From: an365@anon.penet.fi (Akai)
Subject: Whitebird (story?)
Date: Thu, 4 Feb 1993 19:21:13 GMT

Akaie here, with what may be the first in a series of stories from my
past and present, depending on how interesting people find them.  (Nods
to Nurse Jones for inspiration, and Elf !!! for an (unintended) kick in
the pants to be a bit more forthcoming.)  This is the story of the
first woman I ever loved.  As always, feel free to distribute and
repost elsewhere, so long as it is done in full.  I can be reached at
an365@anon.penet.fi

                           Whitebird
                     copyright 1993, by Akai

I trace my coming out to myself as a bisexual to the day I realized
that I was in love with Whitebird.

Oh, sure, I'd made love to women before, but I'd also taken some
psychology classes.  Thus, I handily dismissed these infrequent and
guilty encounters as 'normal adolescent exploration.'  Obviously I
wasn't gay, I told myself, since I liked fucking men.  What can I say?
I was young.

But Whitebird, well, that was different.  *She* was different.

I was an undergraduate math and computer geek, stuffed to the gills
with theory, but with little practical experience.  So I decided, one
summer, to do an internship.

My boss was a Cal Tech PhD, prototypical computer geek.  Sweet but
socially hopeless.  He was quite friendly and supportive.  And, in this
sexist field, truly unprejudiced.  He was also a mediaevalist - a
member of the Society for Creative Anachronism.  We discussed the SCA a
bit over coffee at work - it sounded a bit like live D&D to me - fun,
but not compelling.

Then, one day he introduced me to his wife, who had come to pick him up
after work.  That was Whitebird.

What was my first impression?  A lady.  Soft gentle face, silky brown
hair, huge brown eyes, nice curvy body.  The softest skin - Whitebird
has skin with the texture of silk.  But I didn't know that then.  What
impressed me that first meeting was the way she carried herself.  A
real lady.

And then she smiled, and I was lost.  Not a smile, really, more of a
playful, wicked grin - subtle but definite, and, somehow, integrated
into that ladylike persona.

I joined the SCA.

All spring and summer I spent as much time as I could with her.  She
was the dance mistress of the local group, and I had two left feet.
Since there were far more women than men who wanted to learn to dance,
*naturally* she would dance with me a lot.

Understand - this was a married woman.  Me?  I was still a teenager (I
went to college young), and definitely clueless.  Her husband was
ex-military, security clearance and all.

Surely she didn't mean anything by it when she stared into my eyes
while we danced, or kissed me at the appropriate time during Mistress
Caecelia's Pavanne.

Summer passed with me drowning in my love's big brown eyes, flinching
when she would touch my bare skin helping me make a dress, giving and
receiving a thousand 'innocous' backrubs.  I would blush and stammer
like a fool around her.  All she had to do was grin, and I would melt.

I, child that I was, actually thought I was keeping all this from her.
Far from admit to her that I was in love, I couldn't even admit to
myself that I loved her.  After all - she couldn't mean any of this -
she was married for christsakes.  And I was a fool.

What changed?  We went to Pennsic War together: Whitebird, her husband,
myself, my current lover (male), and several other friends.  One friend
of hers, in particular, who I knew only as an acquiantance before the
War.  I'd met Dancer before, and knew she was good friends with
Whitebird, but had never spend any in depth time with her.

There we were, all camping together.  I'd see Whitebird wander around
the camp in her chemise, and just ache.  She was so beautiful.  I know
most folk would think her quietly pretty, but in that time, she shaped
how I view women.  To this day, I am attracted to women who remind me
of Whitebird.

Halfway through the War, I was walking back to camp with Dancer.  We'd
gotten to know each other fairly well in several days of enforced
contact, and were becoming friends.  We were walking arm in arm when,
out of the blue, she turn to me and asked 'Are you of Whitebird's
persuasion, or are you just fooling around?'

Revelation.  I stood there in shock.  Dancer looked at my face and said
'Ooops.  I've let the cat out of the bag, haven't I?'

I don't remember how I got back to camp - whether I walked or ran.
Personally, I think I just floated.  The first person I saw when I got
back to camp was Whitebird.  I was so happy I thought I would
spontaneously combust.  I was smiling so hard it hurt.  She saw my
face, grinned that grin, and said 'Pooh.  Dancer told you, didn't she?'

And then she was kissing me.  Her mouth tasted so sweet, and her hair
smelled like... life.  I wanted her so badly I was afraid I'd break her
in two.  But I always was protective of Whitebird, even years later
when I knew her strength - understood her fundamental toughness.

I remember very little of that War other than Whitebird.  Her feel, her
smell, the sun shining through her hair.  Learning that she was
anorgasmic, and holding her while she cried.  Her, smiling up at me
from between my legs, commenting on my unusually subtle smell and
taste.

I will love Whitebird until the day I die.  Probably beyond.

Now?  I see her rarely.  She lives a zillion miles from here.  It hurts
and it gives me great joy to be with her.  She loves me, but never with
such passion as I love her.  I love her so much, I can even respect
that fact.  But at least I know now who and what I am.  That was
Whitebird's gift to me.

 - Akaie