My heart pounded as Regan reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I can't believe we're really here," Regan whispered. Her soft warm hand brushed my cheek. She kissed the tip of my nose, then my eyes, and she captured my mouth in a slow and satisfying kiss. She slipped her soft wet tongue between my lips and I could taste the citrus of her wine cooler. My body began to melt beneath her as her hands slid under my scrub shirt and explored my sensitive breasts. Regan removed my shirt and hers and tossed them onto the floor.

"Mmm...you feel so good to me," Regan cooed as she gently laid me down onto the couch and slid her soft supple body on top of me. Regan's soft curves molded perfectly into the contours of my body. She grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands over my head, then lowered her mouth to my breast. Her mouth sucked my nipple with tantalizing possessiveness. I groaned as the intense pleasure shot through my body.

"Shush..." Regan whispered. A smile graced her lips. I had forgotten that Tess was only a few feet away, asleep in her bassinette.

Instinctively, I slid my thigh between Regan's legs as we gently rocked together. Regan tugged at my swollen nipple with her teeth, intensifying the ache that was growing between my legs.

Myriad feelings flooded my senses, longing and lust grabbed my body, yet guilt screamed in my head as our passion grew. My head was telling me to slow down, to stop this altogether, but the rest of me wanted to charge full steam ahead as Regan's supple body rocked above me. I ached to touch her. Needed to touch her. I finally got my hands free and held Regan at the waist. I tugged open the buttons of her Levi's 501 jeans and slid my hand inside. There I was greeted by her slick heat. Regan moaned as my cool fingers made contact with her hot swollen flesh.

"I want you inside of me," Regan whispered. She covered my hand with hers and guided it inside. I slid one, then two fingers deep inside of her. Her insides quivered around my fingers, and I knew she was on the brink. Being with Regan this way brought back memories of our first time together, when Regan was a virgin. I didn't know that until we had gotten to this point the first time we made love. I remember looking into Regan's eyes and asking her if she was sure she wanted to go through with this...that I knew it was her first time. She nodded and I proceeded gently, lovingly being careful not to hurt her. But now things were different. There had been other lovers since then and I couldn't help but wonder how this compared.

"Please, Mina..." Regan's raspy voice tapered off. With two fingers inside of her, I caressed her swollen clitoris with my thumb, sending her over the edge with a few short strokes.

Regan collapsed in my arms as the tremors of ecstasy subsided. Regan lay on top of me as I listened to her breathing return to normal. The room was quiet. The only light came through the living room window from a street light in front of the house. Regan's breathing deepened and I knew she had fallen into a satisfied lover's sleep.

I closed my eyes as I lay there on her couch, panic welling up inside of me with a sudden intensity that took me by surprise. Fragmented thoughts of Regan and I together were interrupted by images of Tess and Jim. And then there was the strongest image of them all-Rosetti. What was I doing?

I sat up abruptly, practically dumping Regan onto the floor.

"What's wrong?" Regan asked, startled from sleep.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," I choked out.

Regan steadied herself, sitting back on the couch.

"Mina?"

"I can't...we can't do this."

Regan hung her head down and ran her hands through her hair. "I don't understand. I thought this is what you wanted."

"I thought it was, too. But things are different now. You have a husband...and I'm in love with someone else."

"What?" She sat on the couch, looking bewildered and weary. Dark circles under her eyes conveyed many sleepless nights.

"I'm in love with someone else. Although that may not matter anymore since I've probably messed up that relationship, as well. But, Regan, I'm sorry. This isn't right for either one of us."

Regan nodded. Her expression was somber.

"I better go." I stood and head toward the door.

"Wait." Regan grabbed my arm.

When I looked at her, I could see that something was gone from those crystal blue eyes. The fun, the laughter, the joy I once saw there was replaced by sadness and regret.

"I know what we had before was good. I just wanted to try and get that back. I thought you wanted the same thing."

"I thought I wanted it, too. But it's not real. I'm sorry."

Regan shrugged and turned away. I reached out and cupped her face in my hands.

"Regan, I love you, I always will. But I'm not in love with you. We're not the same people we were five years ago. Maybe that's a good thing."

Tears formed in Regan's eyes. I pulled her close.

She broke our embrace and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"There is one thing I want you to know. Even though we're not together doesn't mean I'll abandon you. You can always call me if you and Tess ever need anything."

Regan nodded.

Tess let out a short cry and began to fuss in her bed.

"Sounds like someone is getting hungry."

"Right on schedule," Regan said.

"I'm sorry this didn't work out." I touched Regan's arm.

She nodded. "Me too."

I found my discarded shirt and pulled it over my head as Tess cried out again, this time a longer high-pitch cry.

"You better go," Regan whispered, then walked me to the door.

I walked to my car into the cool clear night. As I backed out of Regan's driveway, tears blurred my vision. Letting go of Regan was harder than I'd imagined. But in my heart, I knew it was the best thing for all of us.

As I drove down Regan's street, a black pickup truck recklessly turned the corner, practically side-swiping my car. When I caught a glimpse of the driver, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The pickup turned into Regan's driveway. I knew Jim had returned.

Torn between being afraid for Regan's safety and knowing my presence would only make the situation worse, I drove around the block, then parked on the street one house up from Regan's where I would have a clear view of what was happening. If Jim started trouble, I could call 911 on my cell phone.

I watched Jim get out of the truck. He staggered toward the door and pulled on the knob and tried to open it. It was locked. He took his keys out of his pocket and kept jamming them into the lock, but the door still wouldn't open. "Fuck," he said, then stuffed the keys into his pants pocket. Frustrated, he knocked on the door. After a few minutes, when there was no answer, he started to pound on the door with his closed fist.

"Regan! Open the door," Jim's voice pierced through the quiet night. The house was dark and there was no movement inside. Jim pounded on the door again. "Goddamnit, Regan! Open the fucking door!" Jim relentlessly pounded on the door. I admired Regan for her resolve in not letting him in. I kept my cell phone close at hand in case things escalated.

Jim kept the pounding up for close to twenty minutes. When it was evident that Regan wasn't going to let him in, he gave up and got back in his truck. Jim slammed the truck in gear and screeched out of the driveway. The tires squealed as Jim drove away. I didn't want to leave until I knew he was really gone, so I waited and watched him reach the corner where he blew through the stop sign. Then as if someone's prayer had been answered, a police cruiser appeared with red and blue lights flashing. The cop pulled Jim over to the side of the road. By the time I drove by, the police officer already had Jim in handcuffs. I was sure he was arrested for DUI, an offense that would at least keep him in jail overnight. What a loser.

After all the drama at Regan's, I was too wired to sleep, and I really didn't want to go home to an empty apartment again. So I drove across town to my old hangout, the Other Side Lounge, the only lesbian bar in the area. I hoped a drink would calm me down enough to go home and sleep. The parking lot was packed; many of the cars were from a nearby college in Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania. The girls from Slippery Rock would come to Youngstown every weekend to party. They were beautiful, athletic, and educated, and in my partying days, everyone looked forward to seeing them. As a matter of fact, getting a Slippery Rock girl to go home with you was a big deal. It was a conquest any respectable lesbian would be proud to boast about.

I slipped in the back entrance of the bar. It always amazed me how anyone could find these places. There was no sign, only a colored light glowing over the entrance. There was no cover charge, which meant there was no drag show that night. That was okay with me because I wasn't in the mood for off-key singing, six-foot-two Whitney Houstons or chubby Alexis Carringtons sporting a diamond tiara and a five o'clock shadow.

The bar was smoky and loud as Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus" blared over the sound system. The only bar stool available was between two bull dykes dressed from head to toe in black motorcycle leather. I squeezed between them and sat on the stool patiently waiting for Sonny, the bartender, to take my drink order. Sonny was a burly guy, short and stocky, and dressed in his usual Cleveland Browns apparel. He wore a brown and white jersey with the block number nineteen, Bernie Kosar's number, stretching across his barrel chest and a brown corduroy Browns baseball cap-not your typical flamboyant gay bartender.

"How're you doin', Doc?" Sonny wiped the warped mahogany bar with his dingy bar towel and placed a white paper napkin in front of me. "What'll it be tonight?"

"Michelob Light," I said, pushing a five-dollar bill toward him.

Sonny snatched up the five and lumbered over to the cooler. He pulled out a brown bottle of Michelob Light and ran the bar towel over the bottle, wiping off the dripping ice water, and twisted off the top. He set the bottle in front of me along with my two dollars and fifty cents in change.

"Thanks, Sonny." I pushed the two fifty back to him.

"Thanks, Doc." Sonny winked as he picked up the tip.

I took a long pull on my beer. It was icy cold and felt good going down. It was just what I needed to calm my frazzled nerves.

"Hey, Doc, where's Rosetti been? No one's seen or heard from her in weeks." Sonny stocked the cooler with cans of Budweiser and Miller Light beer.

"She's on a stakeout. It's been almost a week since I've seen her, and that was for only a few minutes last week at a funeral for one of her colleagues."

"Was it Pam Grier's funeral?"

I nodded.

"Did you know Pam?"

"Yeah, she used to come in here every once in a while," Sonny said. "How sad she died that way, she was so young."

"Pam used to come here?" I asked, surprised.

"Uh-huh. She used to come on the nights Rosetti was working security. I think Pam was just coming out at the time. And since she and Rosetti were both cops, I think she enjoyed talking to her."

"Really?"

"At first, I thought Pam had a thing for Rosetti. But I don't think anything ever happened...you know between them. I think they were just friends."

Astounded by this news about Pam Grier and Rosetti, I ordered another beer. They were going down easy...way too easy. Sonny attended to his other customers while I pondered this shocking information. So Pam was gay. Rosetti must have known but never said anything. I wondered why.

The music changed to a slow song. Couples climbed up on the elevated dance floor, holding each other close, swaying hypnotically to the music, carrying them off to warm romantic places. Butches danced with femmes, one arm circling their waists while the other arm held their hand close to their heart.

I drained the rest of my beer and was about to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Cautiously, I turned around. A beautiful young woman stood there wearing a green and white Slippery Rock sweatshirt and a form-fitting pair of Calvin Klein jeans. She appeared quite nervous. She was obviously one of the girls from SlipperyRockUniversity, and she stood before me smiling a perfect smile that must have cost her parents a lot of money.

"Hi, I'm Jessie, would you like to dance?"

"Oh...thank you...but no. I'm not much of a dancer," I said, trying to be as gentle as possible since I knew it took a lot for this girl to get up the nerve to ask a stranger to dance.

"Can I buy you a drink then?" Jessie asked, stepping closer. So close I could smell her perfume. It was a clean scent, not flowery or spicy like most perfumes, but fresh like soap. She smelled like youth. The closer Jessie got, the more I could see that she was at least ten years younger than me.

I knew by the look in Jessie's eyes that this could be easy, that I could have this girl if I wanted her. She was beautiful, and the old Mina would not have thought twice about taking advantage of this young woman. My body was weakening at the thoughts of what might happen with her, but my heart protested loudly and my head finally listened. I looked down at the floor and shook my head. "Thank you, but I really have to go."

Jessie looked down, disappointed. I reached out and touched her arm.

"Thank you for asking. But I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."

Jessie looked up and gave me a weak smile. "Are you seeing someone?"

"Not exactly, but there is someone in my heart."

"I understand...maybe another time...you know if things don't work out." Jessie slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand.

We said our goodbyes, and Jessie turned around and disappeared into the crowd. I waved goodbye to Sonny and headed for home. On my way out of the bar, I unfolded the piece of paper Jessie had slipped me. Seven digits of a phone number and the letter J. I crinkled it up and tossed it away.

The apartment was pitch dark as I opened the door. I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and just wanted to go to bed and forget about everything for a while. I flipped on the light and stared at the couch in disbelief. Rosetti was curled up under my grandmother's afghan, sound asleep. The very place I had left her almost two weeks earlier.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Rosetti stirred when I sat next to her on the couch. She opened her eyes, blinked, then rubbed them with the heels of her hands. She glanced over at the clock on the wall over the television.

"Jesus, Mina, I thought you were never gonna come home," Rosetti said. "Busy night at work?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked, shaking inside, afraid to move because maybe this was a dream and I'd wake up.

"It's all over," Rosetti said. "We got them."

"You caught the guys who killed Pam?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

I threw my arms around Rosetti's neck and hugged her tight. "What happened?" I asked, still amazed she was here in my apartment.

"We had the place surrounded with close to twenty units. The SWAT team was even there with their armored truck. There must have been police officers from two counties securing the perimeter. After about twelve hours of trying to talk them into surrendering peacefully, one of the SWAT guys tossed in a tear gas canister." Rosetti said. "Tear gas is a wonderful deterrent."

"So they gave up after that?"

"Not without a fight. Two guys came out with their hands up. The last guy came out staggering and choking from the tear gas. As he came through the doorway, he raised his gun and fired several shots at us."

"Oh, my God..." I reached my hand to my mouth.

"The shift commander and I took cover behind my vehicle door and were able to get a couple of shots off each. We both hit him. He died at the scene."

"Oh, my God, Rosetti, how awful. Are you all right?" I studied her eyes, looking for what might be there that she wasn't telling me, looking for any signs of post traumatic disorder.

"Right now I feel kind of numb. Like it hasn't sunk in yet," Rosetti said. "Of course, we won't know whose shot killed him until the ballistics report is in. Internal investigations had us both in post-event interviews all afternoon and evening." Rosetti rubbed her temples. "Until they finish their investigation, as per protocol, the lieutenant and I are off on paid administrative leave. They had us talk to the department's psychologist before we punched out this afternoon."

"What a terrible ordeal. You could have been killed," I said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She stood and stretched her arms over her head, still groggy from sleep. I stood, as well, facing her, studying her body language, trying to read what she was thinking. She reached for me, her hands slipped up my arms, leaving a sensuous tingle in their wake.

"I can't believe you're here...and you're safe," I whispered and pulled her close, burying my face into her neck. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. I had all these visions of having to tell your mother that you were killed..."

Rosetti kissed the top of my head. "Shh. I'm fine."