BeautyandtheButch (2 page)

“You look ama…just fine. You look fine.” Lindsey fished in
her back pocket and withdrew a list of questions she’d scribbled. Typical
stuff. But she still wanted it in front of her. For some reason, she was having
a hard time concentrating.

Even more irritating than her inability to focus was the
fact Maurice had taken notice. He eyed her conspiratorially as he came forward
with the clip-on mic. “Would you like to do this?” he asked. His lips quivered
as he battled a grin.

Without words, Lindsey snatched the mic from him and stepped
over the tangle of wires. “Can you…uh…unbutton your…your jacket so I can clip
this inside?”

Blue eyes laced with thick brown-velvet lashes gazed up at
her. “Sure.”

Lindsey focused on Ella’s short, naturally manicured nails
as she slowly unbuttoned the three buttons of her pink jacket to reveal an
almost see-through silky shell underneath. Most of these girls sported those
nasty dragon lady tips that made Lindsey cringe at the thought of being
fingered by one of them.

But these nails…

A momentary fantasy of Ella’s index finger finding its way
inside her pussy caused Lindsey’s channel to clench around its own emptiness.

To add to her distress, more of that delectable fragrance
wafted up as she reached inside to clip the mic onto Ella’s collar where it
wouldn’t show. Lindsey cursed under her breath as she adjusted and readjusted
the clip.

It wasn’t so much the proximity of her hands to the soft
curves of Ella’s breasts but the fact that Ella’s gaze still lingered on her
face, making Lindsey feel as if the camera had been turned on her instead of
the other way around.

Lindsey prided herself on being no-fuss, but right now she
wished she’d put on some lip balm before she’d come into the hotel. She wanted
to melt into the garish crimson-carpeted floor.

Get ahold of yourself!
She breathed in through her
mouth and released the breath through her nostrils. She was being silly. None
of this mattered. This Barbie doll wasn’t interested in
her
. And even if
she were, Ella wasn’t Lindsey’s type. Well…

Once the mic had been clipped on, Lindsey moved behind Ella,
reaching under her arm and jacket to clip the transmitter onto the waistband of
Ella’s skirt. Her skin was warm through the silk blouse and Lindsey resisted
the desire to let her fingers linger.

“Say a few words for me so I can check the sound,” she said,
reluctantly moving back behind the camera.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Ella said.

From the reading, Lindsey determined the mic needed to be
just a little closer. Standing so that her legs were only a fraction of an inch
away from Ella’s, she unclipped it and moved it higher on the delicate pink
collar. “Try that.”

“I’m still at a loss for words,” Ella said and smiled. “To
be honest, I’m nervous about being on camera.”

“Pretend it’s not there. Talk like it’s just you and me.”
Lindsey didn’t intend to imply underlying intimacy, but there it was like a big
old elephant in the room.

Ella’s gaze met hers and Lindsey looked into the camera to
avoid those pretty blue eyes, lest they see too much.

“State your name,” Lindsey said as Maurice moved the silver
reflectors into place.

“Ella Northington.”

“Where are you from, Ella?” Lindsey had done similar
interviews a thousand times, but for some unknown reason, she sensed this one
was significant.

“I’m from a small town called Lafayette near the Georgia and
Tennessee border. Where are you from?” Ella asked, the question surprising
Lindsey. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be answering, not asking.”

Lindsey let out a little laugh. “That’s okay. I’m from a
small town in Pennsylvania, but now I call New York home.”

“How exciting,” Ella said, but her tone wasn’t patronizing.
She sounded genuinely intrigued.

Best to stay focused. “How many pageants have you been in?”

“Miss Georgia National makes my twelfth.”

“So, you’re a pageant veteran. How many have you won?”
Lindsey stepped back from the camera and looked over the top of it.

“I’ve been a finalist in four and have won two.”

“Impressive,” Lindsey said blandly. “Why do you do it?”

Ella never missed a beat. Her smile remained fixed, her eyes
determined. “I compete in pageants for the scholarship money, and of course to
promote my platform.”

Platform? She made it sound as if she were running for some
sort of political office. Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your
platform?”

Her chin lifted slightly. “I want to raise awareness for
cystic fibrosis.”

“So, I understand there’s a talent portion for the
contestants who reach the top twelve. What is your talent?”

“If I am lucky enough to reach the top twelve, my talent
will be a baton-twirling routine.”

“Were you a high school or college majorette?”

Ella shook her head slightly. “No, I was never a majorette.
I was a USTA competitive twirler.”

“USTA?”

“United States Twirling Association.”

Lindsey raised an eyebrow. “Is that like the X Games?”

Ella’s smile widened but she never lost her almost icy
control. “I suppose it is similar to the X Games. It’s considered a sport.”

Lindsey sucked on her top lip. “I understand your father’s a
congressman?”

At this, Ella’s resolve seemed to waver, but only slightly.
Lindsey wouldn’t have noticed it had she not been studying the contestant
through the camera.

“Yes.” Ella didn’t elaborate.

Instinct told Lindsey there was something more but now was
not the time to pursue the obviously sensitive topic of the congressman. She
glanced at Maurice, who seemed rapt by Ella’s icing-on-the-cake perfection.
This was going to be a long week. Here she was interviewing ditzy
baton-twirling blondes when she could be producing a real news show.

“One more question,” she said. “What will you do if you win
Miss Georgia National?”

“If I’m lucky enough to win, I’ll go on to compete in the
Miss USA National.”

“Are you excited about the possibility of meeting David
Thurman?” Lindsey asked, watching for some sign of emotion in the contestant’s
eyes. Surely any beauty queen would be thrilled to attract the attention of the
billionaire sponsor of the national pageant—especially given the fact that his
name was often romantically linked to former winners.

“Who wouldn’t be thrilled to meet Mr. Thurman?” Ella had
dodged the question with aplomb.

“And if you don’t win?” Lindsey asked. “Will you continue to
enter pageants?”

“I’ll definitely continue to participate in those pageants
with good reputations.”

The door opened and a smiling brunette with dark-chocolate
skin peeped in. Her lips formed an
O
when she saw the camera was
running.

“No, come in,” Lindsey said. “We’re just about through.”

The contestant slipped in but stood next to the door to wait
her turn.

Lindsey skirted the camera to remove the mic from Ella’s
clothes. Normally interviewees ran on at the mouth, revealing things they
didn’t intend to. It was funny how a camera and the idea of being on national
television did that to a person. Suddenly they thought themselves interesting
enough to have their own reality series.

Not Ella.

She remained friendly but frustratingly tight-lipped, no
doubt thanks to lessons she’d learned from her politician father. Once she was
free of the mic she stood. “Thank you.”

Lindsey nodded. “Leave your contact information with
Maurice. We’ll be shooting throughout the pageant.”

“I have a card,” Ella said, retrieving her clutch. She
reached in, withdrew two cards and handed one to Lindsey and then one to
Maurice.

Maurice chuckled. “I like this job. Girls are giving me
their
phone numbers.”

Ella gave him an indulgent little laugh.

“I’ll be calling you,” Maurice added with a wink.

“I’m counting on it,” Ella said and then with a little wave
to Lindsey, she left.

Lindsey watched the vision in pink disappear out the door.
Ella’s close-to-the-vest responses to the questions could only mean one thing.
She obviously had something to hide and it most likely had to do with her
congressman father. Determination to ferret out the beauty’s secret fueled
Lindsey. This blonde might be just the ticket she needed to get that coveted
interview with
Global Now
.

Statuesque beauties flocked around Maurice, who seemed to be
thoroughly enjoying the attention. Lindsey sat at the hotel bar nursing a beer
and watching for Ella Northington to make an appearance.

Lindsey had spent the rest of the afternoon pondering the
blonde contestant. On the surface she seemed like the typical pageant princess.
But the camera didn’t lie and when Lindsey looked back at the footage she’d
filmed, she noticed a taut sense of control, an icy veneer that never cracked,
even for an instant.

Doubtless, whatever lay beneath that polished exterior would
make for good television. But something darker—something Lindsey didn’t want to
define—also powered her interest in Ella.

Something more than just Ella’s blatant femininity reminded
Lindsey of Reagan.

Lindsey drained her beer and sat it on the counter, intent
on catching the bartender’s eye to order another when she noticed Ella walking
quickly through the hotel lobby.

If Lindsey hadn’t been looking for her, she wouldn’t have
seen her. Ella’s ponytail, gray tank, skin-hugging jeans and flats were a far
cry from the pink perfection she’d worn that morning.

Lindsey pulled a five out of her pocket, tucked it under her
empty bottle and followed. She reached the door to the hotel just in time to
see Ella crawl into a cab. “Did she happen to say where she was going?” Lindsey
asked the bellhop. When he didn’t readily answer, she continued. “She left
her…wallet in the hotel bar. I’m with TLN and she’s filming with us.”

“I heard her ask the cabbie if he could take her to Twist.”

“Can you call me a cab?”

The bellhop stepped into the drop-off area and raised his
hand. Immediately a yellow van pulled around. “Thanks,” Lindsey said and
pressed a couple of bucks into the bellhop’s hand before she climbed into the
van.

“Where you headed?”

“Twist.”

As the cabbie pulled away, Lindsey speculated as to what
Twist might be. Ella hadn’t been dressed for fine dining. From the name, it was
probably a bar or a club. Lindsey hoped it’d be some sort of place where she
could watch from afar. She’d hate to run into Ella and come off looking like a
stalker.

Twist happened to be all the way uptown in the fashionable
Buckhead section of Atlanta. Lindsey leaned up in the seat when she caught
sight of the sign. A flash of blonde ponytail indicated Ella had arrived and
was headed through the door.

Lindsey paid the cab driver and stepped out onto the
sidewalk. Bass reverberated from the modern-looking brick-and-glass building.
Two women walking hand in hand passed her and entered the bar. Realization
stunned Lindsey as yet a second pair of females walked in.

Twist was a lesbian bar.

Was that Ella Northington’s secret?

Lindsey’s insides knotted from a mix of dread and desire.
Had she mistaken the way Ella watched her when she’d pinned on that mic? Surely
Ella hadn’t been flirting. Or had she?

Lindsey swallowed thickly. Heat flamed in her cheeks and she
spun around to get back into the cab. More than anyone, she understood a
person’s need for privacy in the matter of their sexuality. Ella certainly
didn’t need to be outed by the Learning Network on a tawdry reality show.

The cab had already sped away.

“Damn,” Lindsey muttered. It wouldn’t be weird if Ella saw
me at a lesbian bar…

No. It wouldn’t be at all. She turned and walked inside,
surprised to find women actually dancing in a dark, unpretentious setting. The
place looked fun. An upstairs overlooked the dance floor, which was surrounded
by bars lit with brightly colored tubing. A mix of butch dykes and lipstick
lesbians sat scattered across the barstools and plush-looking sofas while
others danced.

Squinting, Lindsey scanned the darkened room for Ella,
finally discovering her, arms up, eyes closed, moving to the rhythmic dance
music. What would a congressman’s daughter be doing in a lesbian bar?

Ella didn’t seem to be
with
any one particular
person, but just the same Lindsey decided she’d observe from above.

Lindsey climbed the stairs and took a seat at the bar that
offered her a prime view of the dance floor.

“What’ll you have?” a pretty dark-skinned bartender asked.

“Whatever beer’s on special,” Lindsey said. Normally she
would have taken the opportunity to flirt, to talk, to make a connection that
might lead to a one-night stand. That wouldn’t be happening tonight.

Leaning on her elbow, she watched Ella who danced…well, literally
as if nobody were looking. The music seemed to hypnotize her.

Here, she looked at ease. She looked normal.

Free.

Lindsey, who’d never tried to hide her sexuality, tried to
imagine how difficult it would be to live a life in fear of someone finding
out. Her job had never hinged on her choices. And she hadn’t given a shit what
her family thought. Her father certainly hadn’t been an elected official.

Oh, they’d been
concerned
at first. But they hadn’t
been judgmental. Lindsey’s own mom had told her she’d known long before Lindsey
herself had figured it out.

Lindsey had mixed emotions about the responsibility of gays
and lesbians coming out. On the one hand, the more who revealed their
sexuality, the more society accepted them. And on the other…many were afraid
they’d lose their jobs, their friends, their families. Still, if Reagan hadn’t
been bullied, she might have been able to be open about her relationship with
Lindsey.

Ella never stopped to drink or fraternize. She danced, song
after song, moving to the music as if she were made of it. Misted with
perspiration and with errant strands of hair eluding her ponytail, she was even
more beautiful than she’d been in her pristine suit.

After her third beer, Lindsey had lost all inhibitions and
decided to dance. No sooner had she stepped foot on the dance floor than the DJ
switched to a slow song.

Ella stopped moving as if she’d decided to take a break and
her gaze found Lindsey’s.

Lindsey’s breath froze.

Ella’s eyes widened and she looked as if she might bolt so
Lindsey reacted. She put her arms around Ella and drew her close. “Dance with
me.”

Toe-to-toe they were surprisingly the same height. She’d
seemed much taller in that pair of killer heels she’d been wearing that
morning.

“Did you follow me here?”

Lindsey smirked. “Do I look all that out of place in a
lesbian bar?”

Ella didn’t smile. Nor did she laugh. Her feet reluctantly
moved to the plaintive strains of the love song. Every muscle in her body
seemed tight and inflexible. “I only come here to dance,” Ella offered. “I just
don’t want to get hit on by a bunch of sweaty guys.”

Up close, the beauty queen’s perfume was even more subtle
than it had been earlier. More alluring. As she closed the distance between
their bodies, the corner of Lindsey’s mouth tugged into a smile. “And you don’t
think a bunch of sweaty chicks aren’t interested in hitting on you? Try again,
princess.”

Ella’s gaze searched hers and Lindsey knew she was looking
for some sort of commonality that would render them conspirators. And confidantes.

Lindsey let her smile fade. “Look, I’m not here to out
anybody. Okay?”

“But I’m…I’m…”

“I understand,” Lindsey reiterated. “Your secret’s safe with
me.”

Finally some of the tension melted out of Ella and she
relaxed into the dance. “You did follow me, didn’t you?”

“Sort of,” Lindsey admitted. “Well, yes.”

“Why?”

Lindsey shrugged. “I suppose I recognized something
different about you. But frankly I never guessed it was
this
.”

At that, Ella laughed.

Lindsey gestured toward a group of professional-looking
women wearing suits and drinking martinis. “I mean, most lipstick lezzies look
like those gals.”

Ella’s smile looked almost sad.

“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “I shouldn’t have followed you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Ella said softly. “Now I have someone to
dance with.”

Everything in Lindsey’s body jolted from the shock of Ella’s
admission. This could fast become dangerous and Lindsey quickly checked
herself. Who was she kidding? She was from the wrong side of the tracks for a
beautiful woman like Ella.

And yet, Lindsey was unable to stop herself. She blamed it
on the beer. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Ella shook her head. “I stay too busy on the pageant circuit
for a serious relationship.”

Lindsey studied her. “Why do you do it?”

“The pageants?”

Lindsey nodded.

“The money to pay off my student loans,” Ella said. “My
parents had to use the money they’d saved for my education to cover my niece’s
hospital bills. She has cystic fibrosis.”

Lindsey’s lips parted. She’d seriously misjudged Ella.

“They’ve got too much to deal with already without me
heaping my sexuality on them,” Ella said.

“They don’t know?”

Ella shook her head.

Lindsey brushed a stray strand of blonde hair away from
Ella’s glossed lips. “It must be tough for you. Don’t you get lonely?”

“Yes, but there’ll be time for relationships in the future.”

“Do you plan to leave the South?” Lindsey asked as the song
ended and the DJ played something faster.

Lindsey had intended her question to be laced with
rhetorical sarcasm, but the haunted look that flashed in Ella’s eyes indicated
she’d touched on a nerve. This wasn’t really dance floor conversation.
Reluctant to let Ella go, Lindsey reached for her hand. “Come on. Let me buy
you a drink.”

They walked back upstairs to the bar where Lindsey had
opened a tab. “What’ll you have?”

“A skinny bitch.” Ella grinned.

“Besides me,” Lindsey joked.

Ella laughed, but the way she bit her bottom lip afterward
exposed an underlying truth. Lindsey’s nipples pebbled against her sports bra.

“It’s vodka mixed with Diet Coke,” Ella explained. “Not too
many calories. I wouldn’t want to burst out of my formal.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that at all.” Lindsey didn’t veil her
flirtatious sarcasm.
What the fuck am I doing? I can’t sleep with her. If
the executive producer found out…

Lindsey’s head spun to think of all the blowback she could
get from hooking up with one of her subjects—especially when that subject’s
sexuality would put
Pageant Princesses
on the map.

“A skinny bitch for the lady and another beer for me,”
Lindsey told the bartender. She turned back to Ella as she eased onto the
stool. “You haven’t answered my question yet. Do you plan to leave the South?”

“I don’t want to,” Ella said and sighed. “My family’s here.
I already have a job offer from the elementary school I attended…”

Lindsey pursed her lips. “I suppose we all have choices to
make.” She wondered if Ella would become one of those girls who experimented
with lesbian sex in college but went on to marry men and have kids, the house,
the dog and the whole American dream shebang.

“What about you?” Ella asked, changing the subject. “Are you
in a relationship?”

“Me? I travel too much.”

The bartender slid Ella’s drink toward her. “Thanks.” Ella
sipped it and turned back to Lindsey. “Do you miss it?”

“Being in a relationship?” Lindsey shrugged. “I’ve got a lot
of
friends
. A girl in every port so to speak. Nothing serious. I kind of
like it that way.”

Ella’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “What
about this port?” Her direct stare left Lindsey with no doubt she was being propositioned.

For sex. With one of the hottest women she’d ever seen.

Shit.

She cleared her throat. “You wanna fuck?” Her pussy warmed
and her clit throbbed with need. The thought of tasting this Georgia peach made
her mouth water.

Ella nodded. “I do. I like the idea of having a
no-strings-attached fling with you.”

God damn.
Lindsey scooted to the edge of her stool so
that her knees sandwiched Ella’s. “I can’t think about anything but kissing you
right now.”

Lindsey’s pulse rioted when Ella closed the remaining
distance between them and captured her mouth. She was every bit as soft and
sweet as Lindsey had imagined. Her lips tasted like bubblegum and when she
opened her mouth Lindsey tasted the bite of vodka.

She wanted to put her hands on this woman, to touch her
everywhere all at once, to deepen their kiss, to back her into a dark corner
and finger that delectable pussy. Somehow, she refrained from making a public
spectacle. She ended their kiss and resting her forehead against Ella’s,
savored it for a moment before she spoke. “I hope you’re ready to go back to
the hotel.”

Ella’s heart pounded as she stepped into the cab. She
debated confessing to Lindsey that she’d never actually been with a woman
before, but feared Lindsey would back out.

Though Ella had a steady boyfriend in high school and had
consummated her relationship with him, she’d always been attracted to women.
Now she’d finally summoned the courage to act on it.

Ella had been in dozens of pageants, but not once had she
been confronted with such desire for another woman. Pageant contestants were so
girly and well, straight. For the first time in her life, Ella realized she was
attracted to a
type
. The butch with black hair had left Ella in a
puddle. She’d always found herself drawn to actresses and images of women with
short hair and tattoos. But in person, Ella was powerless against the blatant
sexuality that emanated from Lindsey. From her coltish figure to the alpha
female timbre of Lindsey’s husky voice, she turned Ella on.

It was that sense of powerlessness that had Ella considering
doing something as illicit and dangerous as having a one-night stand—with a
woman.