Points of Departure Karin Kallmaker

"Smile, ladies!"

From my comfortable seat on one of the sofas lining the Piazza Casanova, I enjoyed the sight of yet another couple having their formal photograph taken. The dark-haired woman, six feet if she was an inch, was truly beautiful, and when she smiled it was hard not to believe she wasn't in films. Her arms were nestled around a curvy gal with an infectious smile. A hand casually cupped around a hip illuminated their intimacy.

They finished their time with the camera. The beauty said to the next couple waiting their turn, "That's the first time we've taken a formal portrait."

"It's been ages since we had one done." A much older dyke with curly silver hair had, like me, been waiting for a while for her partner to appear. Her partner, cute and bubbly, had arrived in a bustle and rush, complaining of zipper woes. I had smiled to myself as a kiss along the neckline had been stolen while the troublesome zipper was adjusted. The bubbly woman's reaction to the kiss had been delightful to watch.

She was engrossed now, looking at something on the curvy gal's finger. There was a hint of tears, ripples of laughter, then the photographer cleared his throat and the couples separated. The younger pair headed for the champagne reception and the older twosome took their place in front of the camera.

I wondered if my dear girl was having trouble with her zipper or something, because she was running later than her estimate. She'd said she had something special planned for our formal portrait and she didn't want me to see it beforehand.

As I watched the ebb and flow of women, I let a short film play out in my mind's eye. I was helping my girl dress, but not being very successful. The zipper just wouldn't go up as my mouth nuzzled the nape of her neck. Bad zipper, horrible zipper. My tongue traced its way down her spine until I buried my lips in the heat at the small of her back. The low zipper allowed the dress to curve around the alluring heart-shape of her ass. Rising, I snuggled my front to her back, pushing the dress forward so I could wrap her close. Years of lovemaking told me that the sudden baring of her breasts would harden her nipples. I didn't need to touch them to know that for certain. Not touching them would make her even crazier. I could bend her forward slightly and let the dress fall all the way to the ground. She was naked against me and starting to pant.

The wonderful rise of her moan at my touch was broken by someone close calling out, "Hey, Hana!" I reluctantly opened my eyes and was glad I had. The voluptuous Asian woman in a long, glittering gown was well worth the effort.

A leather-clad butch swung around to face her, looking annoyed.

"I have your T-shirt," the Asian woman said. She handed the butch a folded white bundle. "I even had it laundered."

"Why thanks," the butch said with what I thought was feigned nonchalance.

"See ya," was the only response she got, and in a glittery glow, the Asian woman headed in the direction of the Medusa. Slinky was far too mild a word to describe her walk.

I looked back at the butch just in time to catch her smelling the shirt. Cast aside like a dried-up piece of fruit, I wagered. Crossing between us was a picture of happiness, though, and I followed their progress across the Piazza as the redhead said firmly, "I'm not getting off this ship until we go to the Internet library and book something that will let us be together again sometime next month."

"Have I told you that one of your attractive features is that you know what you want?" Her lover looked at her with such fondness that I was reminded of my girl when she saw that I'd made her breakfast in bed.

Breakfast in bed... the last time was a wonderful memory. I'd brought in a tray with her favorite tea, buttered crumpets and a special surprise she felt the moment I slid back into bed next to her. I loved her body sleep-soft and melted. She was pliable and easily aroused when she'd had enough sleep. Her mouth opened to me, her body opened to me, and we rose and fell together until, in her abandon, she'd rolled atop me, fully awake and ready to ride me into sunset.

Eventually we had the breakfast.

An elegant couple arrived in my line of sight, walking arm in arm toward the dining room. It would take most observers a little while to figure out why they moved so sinuously together, as if they were merged at their hips and arms. The smaller woman was a subtle guide, navigating the scattered crowd with ease that kept her partner's blindness from being apparent. Their animated conversation was interrupted when the blind woman pulled her partner to her for a kiss that ought to have set off the sprinkler system.

"Let's do it, Gab." A blushing woman in a pretty cocktail dress pointed out the photographer. Leaning into her girlfriend's side, she added, "We won't be able to find a photographer at home who'd do a picture like that for two women." Gab, it seemed was amenable, and they joined the short queue on the other side of the piazza.

The photographer continued to exhort smiles from the couples and I drifted again, wondering where my darling girl was. All around me were loving, happy women, holding hands, all of them looking at the future with shared visions. I wanted my beloved at my side, too. We were going to dance all night and then I was going to exhaust her by morning.

We loved dancing together. We'd met at a local dyke dance, both surprised to find a jive partner who could keep up. The later it got, the more the lights dimmed and the more she melted into my arms.

I was enthralled by her shoulders. We danced slower and slower until her hands were down the back of my trousers and my lips and tongue were exploring the slope and breadth of her shoulders. I had never recovered from that night. Before her, I knew what sex was all about. One night with her and I knew what love was all about.

There seemed to be nothing but couples deeply in love everywhere I looked. If love could float a boat, we'd all be dancing in the stars tonight. Just across the way one woman touched another's belly—the gesture was unmistakable. Their future was taking on a new life.

I thought about the redhead wanting to plan her next date with a new love. I wanted to plan my next date with the love I had. I wanted to know when I'd see her smile and when I'd breathe in her perfume. I wanted to plan to spend the holidays in New Zealand, spring in France, next summer in Victoria, and after that I wanted to know the shape of every day, the time of our next kiss, how many times I could count on seeing her smile.

I was desperately, completely in love, and the future was all I wanted.

"Smile, ladies!"

The photographer shook me again out of my reverie. My gaze focused on the luscious curves of a lissome brunette leaning against the bar. Since she was facing away from me, I admired the playful dark curls that cascaded down her bare back and acknowledged that the slinky blue silk dress was extremely flattering to her fair skin.

The sheer stockings and skimpy high heels awakened even more lustful feelings, and I imagined her on her back, under me, those long legs wrapped around my hips. I left my perch to see if her perfume was as delicious as that dream of a dress.

Moving in behind her, I whispered, "Can I buy you a drink?" just before I put my hand on her waist.

"I've been waiting forever for my lover to notice I'm here, so yes." She turned and those bright blue eyes gave me that look, the one that had been instantly fatal to my heart. "Yes, you may buy me a drink"

The future was all that I wanted. Tonight, tomorrow, next week... next year. After a hard swallow, I said, "You look fantastic. That dress is a crime."

"I thought you'd like it." She smoothed the midsection with one hand. "I'm afraid I've put on a few pounds this week, what with die good food and lazy days."

"Don't worry about it, darling." I loved our past, but all that mattered was the future. "They'll come off after you start the chemo on Monday."

I folded her to me, holding my future in my arms.