Special Preview

The Divorcee’s First Time

A Contemporary Lesbian Romance

By Reba Bale

“It’s done,” I said triumphantly. “My divorce is final.”

My best friend Susan paused in the process of sliding into the restaurant booth, her sharply manicured eyebrows raising almost to her hairline. “Dickhead finally signed the papers?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

I nodded as Susan settled into the seat across from me. “The judge signed off on it today. Apparently his barely legal girlfriend is knocked up, and she wants to get a ring on her finger before the big event.” I explained with a touch of irony in my voice. “The child bride finally got it done for me.”

Susan smiled and nodded. “Well congratulations and good riddance. Let’s order some wine.”

We were most of the way through our second bottle when the conversation turned back to my ex. “I wonder if Dickhead and his Child Bride will last for the long haul,” Susan mused.

I shook my head and blew a chunk of hair away from my mouth.

“I doubt it,” I told her. “Someday she’s gonna roll over and think, there’s got to be something better out there than a self-absorbed man child who doesn’t know a clitoris from a doorknob.”

Susan laughed, sputtering her wine. I eyed her across the table. Although she was ten years older than me, we had been best friends for the last five years. We worked together at the accounting firm. She had been my trainer when I first came there, fresh out of school with my degree. We bonded over work, but soon realized that we were kindred spirits.

Susan was rapidly approaching forty but could easily pass for my age. Her hair was black and shiny, hinting at her Puerto Rican heritage, with blunt bangs and blond highlights that she paid a fortune for. Her face was clear and unlined, with large brown eyes and cheek bones that could cut glass. She was an avid runner and worked hard to maintain a slim physique since the women in her family ran towards the chunkier side.

I was almost her complete opposite. Blonde curls to her straight dark hair, blue eyes instead of brown, curvy where she was lean, introverted to her extrovert.

But somehow, we clicked. We were closer than sisters. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last year without her. She had been the first one I called when my marriage fell apart, and she had supported me throughout the whole process.

It had been a big shock when I came home early one day and found my husband getting a blow job in the middle of our living room. It had been even more shocking when I saw the fresh young face at the other end of that blow job.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I had screeched, startling them both out of their sex stupor. “You’re getting blow jobs from children now?”

The girl had looked up from her knees with eyes glowing in righteous indignation. “I’m not a child, I’m nineteen,” she had informed me proudly. “I’m glad you finally found out. I give him what you don’t, and he loves me.”

I looked into the familiar eyes of my husband and saw the panic and confusion there. I made it easy for him. “Get out,” I told him firmly, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Take your teenage girlfriend and get the fuck out. We’re getting a divorce. Expect to hear from my lawyer.”

The condo was in my name. I had purchased it before we were married, and since I had never added his name to the deed, he had no rights to it. There was no question he would be the one leaving.

My husband just stared at me with his jaw hanging open like he couldn’t believe it. “But Jennifer,” he whined. “You don’t understand. Let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” I told him sadly. “This is a deal breaker for me, and you know that as well as I do. We are done.”

The girl had taken his hand and smiled triumphantly. “Come on baby,” she told him. “Zip up and let’s get out of here. We can finally be together like we planned.”

“Yeah baby,” I had sneered. “I’ll box up your stuff. It’ll be in the hallway tomorrow. Pick it up by six o’clock or I’m trashing it all.”

After they left my first call was to the locksmith, but my second call was to Susan.

That night was the last time I had seen my husband until we had met for the court-ordered pre-divorce mediation. He spent most of that session reiterating what he had told me in numerous voice mails, emails and sessions spent yelling on the other side of my front door. He loved me. He had made a terrible mistake. He wasn’t going to sign the papers. We were meant to be together. Needless to say, mediation hadn’t been very successful. Fortunately, I had been careful to keep our assets separate, as if I knew that someday I would be in this situation.

Through it all, Susan had been my rock. In the end I don’t think I was even that sad about the divorce, I was really angrier with myself for staying in a relationship that wasn’t fulfilling with a man I didn’t love anymore.

“You need to get some quality sex.” Susan drew my attention back to the present. “Bang him out of your system.”

“I don’t know,” I answered slowly. “I think I need a hiatus.”

“A hiatus from what?” Susan asked with a frown. “You haven’t had sex in what, eighteen months?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I just can’t take a disappointing fumble right now. I would rather have nothing than another three-pump chump.”

I shook my head and continued, “I’m going to stick with my battery-operated boyfriend, he never disappoints me.”

Susan smiled. “That’s because you know your way around your own vajayjay.”

She motioned to the waiter to bring us a third bottle of wine.

“That’s why I like to date women,” she continued. “We already know our way around the equipment.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “You make a good point.”

Susan leaned forward. “We’ve never talked about this,” she said earnestly. “Have you ever been with a woman?”