Grace Kelly’s eyes went wide. “Ooh! Is Julia meeting your parents for the first time?”

  I nearly said yes, until I remembered that she’d already met my parents at a jungle-themed restaurant in the Mall of America. I hadn’t exactly introduced Julia, however. I hadn’t told my parents that she was much more than a roommate. I’d felt guilty about my cowardice ever since, which made our upcoming trip to St. Cloud even more important. I was nervous—anyone in my position would be. But I was actually looking forward to the trip and the opportunity to make things right. It was time that I Came Out to my parents, and I couldn’t have been more proud to reintroduce Julia to them as my significant other.

  But Grace Kelly didn’t need all of those details.

  “Uh huh,” I settled for.

  Julia rejoined our group not long after. She pressed a cold pint of beer into my hands. “For the birthday girl,” she murmured.

  I looked at the beer as if expecting something to jump out of it. “Thanks, babe. Nothing for you?” I asked, noticing her empty right hand.

  “No,” she dismissed. “I want to stay sharp. But you have fun,” she encouraged. “It’s your special day, after all.”

  Her right hand disappeared into the pocket of her suit jacket. Almost immediately, the hidden device in my new birthday underwear began to purr. The vibrations were small, but the contraption fit snug against my clit.

  Julia smiled innocently. “How are you doing? Need anything else?”

  Her hand remained in her pocket, where I assumed she kept the underwear’s remote control. The vibrations noticeably intensified with her question.

  “Nope,” I gulped. “I’m great.”

  My eyes searched the smiling faces of my friends. Had they noticed any change? We were gathered in a close circle, but as long as I kept my cool, there was no reason for them to suspect anything was happening inside of my pants.

  Julia leaned a little closer. A particularly pleased smile curled at the edges of her ruby red mouth. “Should I open up the throttle, dear?”

  She purposefully enunciated each word as if my brain might be too rattled to understand the reference.

  I smiled at her between grit teeth. Oh, it was going to be like that, huh? “Do your worst.”

  Julia’s hand returned to her pocket. The vibrations against my sex seemed to double in speed. It was like someone was playing a drum solo on my clit.

  “Jesus!” I tried to hide my exclamation behind an exaggerated cough.

  “You okay, Cass?” Angie questioned.

  I smiled weakly in my friend’s direction when she gave me a strange look. “Just peachy,” I wheezed. “Beer went down the wrong tube.” I struck my closed fist against my chest for effect.

  An intense heat rushed from my center down to my extremities when the vibrations continued without reprieve. I clutched my pint glass so hard, I worried it might shatter in my hand. I could only hope that the festive music streaming over the PA system was loud enough to drown out the obvious buzzing sound coming from my pants.

  I somehow managed to set my beer on a nearby wooden barrel that doubled as a cocktail table. I no longer trusted my hands to hold the heavy glass, and there was no way I was going to be able to casually sip at my drink without choking on its contents. I focused on my breathing and tried to pay attention to the conversations happening around me.

  Rich and Grace were spending the holiday in the Twin Cities. It was her first Christmas outside of Embarrass, which she felt guilty about, but her two sisters and their respective families—I’d nearly forgotten she was a triplet—would more than compensate for her absence. Both Brent and Angie were scheduled to work the next day. Neither had significant others or family close by, so they tended to volunteer to work the Christmas holiday. Plus, they would make time and a half for the holiday hours. Adan was … I tried to focus on my friend’s face. What was Adan saying? His lips moved, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  I shut my eyes when another intense wave washed over me. Someone was speaking, but I could no longer distinguish individual voices. My knees buckled, and I braced myself against the wooden barrel. I was getting lit up like a Christmas tree. I couldn’t orgasm in a crowded beer bar—could I?

  “Seriously, Cass,” I heard Angie’s concern. “You’re looking a little rough.”

  I shut my eyes and grimaced. “Just … a little heartburn,” I lied.

  “I’ll go get you some water,” she offered.

  “Okay, thanks,” I choked out.

  My lower body was on fire, but no water would be able to extinguish that kind of burn. There was no place I could go, no way to adjust myself to provide some relief. I couldn’t tell if the damp heat between my thighs was from sweat or from arousal, but it was probably a mixture of both. Was my birthday underwear waterproof, or rather cumproof? I was leaking like a busted faucet; I genuinely worried the accumulating liquids might cause the whole mechanism to short out.

  I cast my eyes back to my friends. Brent was on his phone and Grace and Rich were preoccupied with their own conversation. Adan and Isabella had their heads bents together. No one was looking at me.

  “J-Julia!” I couldn’t help the volume of my voice. “Did you s-see the m-mistletoe over there?”

  My girlfriend looked far too casual, and for a brief moment I worried she’d forgotten the safe word. “No? I must have missed it.”

  The buzzing between my legs seemed to intensify like the damn underwear was revving its engine. My abdomen tensed. No, no, no, no. I clutched the edge of the beer barrel table like it was a life raft on the ocean. My knuckles turned white from the death grip. The rough, unfinished edges dug into my palms.

  My vision blurred, and I offered up a one-worded prayer. “Mistletoe!”

  The vibrations immediately stopped and Julia swooped beside me to wrap her good arm around my midsection. To an outsider, it probably looked like an affectionate gesture rather than a necessity. Her sturdy arm might have been the only reason I remained on my feet, however.

  “Jesus,” I quietly hissed. “What happened to the safe word?”

  She nuzzled her nose into my hair. “I knew my girl could take just a little bit more. Are we even now?”

  “Even?” I echoed the word.

  “Orgasms, dear,” Julia clarified. “Are we finally caught up? I hate being in debt to anyone.”

  “That’s what this was about?”

  Julia shrugged but didn’t let go of me. “I may have been thinking about doing something like this for a while.”

  “Is this one of those aforementioned fantasies?”

  The arm around my middle tightened. “Having my partner give up total control to me? Having the power to unleash your orgasm with the push of a button?” Julia’s tone dropped to a delicious burn. “Watching you come undone in a public space, in a room full of your closest friends, with none of them being the wiser to what’s happening below your waist? Seeing you squirm and sweat and try to mask your pleasure when all you want to do is lose control and scream?” She batted her long eyelashes. “Is that to what you’re referring, dear?”

  I swallowed thickly, miraculously turned on all over again. If she kept this up, I’d never make it to my thirtieth birthday. “Yeah. That’d be it.”

  Julia smiled serenely before helping herself to a sip of my beer. “Maybe.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Julia stood before her open closet door. “Why did you let me procrastinate on packing?”

  Christmas morning had been a quiet affair with Julia spending the better part of the day at the assisted living facility where she’d recently re-homed her mom. I had been invited to tag along, but I’d politely declined the offer. Julia didn’t pressure me to come with her, which suggested that this was something she’d wanted to do on her own.

  I watched my panicked girlfriend from the bed. “We’ll only be gone a few days,” I reminded her. “Just throw some things in a bag and we can go.”

  Julia turned on her heel. “Throw some things in a bag?” she repeated in an incredulous tone. “Don’t you want your parents to like me?”

  “Fancy clothes will have absolutely no impact on them,” I promised. “In fact, they might like you even better all dressed down.”

  Julia’s shoulders slumped forward. “I think I liked it better when they thought we were roommates.”

  I hopped up from the bed. “Babe, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I’m the one Coming Out, remember?”

  “I know, which is why I want to look my best for you.”

  “When’s the last time someone introduced you to their parents as their girlfriend?” I asked.

  She bit her lower lip. “Never. You?”

  “Same,” I admitted.

  “God, we’re quite the pair,” Julia ruefully chuckled.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I tried to appease.

  I felt Julia’s pointed stare. “When are you going to do it? When are you going to tell them?”

  “I … I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  Julia’s voice was censuring: “Cassidy.”

  I held up my hands in front of me like a protective shield. “I don’t want to ambush them, you know? I can’t just spring it on them the moment they open the door.”

  Julia folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why not,” she protested. “‘Mom, Dad, you remember my girlfriend, Julia.’”

  “They’re going to hear friend who is a girl.”

  “Partner, then,” she amended.

  “They’ll think we’ve gone into business together,” I countered.

  I heard her displeased noise. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I could always introduce you as my fiancée,” I grinned. “They’d definitely hear that.”

  “And give your poor mother a heart attack?” Julia huffed. “I’d rather not.”

  The energy in the room had palpably shifted. Rather than being nervous about the trip to St. Cloud, Julia now sounded annoyed. She noisily rattled through the hangers in her closet in search of the perfect outfit.

  I watched her from my position near the end of the bed. “I’m going to do it this weekend,” I vowed in earnest. “But let me do it my way.”

  St. Cloud was little more than an hour north and west of the Twin Cities, but holiday traffic and early winter sunsets had made the relatively reasonable drive a little longer than usual. The lack of sunlight didn’t matter though; I could have found my parents’ house while blindfolded.

  Julia turned into the short driveway in front of my parents’ house. My parents didn’t go all out with Christmas decorations, but they weren’t Scrooges either. A single, sensible strand of multi-colored lights outlined the dimensions of the modest ranch-style house. An illuminated plastic Santa Claus peered down from his perch on the slanted roof. I’d never been self-conscious about my roots or how I’d grown up, but I was wildly aware that several copies of my parents’ home could fit into the footprint of Julia’s mansion in Embarrass.

  I hopped out of the passenger seat and headed to the trunk of the Mercedes. Julia didn’t put up a fight when I hefted both of our bags out of the trunk and proceeded to walk up the concrete walkway that led to my parents’ front door. Snow covered the yard but the driveway and sidewalk leading to the front door had recently been cleared. Rock salt covered the walkway, crunching beneath my winter boots.

  “That’s very chivalrous of you,” I heard Julia’s voice behind me, “roommate.”

  I froze in place with our bags in either hand. “Your … your wrist,” I excused. “It’s still not one hundred percent.”

  Julia caught up to me. She stroked her fingers along my jawline as she passed me by. “There’s only one way to really test out that theory,” she mused. “It’s too bad roommates don’t do those kinds of things to each other.”

  I swallowed hard. The evening air was chilled, but Julia’s suggestion had me overheating. “You’re going to torture me all weekend.”

  It wasn’t a question. I knew too well how she might torment me under my parents’ roof—and not in an enjoyable way, either.

  Julia smiled mildly. “Just helping you keep up the façade, darling.”

  “I’m going to do it!” I proclaimed.

  My voice came out a little too loud. The front door swung open at that moment and my mom stood in the doorway.

  “Going to do what, sweetie?” my mom asked.

  “Oh, uh, nothing. Just a work thing,” I lied. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Luckily, my mom was too excited by our arrival to press me for more details.

  She threw her arms around me and enveloped me in an overly exuberant hug. With my hands already occupied with luggage, I had no choice but to stand and endure my mom’s affection.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Oh, it’s so good to see you!” my mom enthused. She took her time with every vowel. Perhaps I’d been living in the cities for too long; her accent was hard on my ears.

  Julia stood back a few feet from the awkward reunion, but she didn’t go unnoticed for long. My mom abruptly ended our hug and rushed toward Julia like a defensive back on his way to the quarterback. My girlfriend soon found herself on the receiving end of a Nancy Miller bear hug. I watched Julia’s features morph from surprise to discomfort to acceptance in the span of a few seconds. Her entire body seemed to relax into the prolonged embrace.

  I cleared my throat after becoming inexplicably choked up by the show of emotion. My mom was a big hugger—I was used to that. She got excited over small, seemingly trivial things. But would the open show of affection continue, I wondered, when I finally revealed to my mom who Julia was to me? Would she still so freely give out those hugs after I Came Out?

  I still had no idea how I was going to tell my parents. I’d thought about nothing else during the relatively quiet drive from St. Paul to my hometown. I’d tried to picture myself in various rooms of my parents’ house and what opportunities they might afford. Drying the dishes from dinner while my mom washed? Shoveling the driveway with my dad? Watching late night television? Nothing felt right. Nothing made sense. I hoped that the universe would present me with the right moment, but I knew that was too much to expect. It was going to be awkward. It was going to be uncomfortable regardless of what I might try to plan or visualize. No amount of manifesting would make this any easier on anybody.

  “I’m so happy you could make the trip, too, Julia!” My mom finally released her from the crushing hug. “I’ve been cooking all day, so I hope you brought your appetite.”

  “I hope I’m not putting you out, Mrs. Miller,” Julia said.

  My mom waved her hands. “It’s absolutely no trouble. The more the merrier, especially around the holidays. And remember,” she corrected, “it’s Nancy, not Mrs. Miller. You’re not one of my old piano students.”

  “Well in that case, Nancy,” Julia graciously returned, “thank you for opening your home.”

  “Can we go inside?” I stamped my feet, dislodging loose snow from the bottom of my boots. “I’m built for sand these days, not snow.”

  “Come in, come in!” my mom said, ushering us inside.

  Heat pouring from the pellet stove warmed the front of my parents’ house. I removed my leather jacket and waited for Julia to slide out of her wool peacoat.

  “Bruce!” my mom called out the moment we stepped inside. “The girls are here!”

  I couldn’t immediately see my dad—he hadn’t been waiting at the front door like my mom had—but I imagined he was probably in his La-Z-Boy easy chair in front of the TV in the living room.

  “Bruce!” my mom called again. She left Julia and me in the front foyer in search of my dad.

  Julia bent down to take off her boots. “Am I meant to leave these here?”

  Her question barely registered with me. I hadn’t been nervous before, but my heart had taken residency in my throat the moment we stepped inside.

  “Cassidy—do we leave our boots here?”

  I blinked several times. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

  Julia squeezed my right bicep and looked me over. Her dark eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

  I swallowed. The gravity of what I intended to do had hit me like an IED. “I’m-I’m a little nervous,” I admitted.

  “If it happens, it happens,” she allowed. “If you’re worried it will spoil the visit, it can wait.”

  I shook my head with vigor. “No. It’s going to happen. Right now.”

  I cleared my throat, fully prepared to shout my sexuality from the entryway.

  Julia laid a hand on my forearm. “Why don’t we have dinner first,” she gently recommended. “Your mother has been cooking all day, and no one should have to Out themselves on an empty stomach.”

  We left our bags in the front foyer and washed up in the half-bathroom off the kitchen before sitting down at the dining room table. My mom was busy setting various serving dishes and casserole containers out on the table.

  “Bruce!” she yelled out. The volume of her voice had me flinching. “Dinner’s on the table! Dig in girls,” she directed to us. “Don’t let it get cold.”

  I took in the various ceramic containers and serving dishes spread out across the table. My mom had even put the leaf in the table to make it longer. “Dang, Mom. I’m a good eater, but not that good.”

  “I didn’t know what you might like, so I made a little of everything,” she explained.

  There was no pattern or obvious theme to the meal. It wasn’t quite a Thanksgiving or Christmas spread. The main protein was fried chicken. Everything else could be classified as a casserole or salad, although in the upper Midwest, we were pretty liberal with our use of the word ‘salad.’

  “Everything looks wonderful, Nancy.” Julia had always been better at the graciousness thing than me. I should have been more appreciative of the obvious effort my mom had put into the meal.

  I’d nearly finished filling up my plate with fragrant, bubbling hot food by the time my dad made his way to the dining room. My mom didn’t say anything about his tardiness, but I was offended on her behalf. He silently spooned hot dish onto his plate and claimed a coveted chicken leg for himself. He didn’t say hello to either Julia or myself. My dad’s lack of decorum made me aware of my own tendencies to be less than refined at the dining table. I made a mental note to be more mindful of table manners for Julia in the future. Sometimes it was useful to have models you didn’t want to emulate as much as role models whom you admired.