In the videos Eve liked best, the women were friends or neighbors or former romantic partners. Some of the other scenarios were a little more problematic, playing on age and power differentials that would have raised serious red flags in real life. A teacher doesn’t think a pupil’s been working up to her potential. A homesick foreign exchange student needs a little cheering up. A cougarish stepmother puts the moves on her sullen, but very persuadable, stepdaughter.
In the porn world, no one seemed to have heard of sexual harassment. Doctors went down on their patients. Personal trainers fondled their clients. Underperforming employees found creative ways to save their jobs. Eve would have objected strenuously to these scenarios if a man had been involved. But with two women, it was different somehow—a little more playful, and not nearly as creepy. Just a harmless fantasy, rather than something that reminded you of an infuriating article you’d read in the paper, or a bad experience recounted by a friend.
*
“There was a girl in my dorm who transitioned,” Amanda said. “It was an amazing thing to watch. When she showed up freshman year, she was so plain and quiet nobody even noticed her. Then she cut her hair and started dressing like a boy. Sophomore year she began the hormone therapy. Junior year her voice got deep, and it was like, I’m not Linda anymore. Please call me Lowell. That summer Lowell got the top surgery. By the end of senior year he was this buff, handsome dude with a scruffy beard and a motorcycle. Lots of girls I knew dated him. It got to be sort of a thing, you know? Like, cross that one off the bucket list.”
Eve nodded, but the story sounded so foreign to her. When she’d been in college, there was a woman on campus with patches of dark hair on her face, but nobody thought she was cool or intriguing. People mostly just felt sorry for the poor girl, and did their best not to stare. Eve assumed she was suffering from a medical condition or some kind of cosmic misfortune. It had never even occurred to her that the bearded woman might be making a choice, moving in the direction of happiness.
“So these girls who dated Lowell,” Eve said. “Were they straight or bi or what?”
“All kinds.” Amanda lowered her gaze, adjusting the napkin in her lap. “I asked him out for coffee one afternoon. We had a pretty good time. When it was over, he drove me home on his motorcycle, and we made out a little outside my apartment. It got pretty heavy, but when he asked if we could go up to my room, I chickened out. I guess I wasn’t ready for whatever that was gonna be, which is saying something, ’cause I was pretty much up for anything back then. But he was totally cool about it. The next time I saw him, he was dating this beautiful Turkish girl from my Milton class.”
“That’s so amazing,” Eve said. “It’s like a modern-day Cinderella story. You change your body and your name, and all your dreams come true. I wish I could do that myself.”
“Really?”
“Not the man part. Just the chance to leave your old self behind. To take all your mistakes and regrets and erase them from the story. Who wouldn’t want that?”
Amanda nodded, as if that made a lot of sense.
“So who would you be? If you could start over?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t given it a lot of thought.”
“What about your name? What would you call yourself?”
“Let’s see.” Eve closed her eyes, and a name appeared to her unbidden, blue letters stamped on a gift shop license plate. “Ursula. I’d call myself Ursula.”
“That’s a strong name. What’s this Ursula like?”
“Braver than me,” Eve said. “She does what she wants. Doesn’t worry so much about what everybody else thinks. Doesn’t settle for less than she deserves, or apologize unless it’s absolutely necessary. She just wants to live and have adventures.”
Amanda smiled. “I like this person.”
Eve knew she’d said more than enough, but she was on a roll.
“Ursula probably doesn’t work at the Senior Center.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Amanda said, but she didn’t sound sorry.
“She does something a little more exciting. Maybe she’s a travel writer. She wears sunglasses and has lots of affairs.”
“She sounds pretty sexy.”
Eve scratched at a yellowish stain on the tablecloth, hoping her face wasn’t as pink as it felt. She was a little drunk, a little embarrassed, but also strangely exhilarated.
“What about you?” she said. “Who would you be?”
“Juniper.” Amanda spoke without hesitation. “I’d be petite and graceful. Maybe a dancer. No tattoos. Just my own beautiful skin. And I’d be naked every chance I got. I’d leave my window shades up, let the whole world look.”
“Good for you.”
Amanda laughed a little sadly, like she was unworthy of her own fantasy. Eve wanted to tell her she was beautiful already, but instead she made a toast.
“To Ursula and Juniper.”
“Juniper and Ursula,” Amanda replied, and they clinked their tiny glasses.
*
By the time they left the restaurant, Eve had come full circle, back to the idea that this was a date, and a pretty good one at that. They’d talked for hours without hitting any dead spots, they’d drunk a little too much wine, they’d laughed and told the truth about their lives.
It was quiet as she walked Amanda to her car, a bracing autumnal chill in the air. The fluttery feeling in Eve’s chest was even stronger than it had been before.
“Thanks for dinner,” Amanda said. “I really enjoyed it.”
“Me too.”
Instead of getting in her car, Amanda just stood there, smiling shyly, like she was waiting for something else to happen. Eve wanted to kiss her, but she was paralyzed, unsure about which one of them was the confident one.
It has to be me, she thought.
She was older. She was the boss. But she didn’t feel confident at all. She felt lost and scared, like she was floating in space, completely untethered.
And then, almost as if she were reading Eve’s mind, Amanda stepped forward, opening her arms and tilting her chin at an inviting angle. Eve swooped in and kissed her on the mouth.
“Whoa!” Amanda stiffened and pulled away with a shocked expression, raising both hands in self-defense. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry.” Eve was mortified. “I just thought—”
“Wow.” Amanda laughed nervously, wiping her wrist across her mouth. The gesture seemed a little excessive—the kiss had only lasted a second, no tongue or saliva involved. “I just wanted to give you a hug.”
“Oh, God.” Eve hid her face in her hands. “I’m so stupid. I drank too much. I’m so so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Amanda told her, still sounding a little shocked. “It’s no big deal.”
“Yes it is,” Eve muttered into her palm. “I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right.”
“Really. It’s okay.”
Eve uncovered her face. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t worry.” Amanda touched her gently on the arm. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Eve felt a little sick. She hadn’t thought about the possibility of Amanda telling anyone.
“Thank you,” she said. “I would really appreciate that.”
*