Amy’s Birthday Week Ch. 01

Lesbian

(Author’s note: this is the first chapter of, hopefully, many to come. Things are relatively tame in this one, setting the stage for bigger things in the future. I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.)

(Author’s note II: this story takes place in the summer of 1993, a time when I myself had not yet been born. Apologies in advance for any historical inaccuracies.)

It was a good time to be Amy Lefebvre.

She had just completed her last exam of grade twelve, officially leaving high school behind her forever. The early summer weather was lovely and temperate, promising great things to come. And her eighteenth birthday was just around the corner. She was a bright, pretty young lady with a lifetime of promise ahead of her.

Indeed, a good time to be Amy Lefebvre.

She was a short, slight girl, with a gentle face that smiled often and easily. Her naturally brown hair was dyed jet black, and fell to just below her shoulders. Today she wore jeans and a black and white striped t-shirt. She wasn’t quite a goth, but she was definitely a little goth-ier than the mainstream, quote-unquote “popular” girls. She had all the popularity she wanted, though: a few close friends and a wide circle of acquaintances she was on good terms with. What more do you need, really?

As she made the short walk home from school that Friday afternoon, she was feeling quite satisfied with where her life was at that moment. At the same time, she was positively buzzing with nervous energy thinking of what the days ahead would bring. Her birthday was on Monday; just three days away. She would be legally an adult, with all the rights and privileges that came with it.

She was thinking about how best to exercise those privileges. She’d had a few discussions with her parents recently on that topic, and how she would spend the next weeks depended on what they ended up deciding to do. Things could go a number of ways, and she had plans for how to make the best of every contingency she could think of. These were among the multitude of thoughts that were spinning through her head as she walked through the front door of the house where she’d lived all her life–and found herself unexpectedly face-to-face with her father, Walter Lefebvre.

“Hiya, kiddo!” he said, scooping her up in a tight hug, lifting her petite body fully off the ground in the process. “How’d it go, eh? How’s it feel to have made it through high school?”

“Pretty great,” she said with a laugh as he set her down again. “What are you doing here? It’s only one o’clock. Shouldn’t you be at work? I wasn’t expecting you back for a few more hours.”

“I took a half-day today. There’s some errands I need to take care of this afternoon. I was actually headed right back out the door. In fact, you’re home earlier than I’d expected, too. I didn’t think I’d see you before I got back later.”

“Oh, did you want some company? I could come with you,” said Amy.

“No, no, no!” said Walt, shaking his head. “There’ll be plenty of errands to run in the future. As for right now, you’ve just wrapped a major chunk of your life, and I think you ought to spend the afternoon relaxing at home. I’d say you’ve earned it. Play some video games, read some comic books. Bask in the glory of this brief, shining moment that you’ve got no responsibilities! ‘Cause believe me, that won’t last for long.”

“Alright, you make a compelling argument,” she said. “Did you have anything planned for dinner? Did you want me to get something started while you’re gone?”

“No, no, no!” her father repeated. “No work! This afternoon is for relaxing only!”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she laughed. “I will devote the rest of the day to being a layabout.”

“That’s what I want to hear! I’ll see ya later, kid.” He hugged her once more and then walked out the door. Amy beamed as she watched him go. She loved her father. They got along exceedingly well, which was good news, because for the last two years it had mainly been just the two of them in the house, since her brother Will had gone off to U of M. Their parents had divorced when she was young, and their mother had relocated across the country. They kept up a regular correspondence of phone calls and letters, but rarely actually saw each other in person. Still, she was content with her family situation. She had freedom and privacy, but her dad was always there whenever she needed him.

Deciding that it would be best to keep her mind off of the topics that had occupied her walk home, she took Walt’s advice to heart, and spent the next few hours playing video games (she couldn’t get enough of Star Fox lately) and reading comic books (she’d been unsure about where Doom Patrol could go without Grant Morrison, but tentatively approved of the direction this Pollack lady was taking.) Before she knew it it was after five, and she was hearing her father open the door as he returned from his errands.

“Amy-girl!” he called from across the house. “I’ve got a real rus escort handful of stuff here, do you think you could come give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Dad!” she answered, and took off down the stairs to go relieve his burdens. She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached the bottom of the staircase and looked up to see half a dozen people standing in the doorway.

“SURPRISE!” they all shouted in unison. “Happy birthday!”

She looked over the crowd in the stunned silence. Her two best friends from school were there, Daisy Choi and Mary Gilder. Her older brother, back home from Winnipeg. And most surprising of all, her mother, Angela, all the way from Newfoundland!

“Wow!” was all she could manage to say as the scene slowly registered. She bounded across the foyer and was immediately enveloped in a group hug.

“You didn’t think I’d miss my girl’s big day, did you?” said Angela.

“Wow, this is incredible!” said Amy, rather muffled by the crowd of people wrapped around her.

***

The evening went by in a blur of laughter. Her father had ordered a lasagna (one of her favourite meals) and picked up a delicious cake. She caught up with her mother, who she hadn’t seen since the March Break. And she cheered with Daisy and Mary about the end of their high school careers and the beginning of the next chapter of their lives.

Finally, the party began to wind down. Her friends gave her one last hug and returned to their own homes, and Will cleared up all the dishes and began to wash them in the kitchen sink (living on his own had really done wonders for his work ethic regarding chores, Amy reflected.) Finding herself sitting at the kitchen table with just her parents, Amy felt supremely satisfied with how the day had gone. She couldn’t imagine how things could get much better. And then, somehow, they did.

“So,” said Walt, “there’s a few more surprises we need to talk about.”

“Oh? said Amy, raising an eyebrow. She wondered where this was going.

“Well,” he continued, “you’d talked before about wanting a taste of independence for your birthday. To see what it was like to live your life without your ol’ Dad looking over your shoulder. And with this being your eighteenth, I think that’s a perfectly reasonable request. So, this weekend, jam in as much family visit time as you can, because come Monday, everyone’s going home. Will will be returning to Winnipeg, your mother will be flying back to St. John’s… and I’ll be going with her. I’ve always wanted to see the East Coast. I’ve taken the next two weeks off work. I’ll spend a week in Newfoundland, then rent a car and spend the next week working my home.

“You’ll be the woman of the house,” he went on, “free to do as you please. No curfews, no supervision. Just you, and the newfound freedom of adulthood. Now, my original plan was to send you to Newfoundland. And if you’d prefer that, which I’d understand, I’ll happily give you my ticket and tell work that I’m cancelling my vacation. But when we talked before, you seemed really interested in just… getting a taste of adult life here. Seemed a little odd to me, but who am I to judge?

“So,” he concluded, “what do you say?”

Amy once again found herself at a loss for words. This was truly everything she could have hoped for. Not what most people in her situation would have asked for, but her dad had listened, like he always did. He really was the best.

“Two weeks alone here sounds incredible,” she said. “I love you guys.”

“I’m sorry that this means we’ll be leaving on your actual birthday,” Angela said, frowning a little. “Unfortunately, that was really the only day we could get the flight we needed.”

“Don’t worry about it!” said Amy. “Really. Everyone being here tonight was all the birthday celebration I could ask for from you guys.” She got up, walked across the table, and hugged each of them in turn.

As she lay in bed that night, she found herself unable to sleep for the longest time. She just lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her face split by an enormous grin. Next week would be a birthday week to remember. She’d make sure of it. She planned on welcoming eighteen with a bang.

***

The weekend was the most pleasant she could remember in a long time, but all the same she found herself almost unable to contain her excitement as her family piled into her brother’s car early Monday morning. Will was driving their parents into Winnipeg, where they’d catch their plane; Walter was leaving his car at home, for Amy to use during the next two weeks.

She waved at the car as it drove off, continuing to stare after it for a long time after it had turned the corner. Slowly, the situation began to sink in: as of today, she was eighteen years old. An adult. A woman. And for the next two weeks, she was living alone, with the house all to herself, and no one around to make sure sincan escort he behaved.

Which was good, because she hoped to misbehave quite a bit in that time.

Finally, she turned to go back into the house, and as she did so she allowed her mind turn fully, for the first time, to the topic that was of greatest interest to her now that she was eighteen: sex.

Daisy and Mary and many of her other female friends would have plenty to share on the subject, she knew. Stories of their encounters with various boys, comparisons of who was better, who knew how to please a woman, who had no idea what they were doing. All stories that weren’t much use to Amy, to be honest. Because, you see, she didn’t like boys.

She liked men.

While her classmates swooned over boys at school–athletes, theatre kids, brains, however their tastes ran–Amy found herself unable to muster any interest in any of them. She’d been out on a few dates in her time, had some fun, but ultimately none of the boys in her age group had sparked much desire in her. No, her tastes ran older. Quite a bit older, in fact.

While it wasn’t unusual for other girls to have their eyes on university guys, or even those a little older, in their mid-to-late twenties, Amy still found those to be a little too boyish. No, in her opinion, a man didn’t start to get truly attractive until he hit thirty. And they often just got better from there. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. Indeed, she had had a crush on her now-well-into-middle-age next door neighbour for most of her life.

(More about him later.)

She had always felt a little weird about her taste in men. A little embarrassed. A little gross, to be honest. But all that was changing now.

Now, on the cusp of adulthood, she felt a newfound confidence in her desires. No more shame. It was entirely right and proper, she thought, that a grown woman such as herself should desire the company of adult men. And after all, why not? Now, they were on equal footing. She could vote (sure to come in handy later that year.) She could drink (she pitied the American teens who had to wait till they were twenty-one to do it legally.) She could buy a house (well, no she couldn’t, she didn’t have that kind of money, but in theory…) Indeed, the possibilities of the adult world seemed endless, and she hoped to take full advantage of them at the earliest opportunity.

As it turned out, that opportunity seemed to be tonight. A night she had been looking forward to for a long time. Imagining what she might get up to filled her with excitement, and, to be honest, a little trepidation.

Alright, nerves, don’t fail me now, she thought. She figured the best way to prevent this would be to keep her mind off of her evening plans for as long as possible, so she called up Daisy and Mary and spent the day with them, enjoying their company immensely.

Once the evening came and they were preparing to go home once again, the talk finally turned to Amy’s evening.

“So, Birthday Girl,” said Daisy, “what are you gonna do on your big night?”

“Oh, nothing major,” she replied. “I think I’ll go on down to the Moose and order myself a beer. That’s traditional for an eighteenth birthday, right?”

“What, alone?” said Mary. “That doesn’t seem like much fun. You want us to come with you? It’s a special occasion, I’m sure our parents wouldn’t mind.”

“No, no,” said Amy, “you guys go on home. It may sound a little weird, but this is actually, something I want to do alone. It’s, uh… important to me, somehow.” She wasn’t sure how convincing she sounded. Nonetheless, the girls seemed to understand.

“Well, do what you gotta do,” said Daisy. “Just be careful out there, eh? Lotta weirdos and perverts hanging around the bar on a Monday night.”

Oh, I’m counting on it, thought Amy.

***

An hour later, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the mild night air. It was nearly eight o’clock and the sun was low in the sky, casting a beautiful glow across the world. Amy had thought long and hard about what to wear tonight, going back and forth across several potential outfits. She’d very nearly stepped out the door wearing a skirt with no panties, before deciding that was a little too much for her first night out. She’d gone back upstairs and put on a pair of underwear, before deciding to scrap the skirt altogether and changing into a pair of denim shorts. She wanted to look casual, she decided. Not like she was trying to impress anyone.

Finally satisfied, she stood on the front porch, taking in the view and contemplating her hopes for the night to come. Tonight, I’ll really become a woman, she thought to herself.

“Evening, Amy,” said a voice that made her heart skip two beats. She slowly turned her head to the right, bringing her eyes to rest on Grant McNeely. The man she’d been wildly in love with sıhhiye escort for most of her life.

A broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, grey-haired man of fifty-three, Grant and his family had lived next door as long as she could remember, and had always been on friendly terms with the Lefebvres. He and his late wife Nicole had six children (quite a lot by their neighbourhood’s standards), four girls bookended by two boys, most of whom were older than Amy was. Nicole had died of cancer four years earlier.

“Evening, Grant,” she said, flashing what she hoped was a casual smile. She was struggling hard to maintain composure; after carefully psyching herself up for tonight, Grant’s appearance had thrown something of a monkey wrench into her mental preparedness.

“Beautiful night out, eh?” he went on, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil roiling within her. “Say, ain’t your birthday coming up soon?”

“It’s, um, actually today,” she said with a gulp. “I’m just heading down to the Moose to buy myself a beer.”

“Well, well, happy birthday!” he said with a smile that made her weak in the knees. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time then. We’ll talk soon!” He waved and then turned around, walking through the gate into his backyard.

She continued to stare after him for some time. Soon, she thought to herself, soon.

***

The Angry Moose was the most popular bar in town, but seeing as it was a fairly small town, and seeing as it was a Monday night, things were pretty quiet. The bartender looked up at her as soon as she walked in, and immediately extended a muscular, heavily tattooed arm.

“ID,” he said. She proudly held out her driver’s license, which he took from her. He was silent for a few seconds, seemingly scanning the small card pretty thoroughly.

He’s probably just waiting to see if I panic, she thought. I bet he busts a lot of fakes that way. As hers wasn’t a fake, she didn’t panic, and in due time he handed it back to her.

“Happy birthday,” he said with a small smile. “What can I get ya?”

“Just a Labatt, I think,” said Amy. “I’m starting small.”

As he filled a glass for her, she turned and looked around the room, assessing her options. She was hoping someone would catch her eye quickly; she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to keep up her confidence otherwise.

There was a young couple on a date, a few senior citizens huddled in one corner, a group of university-aged boys in another… and a blonde man in his thirties at the end of the bar, nursing a beer as he watched a baseball game on the tv.

He wasn’t devastatingly handsome, but he certainly wasn’t bad-looking, either. He looked relaxed, friendly, and eminently approachable. In short, the perfect prospect for her first taste of adult men. When the bartender set down the glass in front of her, she grabbed it and walked over to the man by the tv, sitting down on the stool next to him.

“Who the Jays playing tonight?” she asked before taking a sip of her beer. The man turned to look at her, and seemed quite surprised by what he saw.

“Baltimore,” he said after a moment. “First of three. I got a good feeling about this one.” He turned back to the tv.

“I’m Amy,” she said, extending a hand.

“Pete,” he responded, taking it, looking more confused by the second.

“You come here often?” she asked, immediately kicking herself for using such a cliché line.

“Yeah, a fair bit,” Pete said. “I, uh, don’t get most of the sports games at home. I mostly come here for that.” He seemed a little embarrassed by the admission.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she said, trying to sound reassuring without crossing the line into condescending. Seeming cool was harder than it looked.

“Look, um, don’t take this wrong way,” he said, “but, uh, why are you talking to me? Girls like… well, girls don’t usually talk to me much around here.”

“Well, I happen to want to talk to you,” said Amy, “and since it’s my birthday you can’t say no. So you just gotta deal with it.”

“Oh, uh, happy birthday,” said Pete. He still didn’t seem to know what to make of her.

“I’m eighteen years old today.” She tried to sound sultry as she said it. She’d decided to cut right to the chase. “That’s a big number in a person’s life. How old are you, Pete, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Th-thirty-six,” he mumbled.

“Thirty-six.” She said the word slowly, rolling it across her tongue. “That’s twice my age. Pete, you were eighteen when I was born.” She squeezed her thighs together as she said it, thrilling at the wetness she felt there. She was loving this already.

“Y-yeah, I guess it does,” said Pete, looking more nervous than ever.

“Pete, baby,” she said, very deliberately, “what are you acting so worried about? I’m a grown woman. There’s nothing wrong with you and me talking to each other.”

“No, I guess not,” he said, seeming to relax a little.

“Although, if I’m being honest,” she went on, “talking wasn’t really my primary motivation for coming over here.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” she said. “What say you and me get out of here?”

“A-and do what?” he asked.

“Oh, you know,” she said casually, “I figure we can go back to your place and you can fuck my brains out.”

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