Janna-the-Whip

This story used to be called Cody, Janna and Lynn. I changed POV, altered the tense, and hopefully, caught all mistakes brought on by the re-write. I think this is a better story than the original. Enjoy!

         Bare feet slapped a rhythm on the faded hardwood floor. Lynn’s body moved across the room in a slow orchestration of thin arms and legs. The brown bottle in her hand told Cody what she could not. “Sometimes you just gotta have a beer." Lynn’s comment was wistful as she dropped into a corner of the ugly yellow couch they shared. It faded in vitality each time Cody visited her friend. Lynn avoided Cody’s eyes as beer foam quickly rose to the lip of the bottle she cradled, disturbed by the sudden movement.
         “Yeah," Cody’s reply was neutral. Lynn judged herself more harshly than Cody ever would.
         “You can't change the world," Lynn said, resurrecting the conversation from neglect. "You might change your little corner, but it wouldn't do shit for anybody else."
         “I cannot change the world? I still believe,” Cody declared, smiling at her own naiveté. "I believe in me. People have the power to change bad personal circumstances for the better."
         Lynn tilted the bottle to her lips, but her eyes remained on the younger woman. Cool and all knowing, like grey mist over a frozen winter lake, her eyes hid dangerous rocks and sheltered nothing pure. "I never thought you were a fool, before this."
         "I thought I was cast as the naive idealist."
         Cody’s careless humor chased away the minute laugh wrinkles on Lynn’s face. She covered her sudden gloom by drawing from the bottle once more. "Life cures idealism.”
         Lynn was so determined to be cynical! Cody wanted to call her on it, but her friend’s malaise had found a target. There would be no stopping her until the venom was gone.
         “It's a cold fucking world away from your parents’ money, Sport. People hurt others they claim to love. Babies get raped here," Lynn growled. "Cars swerve across lanes to hit squirrels and kitty cats. People scrounge supper from garbage cans in this happy little place. Bombs blow living humans into thousands of bloody pieces," she ranted at Cody, at herself, and at the ghosts she refused to acknowledge. "Whole races are vilified for incidental physical characteristics. And somebody'll always be there to ignorantly mutter, 'what are you?' as you cross the street."
         Does she know, Cody wondered, how sensitive I am about my appearance, more masculine than feminine? "Okay," Cody accepted as though she agreed. She wanted to say so much, but sensed that an over-abundance of words was useless. Lynn needed to hear what she had to say. “I know those are facts. If you’re going to survive this life you can’t let the bad things overshadow the good.”
         She was determined to rebut Lynn’s cynical tirade. “When the sun rises across the water through a soft, autumn mist, I know that all is right with the world. Baby chickens, right, they’re soft and yellow and they make me smile. Bad things cannot change what the good things are even if I can’t always find a smile. As long as people continue to pause, to help those less fortunate, I will believe in the ideal of a pure goodness. Good things wash away the hurt.”
         Lynn wanted to believe, Cody could see it in the wintry eyes. Their gazes were direct because there was truth telling between them. She pressed her point. “Do you remember after we met last summer, when we sat downtown and splashed in the bank fountain? It was so hot my eyeballs were sweating! The bank manager came outside and lectured me about behaving appropriately in public, bringing shame onto my family name, but I did I care? No, because hanging out in the fountain with you was a good and necessary thing.”
         "You're so good for me,” Lynn complimented. Her beer was empty. She deserted the sofa for the kitchen and another bottle.
         "Ready for another coke? Or a beer?" Lynn asked abruptly, her feet tangled in the doorway. Deft fingers twisted off her bottle's cap with an expertise Cody did not envy.
         Cody shrugged, unruffled by the offer. Lynn knew she did not drink. Lynn drank too much. "How about a beer?"
         Lynn retrieved another bottle and presented Cody with the one she had opened in the doorway. "I thought you didn’t drink."
         "Sometimes you just gotta have a beer," Cody said without the wistful signature Lynn’s earlier words had carried.
         “How late can you stay?"
         "Two, I guess," Cody admitted with a reluctant glance at her wristwatch. Why did she resent the unexpected reference to reality away from the apartment? "I'm supposed to work at nine tomorrow morning. My parents want the union negotiations done before the end of the quarter, and if I‘m not there somebody else will have to fetch the coffee."
         Lynn’s bottle was open and she lit a short black cigar-an admitted affectation. "Good. If Janna sees your jeep in front of my house, she'll leave me alone tonight. I never should have fucked her."
         Cody accepted the new information without flinching. She knew Janna through work and rumors in the community, and she tolerated Janna in deference to her parents as well as Lynn. She would never understand the attraction so many people had for less-than-equal relationships. Cody would rather be alone, her self-respect intact, than risk her heart on an unhealthy relationship.
         "I was horny," Lynn added when Cody did not respond quickly enough.
         "It happens."
         "I don't know why. I'm not a lesbian. I like men with hairy chests, deep, masculine voices, and fat cocks; these are a few of my favorite things!" Lynn sang aloud, in tune and grinning.
         Was Lynn drunk? Cody couldn’t remember how many bottles Lynn had since her arrival. She refused to count them. What could she say? Cody knew Lynn was not a lesbian. Lynn said so innumerable times in previous conversations. But why fuck Janna if she was not a lesbian? Cody did not understand, and she wanted to understand very much.
         "Maybe it's a generational thing," Cody’s answer was diffident and slow as she tried to work through the thought as she gave it voice. "I mean, when you were growing up, there was all that peace and free love going on, so that would influence your behavior. If it feels good, do it, right?"
         Lynn shrugged, disinterested in self-analysis. Without answers herself, she rejected Cody’s reasons because they were not part of her truth. Some questions can only be answered by ones self. “Janna was available and I was horny. Don't you ever get horny?"
         "Of course I do," Cody was honest. "I just don't let it control my actions." She hoped Lynn would not take offense, but she would not lie to save anyone’s feelings. Lynn’s expression was unreadable as she drew from her beer and listened without comment. "You can be however you want, with whomever you choose, and it won't affect me a bit. I care because I like and respect you, but not enough to be upset when you act in a way I would not.”
         “You see something worthwhile in me like no one else ever has." Lynn’s eyes were on Cody again. Her manner implied familiarity and promised intimacy they could never have.
         For an instant, Cody resented those eyes and the potential lying dormant within them. How dare Lynn, the oft-proclaimed hetro who fucked Janna the Whip, look at her, pale eyes smoldering with whatifs? Lynn was nothing but a sundog, bright and intense, but unable to give the heat of two suns. Cody lit another cigarette to avoid her gaze. What would Lynn see? Even Cody could not answer that. "It's a gift. I see goodness in everyone."
         As though she sensed the sudden distance in Cody, Lynn’s smile was more kind than bitter. "Naive',” Lynn’s pronouncement was succinct. “You haven't a clue how the world works. Spoiled all your life, raised by feel-good humanists who shielded you from the realities of poverty, and your own lesbianism-you see good in everyone because you don’t know what bad is. When have you ever lain in bed all night, wracking your brain, vainly searching for a way to stretch your meager paycheck for rent and groceries?"
         "Please! You only know of me what I have chosen to share. My mothers shielded me from the harsher realities because they saw reason to protect me." Cody was cheerful, realizing that her friend’s did not mean to wound her. She wanted their time together to be enjoyable, but she had a melancholy suspicion that Lynn left the conversation after the fifth or sixth beer. "What does this have to do with good and bad, or Janna the Whip, or-"
         "What did you call her?" Lynn interrupted; an expectant grin brightened her seamed face. A face with true character, one of the Moms once told Cody when she thought her daughter was not listening. Lynn had an expressive face that could show an excited little girl learning to ride her bike for the first time, and a grown-up woman who had to scrounge for simple beauty.
         “Janna the Whip. A girl hears rumors," Cody lightly added as she finished her beer. "She's not really your type."
         "And what's my type?" Lynn challenged with a sweep of her hair.
         Cody shrugged and ignored her blatant provocation. "You've been educated beyond your mutually simple upbringing, traveled over the world, and you have admitted problems with booze. Janna probably never passed the tenth grade, has lived in town all her life, and she has a criminal record. You said you moved here to put your life back in order. Do you really think being involved with an S&M dyke who has a drug problem is a wise step towards fixing your life?"
         "Nope."
         “There y'go. Question answered."
         Lynn gave Cody an admiring look for the insight as she rose from the couch in a stretch of spine and muscle. "I wish I knew what you know when I was ten years younger. I wouldn't be where I am today. Another beer?
         “Sure.”
         Cody watched her walk to the refrigerator, wearing contradictions as another might wear a pair of old shoes. Lynn had confessed that she seduced the grocery boy, yet disrespected het women at every opportunity. She fucked Janna but sang paeans to fat cocks. Cody wondered what knowing Lynn gave her that she needed.
         She had spent the summer camped in Lynn’s living room, talking and laughing, learning the boundaries of their friendship. Now, six months later, they saw each other less often, but still she felt drawn to her. Lynn was right; Cody did see something worthwhile in her that others could not. Lynn’s inability to see herself in a positive light disturbed Cody deeply, however, on a level she would never verbalize. She wanted Lynn to care about herself as much as she cared for Lynn. Naive' she may have been, but she was also a realist. Some things just cannot turn out as a person might wish.
         "Hey, come back!" Lynn waved a callused hand before Cody’s face to get her attention. "You're wearing your pensive look. Have another beer; they always make me feel better. So do you."
         "Stop or I'll blush," Cody threatened with a smile.
         "Not you," Lynn confidently assured on her return to the couch. "I love talking to you, you know. It's too bad you have to work tomorrow. I could keep you here all night instead of half."
         "Yeah," Cody agreed, not dwelling on the possibilities that flashed through her mind. "I wish life could be a long, intense conversation with plenty of cigarettes and no place to go."
         Lynn smiled back, sharing the secret, and lifted her bottle in salute. "For us, it is."
--

         Janna saw Cody’s jeep as soon as she turned onto Jameson Street. Her first reaction was a stab of anger. Why did Cody return here, like a suicidal moth fluttering against a naked light bulb on a darkened street? Cody’s mothers would be pissed if they knew she was wasting time on Lynn. Then Janna asked herself-why should I care? Nosy inner voice.
         "None of my business," she sternly reminded herself as she drove passed the shabby apartment building. Although they both worked for Cody’s parents, they only spoke about work related issues. Away from the job, all Cody ever gave her was a furtive 'hello', as though afraid somebody might discover she knew her. They both knew Lynn and still Cody ignored her. Janna did not understand what she ever did to make Cody avoid her. Brooding was Janna’s middle name.
         Thinking of Cody, Janna swung her car around the block and found a spot to park, three houses from Lynn's building. Here, she could see the jeep and the light in the living room. She wanted to march into 2B, pull Cody up by the collar, and drag her naive' little ass away from Lynn's influence. She wouldn’t, since her last attempt to step between them backfired, but the pull she felt towards Cody was too elemental to ignore.
         Four months previous, worried by rumors they were an item, she stopped by to talk to Lynn after work. Janna was blunt, but they had known each other too long and too well for her to play nice. She wasn't cruel. She laid it out straight for Lynn. Janna asked her to stay away from the kid, give her a break. There were other women she could have in town. Her predatory interest wasn't going to win her any awards in the community. Stay away from the young and naive'. Let Cody cut her teeth somewhere else.
         Lynn just smiled and popped the cap on another beer. It was nothing to her until she found out Janna was interested. She must have heard the implied threat, read Janna’s true feelings. Life had sucked the tact right out of Janna.
         Lynn had replied that she wasn't interested in callow youth, preferring the strength and experience of a woman her own age. Clumsy pass. Janna had her fill of Lynn many years before and she turned her down flat. Lynn was pissed, but Janna wasn’t half as stupid as she was back when they were lovers. She had grown and matured beyond her ability to destroy herself, unlike Lynn. Thirteen years clean and sober, celibate, and disease free, despite all the drugs she had inflicted on her system. She planned to keep it that way.
         Janna’s watch timer beeped at her, a reminder of the world outside her head. Had she been sitting here for so long, she wondered with a glance at the dashboard clock. 2:35 a.m. There was a meeting with the union in the morning and Cody was supposed to be there. Why was she still with Lynn?
         She shoved away the answers crowding in on her, none of them she liked, and pushed herself out of the car. I'll just stretch my legs; she lied to herself as she fumbled for a cigarette. No harm in a little exercise, right, just happened to be in the area. Yeah, right. Somebody watching her would think she was some obsessive sicko, spying through windows late at night. Getting arrested in Lynn’s lousy neighborhood required a body and a smoking gun.
         Cody was better than the crap Janna used to pump into herself to dull the senses. She could see Cody’s profile through the window, softly backlit by the lamp Lynn kept on the TV. Janna badly wanted to be the focus of the caring attention on Cody’s face. Cody had a special way about her, a presence that swelled forth to embrace everyone she met, and she had no clue of her effect on others. Much less on Janna. If she knew Janna would be tongue-tied, not the smooth dyke with an attitude she saw in the mirror each morning.
         Janna felt drawn to Cody; she should not be surprised Lynn was, too. She hated that voice of reason, butting in where it didn’t belong, making her feel foolish. Janna was practically as old as Lynn was. Neither of them should encourage Cody’s curiosity about the darker side of life. Too much booze, not enough money, drug deals made in the kitchen while somebody's kid played house in the next room. When Janna thought how that reality would surely dim the light in Cody’s eyes, her heart ached for her.
         At least she didn’t live like that any more. At least she admitted she had no right to approach Cody. Lynn seemed to get a twisted pleasure in corrupting her, and Janna felt like an angry bear whose cub was in danger. She was angry with Lynn for Cody. Should she stand by and let Lynn wreck Cody’s life, ruining her future relationships as Lynn did hers? Lynn's touch would spoil her freshness, the innocent belief Cody had that the world was inherently good.
         Janna could not stay away from either of them-or the hassle-and she flicked her half-smoked cigarette towards the middle of the street. She had to invite herself inside Lynn's apartment. Maybe, she bargained with herself, if I turn this around before it goes too far, I’ll get to sleep before dawn for a change.
--
         Fuck! What's Janna doing here? Lynn stared at her through the peephole in the door, resenting her presence. Janna was like a bulldog where the kid was concerned and Lynn wanted to ignore her. Knowing, however, that Janna would not go away unless she first gained entry into the apartment, Lynn opened the door wide. She still had a few manners left.
         "Mornin', Sunshine."
         Janna glared at her as she pushed her way through the open door. God, she looks hot, was Lynn’s first thought, but then the bitch always did. Lynn smiled back, her expression at odds with her thoughts. She would never forgive Janna for leaving her. Janna would suck anything near her mouth, and she could make Lynn cum with a hooded glance across the room. "You're drunk."
         "Usually am," Lynn retorted, sticking with a flippant mood. She was a drunk, right, and drunks get to say whatever they damnwell please. If Janna expected the worst, she'd get it tonight. “Getcha a beer?”
         Ignoring her, Janna stalked to the living room and sat on a battered loveseat that laid at 90 degrees to the couch. The furniture didn’t match, but who really gives a flying fuck about decor? It all looks the same through blurry eyes.
         "Janna, you know Cody," Lynn introduced with a smirk. The discomfort on Cody's angular face made her want to giggle, but she suppressed it in favor of lighting a cigar. Janna had muscular forearms flexed, resting them on her knees as she leaned forward. It made the room seem smaller to Lynn as she curled into her corner of the couch. "We're old friends, Janna and I."
         Cody managed a smile Janna did not see; she was too busy glowering at Lynn to notice the embarrassment on the kid’s face. Lynn noticed; she was drunk, not stupid. Janna obviously had the hots for everyone’s favorite baby butch, and Cody was too fucking inexperienced to see it. Somewhere in the middle was little ol' Lynn.
         “You're drunk, aren't you?”
         “Think asking me that repeatedly is gonna sober me up, Janna? What're you doing here?"
         Janna threw a furtive glance at the kid. Did Cody's presence make her hold her tongue? This could be a happy little party for Lynn. Nothing would make her happier than to rip Janna to shreds in front of Cody. This impromptu gathering could work to her benefit after all.
         “I saw the light. Thought I'd stop.”
         Blatant lies from a tongue Lynn once squirmed under. FUCK. She ached so damn bad.
         “Did you move?”
         The kid asked what Lynn couldn’t think of, and the ache eased its grip on her insides. Would Cody be an ally? Lynn hoped so. If Janna just left, and the kid stayed the night, Lynn’s world would be a fun place again.
         “Yeah,” Lynn shared her witty two-cents, smiling innocently for Janna. “Thought you lived t'other side of town.”
         Janna’s expression was blank, distant. Black eyes wide and curious, she looked from Cody to Lynn and back. Her smile was faint, as if she had a royal flush. “I do, Lynn. Who said I was on my way anywhere special? I was in the area, saw the light, and decided to say hi. Something wrong with that?”
         “Maybe,” Lynn blurted before she could think of something better. Shit, she felt like she had been drinking all day-wait I HAVE been drinking all day! A high pitch laugh she did not expect escaped out of her mouth, and she was immediately horrified. Fuck. “I need another-either of you wanna a beer?”
         Cody looked down at the bottle in her hands, and shook her head as Lynn passed her spot on the sofa. The kid looked like an overgrown brat whose favorite puppy died under the tires of an 18-wheeler. Janna really knew how to fuck up a night.
         Lynn ignored Janna and drifted into the kitchen. Another beer, another chance at oblivion. Why did everything she touch turn to shit? The kid wanted her so bad. Lynn could feel her puppy-dog eyes every time she moved. Janna-geez! She fucked up with her years ago. The only reason Janna ever came around was the kid. Lynn would take either of them to hold the demons at bay, but all she wanted was another goddamned beer.
         “I should be going pretty soon.”
         Lynn paused in the doorway to stare at the kid. Where did she have to go so late? “You just got here! Don't let Janna Grumpy Bear scare y'off, Cody.”
         Cody shrugged, still looking at her hands. She had barely touched her beer. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning, that's all.”
         “So do I.”
         Of course, Janna had to throw in her two cents! “You can leave any time, Janna,” Lynn informed her. “Why don't you leave me alone? Why do you bother?”
         Janna blinked at her. “I worry about you, Lynn. I worry you'll never get out of the booze fog that makes you live the way you do. I worry you'll hurt somebody besides yourself.”
         Lynn frowned, resenting the advice. Did Janna think she was the first person who had told Lynn that truth? Fuck it! She had a few things to say, too. “You're here 'cause you don't want me taking Cody before you can.”
         Cody's head snapped up, looking from Lynn to Janna and back. “What?”
         Janna's dark head shook in slow denial. “That's not it, Lynn. She doesn't need either of us, and I think you know it. I'm very aware of the fact. You need to stop drinking. Cody needs to get her butt home so she can sleep before her meeting, and so do I.”
         “I drink because I want to-mind your own fuckin' business!”
         “Ok. Fine,” Janna quietly agreed as she rose from the chair. “I won't bother you again, Lynn. You can destroy yourself or anyone else you want, but I won't watch. Good night.”
         “I have to leave, too, Lynn,” Cody said as the door shut behind Janna. Suddenly staying in Lynn’s apartment felt wrong, like a trap. Janna's departure changed the feel of the room and Cody was no longer comfortable in Lynn's presence. What just happened? She felt off-balance. Could one beer affect her so badly? What was Janna all about?
         Lynn shrugged at her, but did not look away from her beer. She was lost in her head, somewhere Cody could not understand. An instant before, she would have needed to understand why Lynn pulled away so thoroughly. The urge to empathize with Lynn, however, left with Janna. Cody wanted to escape as easily as Janna had.
         “You'd better get home, Cody. Mornin' comes pretty early when you've been out most of the night.”
         “I'll call you," Cody quickly assured, wincing at how lame her voice sounded. “I just have that meeting in the morning.”
         Lynn's head lifted and she stared at Cody with pale, angry eyes. “Don't. Go home, Cody. Janna was right. Just go home.”

The End

-----------
The story in its original form:

CODY

She walks across the floor, bare feet rhythmically slapping the faded hardwood. Her body movement is a slow orchestration of thin arms and legs. The brown glass bottle in her hand tells me what she cannot.

“Sometimes you just gotta have a beer," she comments wistfully, dropping herself into a corner of our shared yellow couch. It is yellow, ugly, and seems to fade in vitality every time I visit. She is unable to look me in the eye as beer foam quickly rises to the lip of the bottle she cradles, disturbed by the sudden movement.

“Yeah," I reply noncommittally. She judges herself more harshly than I ever would.

“You can't change the world," she says, resurrecting our conversation from neglect. "You might change your little corner, but it wouldn't do much for anybody else."

I cannot change the world? I still believe, I tell her, smiling at my own naiveté. "I believe in me. I still believe in the power of people to alter their circumstances for the better."

She tilts the bottle to her lips as her eyes remain on me. Cool and all-knowing, like a grey mist over a frozen winter lake. "I never thought you were a fool, before this."

“I never thought to see your ears grow pointier, but I've been watching them change for six months."

A short laugh bubbles to her lips before she can remember she is irritable. She likes me to make her laugh. "You're terrible!"

"I thought I was cast as the naive idealist."

My careless humor chases away the timid laugh wrinkles on her face. She tries to cover her sudden gloom by drawing from her bottle once more.

"Don't worry, Sport. Life cures idealism."

She is so determined to be cynical! I want to say so, but her malaise has found a target. I have learned to hold my reply until she gets the venom out of her system.

“It's a cold fucking world out there. People hurt others they claim to love. Babies get raped here," she growls with intensity. "Cars swerve across lanes to hit squirrels and puddytats; people are forced to scrounge supper from garbage cans in this happy little place. Bombs blow living humans into thousands of bloody pieces," she stridently rants at me, at herself, and at the ghosts she refuses to acknowledge. "Whole races are vilified for incidental physical characteristics. And somebody'll always be there to ignorantly mutter, 'what are you?' as you cross the street."

Does she know, I suddenly wonder, how sensitive I am about my appearance, more masculine than feminine?

"Okay," I accept, seeming to agree with her. I want to say so much; I sense an over-abundance of words will be ignored, but I have things to say she should hear. "I know those facts. But I also know you can't let bad things overshadow the good."

I will find an answer to her vehement, world-weary viewpoint. "The sun still rises across the water through a soft, autumn mist. Baby chickens, right? They're soft and bright and yellow, and all the bad things in the world won’t change that. As long as people continue to pause, to help those less fortunate, I will believe in an ideal of pure goodness. Good things wash away the hurt."

She wants to believe, I see it in her wintry eyes. Our gazes are direct because there is truth-telling between us. I press my point. "I get pleasure by thinking of the easy blush of a firm, ripe tomato cupped in hand. Or the tingly shiver of snow melting down my collar, making snow angels in winter's first snowfall.

"Hey! Remember when we-last summer-we sat downtown, splashing in the fountain next to the lake?" I ask, reminding her of my favorite shared afternoon. "It was so hot my eyeballs were sweating."

She grins at me, recognizing a corresponding fervor. "You go, girl!"

"The exuberant kiss of a fat, black puppy, the warm comfort of old friends without expectations, and the heady epiphany of knowing you chose the right thing to do in a difficult situation," I add in a rush of misplaced passion. When I stop for breath, she rises, empty bottle in hand.

"You're so good for me." Her beer is empty, and I light a cigarette while she lithely crosses to the kitchen for another bottle.

She likes lighting my cigarettes for me, small hands cupped around her heavy, metal zippo. I have taken that pleasure away from her, this time. Across the apartment, her eyes trail my movements. Is anything comparably seductive to a knowing look from a mature woman? What could hope to compete?

"Ready for another coke? or a beer?" she asks abruptly, feet hesitating in the doorway. Her hands are deft; fingers twist off her bottle's cap with an expertise I do not envy.

I shrug, unruffled by the unexpected offer. She knows I do not drink. She drinks too much. "How about a beer?"

She retrieves another bottle and presents me with the one she had opened. "I thought you'd quit drinking."

"Sometimes you just gotta have a beer," I return her words to her without the signature of wistfulness hers had carried.

“How late can you stay?"

"Two, I guess," I admit with a reluctant glance at my wristwatch. Why do I resent the unexpected reference to reality away from here?

"I'm supposed to work at nine tomorrow morning."

Her bottle is open and she lights a short black cigar-an admitted affectation. "Good. If Janna sees your jeep in front of my house, she'll leave me alone tonight. I never should have fucked her."

I accept this new information without flinching. I know Janna through rumors in the community, and I tolerate Janna in deference to my friend. I'll never understand the attraction so many people have for less-than-equal relationships. Why is that preferable to being alone and self-respected?

"I was horny," she adds when I do not respond quickly enough.

"It happens."

"I don't know why it did. I'm not a lesbian. I like men with hairy chests, deep, masculine voices, and fat cocks;these are a few of my favorite things!" she sings aloud, in tune and grinning.

Is she drunk? I can't remember how many bottles she has opened since my arrival. I refuse to count them for her. And what do I say? I know she is not a lesbian. She has said so innumerable times, in previous conversations. But why fuck Janna, if she is not a lesbian? I do not understand, and I want to understand.

"Maybe it's a generational thing," I diffidently answer. I try to work through the thought as I give voice to it. "I mean, when you were growing up, there was all that peace and free love going on, so that would influence your behavior. If it feels good, do it, right?"

She gives me a dissatisfied shrug. Without answers herself, she rejects mine because it is not hers. Some questions we can only answer for ourselves.

“Janna was available and I was horny. Don't you ever get horny?"

"Of course I do," I say honestly. "I just don't let it control my actions." I hope she will not take offense, but I will not lie to save her feelings;I am not that sort of person. Her expression is unreadable as she draws from her beer.

"You can be however you want, with whomever you choose, and it won't effect me a bit. I care because I like and respect you, but I don't care enough to knot my knickers when you act in a way I, personally, would not."

"You see something worthwhile in me nobody else ever has." Her eyes are upon me, again. Her manner implies familiarity, promising intimacy we do not have.

For an instant I resent those eyes, and the potential lying dormant within them. How dare she, the oft-proclaimed hetro who fucked Janna-the-Whip, look at me, pale eyes smoldering with whatifs? She is nothing but a sundog, intense, but unable to give the heat of two suns.

I light a cigarette to avoid her gaze. What would she see? Even I do not have that answer. "It's a gift. I see good in everyone."

As though she senses a sudden distance in me, her smile is more kind than bitter. "Naive'. You haven't a clue about how the world works. Spoiled all your life, raised by feel-good humanists who shielded you from the realities of poverty, and your own lesbianism;you see good in everyone because you have no gut knowledge to define bad for you. When have you ever lain in bed all night, wracking your brain, vainly searching for a way to stretch your meager paycheck for rent and groceries?"

She knows my parents, but she does not know me as well as she thinks. Better than she ought, but not so well she can define me by what I have experienced.

"Please! You only know of me what I have chosen to share. My mothers shielded me from the harsher realities because they saw reason to protect me," I cheerfully counter, wanting our conversation to be enjoyable. I have a melancholy suspicion she left the conversation after the fifth or sixth beer, but her words do not offend me. They aren't meant to wound me, but to understand me. "What does this have to do with good and bad, or Janna-the-Whip, or-"

"What did you call her?" she interrupts, an expectant grin spreading across her seamed face. A face with true character, one of the Moms once told me when she thought I wasn't listening. She has a flexible face that can show an excited little girl learning to ride her bike for the first time, and a grown-up woman who's had to scrounge for simple beauty in life.

“Janna-the-Whip. A girl hears rumors," I lightly add as I finish my beer. "She's not really your type."

"And what's my type?" she challenges with a sweep of her hair.

I shrug, ignoring her blatant provocation. "You've been educated beyond your mutually simple upbringing, traveled over the world, and you have admitted problems with booze. Janna probably never passed the tenth grade, has lived in town all her life, and she has a criminal record. You said you moved here to put your life back in order. Do you realistically think being involved with an S&M dyke-who has a worse drug problem than you do-is a wise step towards fixing your life?"

"Nope."

“There y'go. Question answered."

She gives me an admiring look for my insight as she rises from the couch in a stretch of spine and muscle. "I wish I had known what you know when I was ten years younger. I wouldn't be where I am today. Another beer?

“Sure.”

I watch her walk to the refrigerator, and ask myself once more: What does this woman, who disrespects "het" women in the same breath as she avows her own preference for men-the same woman who cheerfully confessed to seducing the grocery boy, and fucking Janna-the-Whip-what does knowing her give me that I seem to need?

I spent the summer camped in her livingroom, talking and laughing, learning the boundaries of our friendship. Now, six months later, I see her less often, but still I am drawn to her. She is right, I do see something worthwhile in her that others do not. I can live with the misconceptions of other people quite comfortably. Her inability to see herself in a positive light disturbs me deeply, on a level I will never verbalize. I want her to care about herself as much as I care for her. Naive' I may be, but I am also a realist. Some things just aren't meant to be as we wish.

"Hey, come back!" She waves a callused hand before my face to get my attention. "You're wearing your pensive look. Have another beer; they always make me feel better. So do you."

"Stop, or I'll blush," I threaten with a smile.

"Not you," she confidently assures as she returns to the couch. "I love talking to you, you know. It's too bad you have to work tomorrow. I could keep you here all night instead of half."

"Yeah," I agree, not letting myself dwell on the myriad of possibilities flashing through my mind. "I wish life could be a long, intense conversation with plenty of cigarettes and no place to go."

She smiles back at me, sharing the secret, and lifts her bottle in salute. "For us, it is."

JANNA

I see her jeep as soon as I turn onto Jameson Street. My first reaction is a sharp stab of anger. Why does she return here, like a suicidal moth fluttering against a naked light bulb on a darkened street? Her mothers would be pissed if they knew she was wasting her time on Lynn. And then I ask myself--why should I care? Nosy inner voice.

"None of my business," I sternly remind myself as I pass the shabby apartment building. She hasn't given me the time of day in years. At work, when we pass each other, all she gives me is a furtive 'hello';I feel like she's afraid somebody might discover she knows me. Even with both of us knowing Lynn, she ignores me. I don't understand what I ever did to make her avoid me so much. Brooding has become my middle name.

Thinking of her, I swing my car around the block, and find a spot to park, three houses from Lynn's building. Here, I can see the jeep, and the light in the livingroom. I want to march into 2B, pull her up by her collar, and drag her naive' little ass away from Lynn's influence. I won't, mostly because my last try at stepping between them backfired, but the pull I feel towards her is too elemental to ignore for long.

Four months ago, worried by rumors they were an item, I stopped by to talk to Lynn after work. I was blunt, but we've known each other too long and too well for me to play nice. I wasn't cruel. I laid it out straight for Lynn. I asked her to stay away from the kid, give her a break. There were other women she could have in town. Her predatory interest wasn't going to win her any awards. Stay away from the young and naive';let her cut her teeth somewhere else.

Lynn just smiled and popped the cap on another beer. It was nothing to her until she found out I was interested. She must have heard the implied threat, read my true feelings. Life has sucked the tact right out of me.

She told me she wasn't interested in callow youth, preferring the strength and experience of a woman her own age. Clumsy pass. I had my fill of Lynn before she left town, seventeen years ago, and I turned her down flat. Lynn was pissed, but I'm not half as stupid as I was back when we were lovers. I've grown and matured. I'm thirteen years clean and sober, celibate, and AIDS-free, despite all the drugs I’ve done. I plan on keeping it that way.

My watch timer beeps at me, reminding me of the world outside my head. Have I been sitting here for so long, I wonder, glancing at the dashboard clock. 2:35 a.m. We have a union meeting tomorrow morning, I know she is scheduled to be there. Why is she still with Lynn?

I push away the answers crowding in on me, none of them I like, and push myself out of the car. I'll just stretch my legs, I lie to myself, fumbling in my tee-shirt pocket for a cigarette. No harm in a little exercise, right? Just happened to be in the area. Yeah, right. Somebody watching me would think I was some obsessive sicko, spying through windows late at night. In this crappy neighborhood I'd have to take a number to get arrested, so I figure I'm safe.

She's better than the crap I used to pump into me to dull my senses. I can see her profile through the window. She is softly backlit by the lamp Lynn keeps on the t.v., and I want so badly to be the focus of the caring attention I see on her face. She has a special way about her, a presence that swells forward to embrace everyone she meets, and she hasn't a clue of her effect on others. Much less on me. If she knew, I'd be tongue-tied, not the smooth dyke with an attitude I see in the mirror every morning.

I'm drawn to her, and I tell myself that I oughtn't be surprised that Lynn is, too. I hate that voice of reason, butting in where it doesn't belong, making me feel stupid. I'm practically as old as Lynn is, neither of us should encourage this young woman's curiosity about the other side of life. Too much booze, not enough money, drug deals made in the kitchen while somebody's kid plays house in the next room. When I think of how reality would dim the light in her eyes, my heart aches for her.

At least I don't live like that any more. At least I admit I have no right to approach her. Lynn seems to get a twisted pleasure in corrupting her, and I feel like an angry bear whose cub is in danger. I am angry at Lynn for her. Do I stand by and let Lynn wreck her life, ruining her future relationships as Lynn did mine? Lynn's touch would spoil her freshness, the innocent belief she has that the world is still good.

I can't stay away from the either of them-or the hassle, and I flick my half-smoked cigarette towards the middle of the street. I have to invite myself inside Lynn's apartment. Maybe, if I can turn this around before it goes too far, I'll get to sleep before dawn for a change.

LYNN

FUCK! What's Janna doing here? I stare at her through the peephole in the door, resenting her presence. She's like a bulldog where this kid's concerned. I want to ignore her, but knowing she won't go away unless I let her into the apartment, I open the door wide for her. I still have a few manners left.

"Mornin', Sunshine."

Janna glares balefully at me, and pushes her way through the open door. God, she looks hot. Bitch always has, too; I'll never forgive her for leaving me. She'd suck anything I even put near her mouth, and she could make me cum with a hooded glance across the room. "You're drunk."

"Usually am," I smart off, deciding to stick with a flippant mood. I'm a drunk, right? I get to say whatever I damnwell please. If Janna expects the worst of me, she'll get it tonight. “Getcha a beer?”

Ignoring me, Janna stalks into the livingroom and sits on the battered loveseat that lies at 90 degrees to the couch. The furniture doesn't match, but who really gives a flying fuck about decor? It all looks the same through blurry eyes.

"Janna, you know Cody," I introduce with a smirk. The discomfort on Cody's angular face makes me want to giggle, but I suppress it in favor of lighting a cigar. Janna has muscular forearms flexed, resting them on her knees. It makes the room seem smaller as I curl into my corner of the couch.

"We're old friends, Janna and I."

The kid manages a smile Janna does not see-she's too busy glowering at me to notice the embarrassment on Cody's face. I notice; I'm drunk, not stupid. Janna has the hots for this little baby butch, and Cody is too fucking inexperienced to see it. Somewhere in the middle is little ol' me.

“You're drunk, aren't you?”

“Think asking me that repeatedly is gonna sober me up? What're you doing here, Janna?"

Janna throws a furtive glance at the kid. Does Cody's presence make her hold her tongue? This could be a happy little party-for me. Nothing would make me happier than to rip Janna to shreds in front of little Cody. This might just work to my benefit.

“I saw the light. Thought I'd stop.”

Blatant lies from a tongue I once squirmed under. FUCK. I ache so damn bad.

“Did you move?”

Suddenly the kid asks what I'm too fucked up to think of, and the ache ebbs it's grip on my insides. Will she be an ally? I hope so; thinking of the expression on Janna's face, if she leaves and the kid stays the night with me...makes the world a fun place for me.

“Yeah,” I share my witty two-cents, smiling innocently at Janna. “Thought you lived t'other side of town.”

Her expression is blank, distant. Black eyes are wide and curious as she looks from Cody to me and back. Smiles faintly, like she has the royal flush. “I do, Lynn. Who said I was on my way anywhere special? I was in the area, saw the light, and decided to say hi. Something wrong with that?”

“Maybe,” I blurt before I can think of anything else. Shit, I feel like I've been drinking all day-wait-I HAVE been drinking all day! A high pitch laugh I do not expect escapes out my mouth, and I am immediately horrified. Fuck. “I need another-either of you wanna a beer?”

Cody looks down at the bottle in her hands, and shakes her head as I pass her spot on the sofa. She looks like an overgrown brat whose favorite puppy got run over by an 18 wheeler. Janna really knows how to fuck up a night.

I ignore Janna and sail into the kitchen. Another beer, another chance at oblivion. Why does everything I touch turn to shit? The kid wants me so bad-I can feel her puppy-dog eyes on me every time I move. Janna-geez! I fucked up with her years ago. The only reason she comes around is the kid. I'd take either of them, but all I want is another goddamned beer.

“I should be going pretty soon.”

I pause in the doorway, staring at the kid. Where did she have to go so late? “You just got here! Don't let Janna Grumpy Bear scare y'off, Cody.”

Cody shrugs, still looking at her hands. She has barely touched her beer. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning, that's all.”

“So do I.”

Of course Janna has to throw in her two cents! “You can leave any time, Janna,” I inform her as I return to the couch. “Why don't you leave me alone? Why do you bother?”

She blinks at me. “I worry about you, Lynn. I worry you'll never get out of the booze fog that makes you live like you do. I worry you'll hurt somebody besides yourself.”

I frown at her, resenting the advice. Does she think she's the first person who has told me that? Fuck it! I have a few things to say. “You're here 'cause you don't want me taking Cody before you can,” I say what I feel like saying.

Cody's head snaps up, looking from me to Janna and back. “What?”

Janna's dark head shakes slowly. “That's not it, Lynn. She doesn't need either of us, and I think you know it. I'm very aware of the fact. You need to stop drinking. Cody needs to get her butt home so she can sleep before her meeting, and so do I.”

“I drink because I want to-mind your own fuckin' business.!”

“Ok. Fine,” Janna quietly agrees, rising from her seat. “I won't bother you again, Lynn. You can destroy yourself or anyone else you want, but I won't watch. Good night.”

and THEN

“I have to leave, too, Lynn,” I say as the door shuts behind Janna. Suddenly, staying here feels wrong. Janna's departure changes the feel of the room, and I'm no longer comfortable in Lynn's presence. What just happened here? I feel off-balance. Could one beer effect me so badly? What was Janna all about?

Lynn shrugs at me, but does not look away from her beer. She is lost in her head, someplace I cannot understand. A moment ago I would have needed to understand why she pulled away so thoroughly, but I don't, now. I just want to leave here so badly;I feel hemmed-in and awkward.

“You'd better get home, Cody. Mornin' comes pretty early when you've been out most of the night.”

“I'll call you," I quickly assure, wincing at how lame my voice sounds. “I just have that meeting in the morning.”

Lynn's head rises, and she stares at me with pale, angry eyes. “Don't. Go home, Cody. Janna was right. Just go home.”