Page 21 of This Is Who I Am

CASS

Since Estelle last came to Savor, we’ve had two proper dates and one half-date.

Now she’s back at her table by the window, and my focus is all over the place.

For the life of me, I can’t keep my eyes off her.

It’s as if after kissing her again an extra layer of hotness has been added to her entire being.

And the way she sits there, back straight, hair wild, tasting my food as if it’s the most precious find on the planet, makes me nearly burn a scallop twice.

First it was hot flashes during service, now it’s this.

I manage to make it through service because I’m a chef and that’s what we do.

We muddle along while time speeds up and we never have enough hands to perform all the tasks that need doing.

I may adhere to a slow restaurant philosophy but that doesn’t mean things aren’t hectic during a fully booked Friday evening.

Just like last Friday, we sit at the bar of the near-empty restaurant where I pour us an outrageously expensive glass of Napa Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Thanks for staying.” I look into Estelle’s brown gaze and everything is already so different than last week. I don’t know her that well yet, not the details that make up the magnificent human that she is, but I do know some things. That she’s a great kisser, for instance.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” When she smiles, I feel it everywhere. I’ve got it good. Suzy likes to say that menopause is like a second puberty—and that’s very much how I feel when I’m with Estelle. “Although, apparently, we’re invited to brunch at Bobby and Hunter’s on Sunday.”

“We don’t have to go.” Bobby called me this morning to tell me all about his impromptu-but-illuminating coffee with Estelle—knowing him, there probably wasn’t that much impromptu about it. “I promised to help you out at your dad’s house.”

“I’d much rather go to brunch at a gay couple’s than go through more of my father’s incomprehensible papers.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Bobby was lovely. A bit—” She pauses, possibly to search for the right word.

“Full-on? In your face? No-holds-barred?” I offer.

“Amongst other things.” Estelle extends her leg and puts her foot on the footrest of my bar stool.

All I want to do is lean in and kiss her again, but that would be highly inappropriate with my staff finishing up in the kitchen.

“How about we take these glasses upstairs?” I ask. “It’ll be more private.”

“You’re the boss.” Estelle grins at me and I don’t know what to do with myself.

Ever since she stopped by yesterday with the sole purpose of kissing me, I’ve been wondering how dating her is different because of her being ace.

It doesn’t feel different. In my experience, kissing always leads to something else—to more.

But I guess with her, even when I invite her upstairs and there’s clearly an element of not being able to keep our hands off each other—her as well as me—the kissing has nowhere to go.

Whereas I’m perfectly okay with that—I think—it’s all a bit strange.

“Give me a minute.” I head to the kitchen and as soon as she clocks me, Kelly catches my gaze.

“We’ve got it, boss. Go. Be with your lady. Enjoy. I’ll lock up.”

“Thanks, Kelly, you’re the best.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she jokingly shouts after me.

“Come on.” We take the bottle and two wine glasses to the privacy of my apartment.

* * *

After Estelle and August have greeted each other like old friends, we end up sitting very close to each other in the couch.

It’s hard not to burst into a silly grin every time I look into Estelle’s face.

Even the way she holds her wine glass, cupped in her hand, is sensual.

It’s also hard not to kiss her, which is the very reason I brought us here, but I’m confused by how fast this is moving—especially if kissing is the end station of what we will physically do together.

“Can I ask you another one of my ignorant questions?”

“Curiosity is the opposite of ignorance,” she says, making me feel like a million bucks again. “It’s perfectly normal to have questions.”

“After you told me you were ace, I didn’t think things would be so… physical between us. I didn’t expect you to kiss me like that.”

“Like how?” Estelle must have had a variation on this conversation a dozen times and she can probably read me like an open book.

“Like… foreplay.”

“Would you rather we didn’t kiss?”

As she asks the question, all I can do is stare at her lips with all my defenses down. “Heavens, no.” I shake my head for emphasis.

“Do you want more?” There’s not a hint of judgement in her tone.

“No, I mean… I don’t know. Maybe.” I huff out some air.

“I’m sorry for being so un-suave about this.

” I have to search for my words again. “I guess I was wondering how you feel about sleepovers?” Sleepovers?

As if we really are teenagers. My cheeks might as well be on fire that’s how hot they’re burning.

“Everything is debatable, except one thing,” she says. “We can talk about anything you want, Cass. It’s important that you ask me whatever you need to ask me. It’s okay. I won’t be embarrassed and you don’t need to be embarrassed either, although I understand it can be a bit awkward.”

“And that one thing would be that I can’t touch you below the waist?” I ask.

Estelle nods. “In a sexual way.”

“Okay.” I take a sip of wine. “Has it always been this way for you?”

“Yes, although it took me a long time to figure out. Obviously, when I started developing feelings for other people, I experimented, just like everyone else.” Her gaze is as soft as her voice.

“I basically did everything with some girlfriends, but, um…” She pauses.

“Well, let’s say I could not believe my eyes when I saw how sex affected my partners.

I literally couldn’t fathom it, because I don’t feel it.

I never have and I never will—I know that now.

” Her shoulders sag a little. “I’ve been to so many doctors.

Psychiatrists. Neurologists. Every kind of therapist you can think of.

You name it, I’ve seen them.” She looks away now.

“Because I felt abnormal and I wanted answers. But sometimes there is no answer.” She expels the smallest of sighs.

“Except that I am partially asexual.” She tips her head.

“Which probably only raises more questions with you.”

“Thank you for sharing.” She’s right, I have so many more questions.

“Not a problem. I’m happy to share. Honestly, the number one job of an asexual person is disentangling confusion.” She chuckles. “It’s what we spend the energy on we don’t use for sex.”

I’m so glad she just made a joke. It lightens the earnest vibe that has descended on my living room.

A tension not caused by Estelle, but by my lack of knowledge.

I happily chuckle along, ignoring the fact that her openness and the ease with which she talks about herself, quite ironically, only makes her more attractive to me.

“I’m perfectly happy not having sex, but I’m equally happy giving. I leave that entirely up to my partner.”

“That kind of sounds like the dream of quite a few women.”

“It may sound like it, but most women are givers. Because of how women are socialized, they have no idea how to just receive. Especially an orgasm.”

“Really?” I’ve never considered this.

“Trust me.”

“Is that why you have all those scars on your heart?”

Estelle nods. “Yes, among other things.”

“Are you saying I should be careful what I wish for.”

“I don’t know, Cass.” Something slowly shifts in the air. “What do you wish for?”

“What I really wish for—” I owe her this degree of honesty—at least in this we can give and receive equally. “Is for my body to be able to experience pleasure again.”

Estelle nods as though she completely understands, whereas, if I’ve understood correctly, she’s never had an orgasm in her life.

“If my face looks funny, it’s because I’m biting my tongue,” she says.

“What do you mean?” Her face is all broody gaze and lips I want to kiss for days. “Why?” Did I put my foot in it? It’s highly likely in a conversation like this.

“I want to say something that I perhaps shouldn’t.”

“Please, don’t let me stop you.” My curiosity could not be more piqued.

“This is going to sound a bit out there, but I could… help you with your, um, pleasure.” She briefly sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ironically, I’m pretty good at that, because I don’t focus on myself.”

I need to keep my jaw from slacking. This is next-level flirting. This is wooing me into bed. Or am I reading this all wrong? Jesus. From the get-go, it’s been like this.

“That does sound a bit out there.” I have to push the words past the dryness in my throat because this isn’t just confusing, it’s also incredibly arousing.

“It’s definitely something we could do together.” She circles her fingertip along the rim of her wineglass. What happened to the woman who, minutes earlier, sitting in that same spot, exclaimed that she could take or leave sex?

“Estelle,” I say on a sigh, “your signals are so mixed, I fear I might lose my mind.”

“I know.” She exhales. “But it’s a weakness of mine to… want to awaken something inside a beautiful woman I have a crush on.”

I take it the woman she’s referring to is me. “But what do you get out of it? Does it give you pleasure? Do you experience any… sexual desire?”

“Pleasure, yes, but not the same kind of pleasure you would get from it. It’s different for me. But I do get a kick out of making a woman come, although, for me, it’s not sexual.”

“Oh, boy.”

“But as I said, it’s not a must,” she has the audacity to remind me.

“It’s not?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m attracted to and confused by you in equal measure,” I say. “And I thought this was going to be simple. No sex. No complications.”

“It can be.”

“Not really. Not after what you’ve just said…”

“Because you’re curious now?” Her lips tilt into a grin.

“Oh, yeah.”

“That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But… even though I’m curious, I’m not ready for…

” I shake my head. “I can’t, um, yet.” I may be attracted to Estelle—and the brazen hope in her words—but I’m still a woman in the middle of menopause who gained twenty pounds in the past few years with a body that always seems to want to do the opposite of what I want it to.

“Do I look like I’m in any kind of rush?” She lets her head fall sideways onto her outstretched arm. “Let’s take it slow.”

“Maybe we can start with a simple sleepover,” I say, even though I’m not at all sure about sharing my bed with another human—August is more than enough.

“Sure.” She smiles lazily at me. “How about tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Despite everything, saying yes to Estelle is easy. She won’t judge me—and I don’t have to be naked.