

"Then I think you should do it," she urged.  "You’ve only got a year of school left, so it’s now or never.  I think you’d regret not having tried, Jamie."

"Thank you for understanding," Jamie said, now giving in to her need and tracing her finger down Ryan’s hand.  "It means a lot to me to have your support."

"I do support you, Jamie.  I’m sure you can do this, if it’s something you really want."

"Maybe."  The smaller woman was not as convinced at her partner seemed to be, but she was willing to give it a shot.  "I’ll work with him for a while tomorrow, but I promise not to commit to any more time without talking to you first."

"Agreed," Ryan smiled, feeling fairly normal again.  "I have confidence that you can do this if you work hard, Babe."

"I so enjoyed having the AIDS Ride as a goal," the smaller woman mused.  "I feel like I need a new goal now that it’s over."

"That’s a good point," Ryan smiled.  "I might need to reassess my goals too."

"What do you mean?" Jamie asked.

"You’ll just have to wait and see, Cupcake," she said with a grin as their food was delivered.

PART 4

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