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If the Morgan Banks wanted to have sex with her tonight Chloë knew that only her having a stroke would prevent it.
After Morgan had taken a sip of her own wine, she sat back down right next to her guest. Chloë was aware of every point their bodies were touching because of their proximity: Morgan’s knee pressing against one of Chloë’s thighs; Morgan’s arm brushing against Chloë’s shoulder. It was as if these points were electrical contacts sending a mild thrumming current through her form.
For several moments there was silence.
“Do you think we can go on a date?” Morgan suddenly asked.
Chloë blinked. She wasn’t expecting that.
“Um…sure!” she managed to get out.
“Sorry,” Morgan said. “I know you want more of an explanation of what’s going on tonight, but I don’t have one. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I wanted to kiss a woman and now I want to kiss that same woman even more.”
Chloë gulped. She was so ready for another kiss! And this time, she resolved to keep her hands to herself, or at least away from those tantalizing breasts.
“But I need time to process this!” Morgan lamented, dashing Chloë’s hopes of that third kiss. “Please don’t think I’m horrible.”
“Dude,” Chloë said, placing her hand over Morgan’s. “I don’t think you’re horrible.”
“Promise?”
“Super-duper promise,” Chloë insisted, squeezing Morgan’s hand.
“But I was serious, Chloë; I want to go on a date with you. Is that okay?”
Chloë knew there were lots of reasons she should say no, or at least hedge a bit until Morgan figured out what it is that she needs to figure out. But this was the Morgan Banks, asking her on a date!
“Dude, totally!” she said.
Morgan closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. When she opened her eyes again, she looked straight at Chloë.
“Listen to me, Chloë. I may not understand what is happening to me,” she began, “but…this much I know: I want to go on a date with you. And I’m not going to overanalyze that in this moment. If there’s one thing Covid taught all of us is that we need to live more in the moment and act to do things that we want to do. So, I’m just going to ask you for a date and if you say yes, then, wonderful; if you say no then…”
“Yes!” Chloë interrupted. “I’m saying yes.” She had decided that this was the second weirdest Friday of her life, bested only by the time she went to bed on a Thursday night with one woman in San Diego and woke up on Friday morning in bed with another woman, but in Mexico.
“But wait a minute,” Morgan hurriedly added. “I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to play mind games with you. The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you.”
“I know that,” Chloë assured her. And she did. There was something about Morgan’s earnestness which was making Chloë feel safe despite the fact that this whole situation was rife with pitfalls and danger.
“But I feel like you’re the one taking on all the risk here,” Morgan said nervously. “I mean, what if there isn’t a second date? What if there aren’t any more kisses?”
At that moment, Chloë felt her heart go boom! Morgan really did care about her, about how she might be harmed by whatever it was that was going to follow tonight.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she told her companion. “I’m going into it with my eyes wide open. And, you know what? If it doesn’t turn into anything, I promise I’ll still want to be your friend.”
“Promise?”
“Super-duper promise. So, what now?”
“Um…I don’t know. You’re the expert in kissing women. What usually happens now?”
Chloë bit her lip and looked off to the side.
“Well, actually, sex usually happens now—at least in my world—but as that’s not an option in this particular circumstance, all that really leaves is pancakes.”
Morgan’s eyebrows shot up.
“Pancakes?”
