The solid oak door slammed shut in my face. From behind the two inches of wood, I could hear the familiar sound of a bolt locking into place. The outside light was turned off. On the other side of the front door, my father was yet again yelling at my mother, who was weeping as they fled not only from the foyer, but also from the hearing range of my ears.

Setting down the cardboard box, which contained only the few clothing items and personal possessions that I could carry, I turned out to face the street. The darkness of night that I normally craved now sent a chill of fear down my spine. I shuddered deeply, thinking about the event that had just transpired.

What had caused me to reveal my sexuality to my parents; I couldn't begin to tell you. Perhaps it was to feel a close emotional connection with them. Or perhaps it was to prevent them from becoming enraged with me if they found out when I was twenty-nine instead of nineteen. Obviously, neither of my thoughts had prepared me for the true outcome of their rage and disappointment in me.

Yes, the street felt much colder now, much less welcoming. Nonetheless, I bent down to retrieve the small pieces of my former life that were now held within a small box. I didn't realize how frigid the night air was, or else I would have grabbed a jacket from the closet before being chased out. I was going to have to find some place to stay for the night. Hopefully I could reason with my parents in the morning, but I knew the odds of that occurring were far from nil.

My feet hit the concrete of the sidewalk, and I only paused momentarily to glance in on a world that only moments ago, I was still apart of. I tore my eyes away from the house, and began to walk with no destination in mind.

I was alone; unknown, and in front of a place that could no longer be considered home.

Doors were forever being slammed in my face.

I tossed the key onto the closest piece of furniture and fumbled along the wall until my hand found the light switch. I threw it, but instantly regretted it.

The light flickered to life, revealing peeling wallpaper that must have lost its colour more than fifteen years ago. Along one wall, wires were exposed, as if the maintenance man had forgotten about a rewiring task that long ago needed to be completed. I was afraid to even enter the bathroom.

I set down my few belongings on a chair that could probably not even hold my weight, and set myself down on the corner of the bed. The springs were more than worn, and the mattress sank heavily under my weight. I couldn't complain, however. I had a roof over my head, and a semi-functioning furnace next to the window. And with this being the best that I could afford, I had no right to complain.

I found it ironic that I should contemplate the events of my life that have led me to this hotel room. Both the room and myself have been neglected and, over the years, have lost touch with those who once protected us. Now, both are on our own, fighting a losing battle against the current.

Any other set of parents would have realized my sexual interest lying in another direction than the greater majority. However, I was cursed with the parents who never should be allowed to become parents. Their interests lay solely in their professions and in each other. Had they even paid the slightest attention to my social life, they would have realized the glances I gave to girls that came for dinner were more than just glances given through friendship. They should have realized that when they entered my room and saw me sharing a bed with another girl that it wasn't to keep one of us from spending the night on the hard wooden floor. But no, they never cared. They only cared when I did something 'disgraceful' to my appearance to cause them shame when their clients wanted to meet with the family. They were ashamed, even before I confessed to them that I was a lesbian.

I wondered if it was I who put myself in this hotel. I didn't try to win my parents love. I never did. I never learned how. But, how could I if they were never showing any sort of affection to me whatsoever? No, it wasn't I who landed myself here. It was my mother and father who drove me here.

I glanced around the room once again, with a feeling of deep bitterness. I didn't need my family. I never had a family; they never provided the things that I had needed most. Tomorrow, I would start anew. It wouldn't be easy, but thus far, my life had been far from easy. There would be nothing new, and yet, everything would seem new.

I pulled back the covers on the bed, exposing cotton sheets stained with only God-knows what. "I think I'll sleep in the chair, tonight."

"I'll have a gin and tonic," I said, sliding into a barstool at what appeared to be a very low-class bar. The atmosphere was thick with cigarette smoke and alcohol, but after searching for a place to live for the past eight hours, all I wanted to do was sit down and have a drink.

The bartender approached me sceptically. "Can I see some ID, little lady?"

I sighed heavily, retrieved my wallet from my back left pocket and handed it to him casually. I had paid good money to have the fake ID card made, and not once had I been asked to leave a bar.

Carefully, he studied it, comparing the picture and information to the petite girl that sat before him. When he was satisfied, he handed it back to me. "Your hair's short. Looks good," he commented.

"Thanks," I muttered, watching him mix the drink in front of me. He wiped his hands on a soiled bar rag and set the tall glass in front of me. I nodded my appreciation, and he left me to tend to half-sober customers.

I caught myself chasing an ice cube with my straw as I began to think. In every day that passed, I believed that there was always something good that had happened. If I had to find something decent in the events that had occurred today, I would have to say that it was the fact that no one had broken into my horrid hotel room during the night.

Everyone deserved a break in his or her life, a time when everything was going to be better. Wasn't I due for some of that time? Being thrown out of the house, having no place to go, and no job certainly wasn't my idea of a better life than I had before.

I was so caught up in my own self-pitying mood that I hadn't even noticed a figure standing next to me, clearing his throat. I turned my head to the right to see a man, no more than twenty-five years of age. Strands of his naturally black hair hung forward, half-covering his bright green eyes. Had I been a straight woman, I would have considered him quite attractive. "Yes?"

"Hi there. My name's Jake. Would you care to dance?"

It sounded like a question to me, and yet his response of seizing my arm and pulling me to my feet made it seem more like a demand. The only music I heard came from over the televised hockey game that had captured the attention of the majority of those in the bar. The man before me was obviously drunk. "No, thank you," I said, and proceeded to sit back down again.

"Oh, come now. You look like you could use some lightening up. But, if you can't dance, that's fine too." Once again, he pulled me to my feet. "We could just skip that and head over to my place. I could make you feel a helluva lot better than you do now." Jake boasted.

I snatched my arm away, which wasn't too difficult in his drunken state. "No, thank you," I repeated and sat down yet again. What part of a two-letter word did he find difficult to comprehend? I decided to make myself perfectly clear. "I'm not interested in men, so please, leave me alone!"

One question I always had was; what do the opposite men find so attractive about lesbians? They weren't welcomed into our realm of sexual acts, and yet they all find the idea to be an utter turn-on. This Jake was no exception. "Well now, isn't that a sweet little package! We could find you a sweet little girl and have ourselves a good old time!"

I was becoming frightened now, beginning to think that I had gotten myself into too much once again. Half of the people in the bar were listening in on the argument being had, and yet not one of them would come up here to aid me. "Just leave me alone," I tried to speak in my most directive voice, and yet it came out trembling.

"Knock it off, Jake. She's with me."

Both the overly drunken Jake and myself turned to see a tall woman standing behind him. She was thin and not overly built, but the tone of her voice and the way she held her hands firmly on her hips seemed to radiate a sense of power. Her icy blue eyes were shooting daggers.

"Oh, is she now, Tifa?" Jake slurred, scratching the back of his head uneasily. Was he afraid of her? "Well then, I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds alone..." He took one step back in defeat, and then another. What was going on here? Before I knew it, the bothersome drunk retreated to a table in the dusty corner of the bar.

The woman then proceeded to take the seat next to mine. She brushed back from her face a few lengthy strands of copper hair, and when they caught the light, they seemed to be set ablaze. I'd never seen a colour quite like it. Only her penetrating eyes brought me back to the room.

"T-thank you," I stuttered, feeling embarrassed.

"It's no problem, Lovie," she said, and immediately I could detect a faint Australian accent that made my heart flutter. "He can't ever seem to find a straight woman who wants him, so he goes for the lesbians."

I inhaled sharply. Straight woman? Lesbian? Had she been listening in on the entire conversation, then? The heat rose up through my neck and into my cheeks, making them a deep rose in colour.

It was as if she was reading my thoughts, but I was sure that wasn't it. I must have given it away some other way. "Why are you embarrassed, Lovie? Is it because I overheard you tell a desperate man that you're not on the straight and narrow?" she smiled, her white teeth gleaming.

I couldn't think that it could happen, but my blush intensified and my cheeks felt as if they were on fire. I had told quite a few people about my sexuality in the recent months. I had never thought that it should be something kept a secret, except from my parents. Although, what went on behind my bedroom door was of no business to anyone, anyway. And yet, there was something mysterious and intriguing about this woman before me that made me nervous and jittery.

"The name's Tiffany, but everyone calls me Tifa," she said, as if trying to make me feel more comfortable in her presence.

I swallowed and tried to regain the composure that was normally mine. "I'm Jace," I said, extending my hand to shake hers.

Instead, she took my small hand inside of hers and squeezed it lovingly. "This doesn't look like your kind of place, Jace. Why don't we find somewhere more suitable and private?" I knew what she had in mind.

Let me explain something. In the past two years, I have had a few relationships with women. We had started off as friends, and slowly built our relationship up to the climatic moments, which we always shared equally with each other. And when we decided to end a relationship, we always remained friends. I had never been in a purely sexual relationship before. I never wanted to be. I wanted the magic that could be felt just from gazing into one another's eyes, or drowning in a pool of warmth that they created. In a way, it had always made me feel better about myself and the secret that I was keeping from my parents.

Before I realized what had happened, I was thrown onto a bed in Tifa's apartment, her weight holding me in place. It isn't to say that I didn't know what we were doing, but I had never begun a relationship through sex first. So many things had gone wrong in the past two days, I felt overcome with self-loathing. I wanted it to disappear. I wanted to feel that something was going right for a change. Feeling Tifa's lips pressing hungrily against mine made that feeling hold true.

Never had I been with a woman who felt so rushed to complete a task before. But perhaps it was just her excitement that was building, as mine was. She tugged at my blouse, trying to shake the buttons loose from the holes. Stuffing my arms through the sleeves, she yanked it from my body and tossed it behind her. I returned the gesture, seizing her shirt and lifting it over her head. I was nervous; never had I experienced such a sexual frenzy. It's not to say that I wasn't enjoying myself, though.

I found one hand slipping through her hair to find its place at the back of Tifa's neck, pulling her head down to meet mine as I kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her luscious lips... I drowned in her scent, that sweet scent of musk from her skin, and berries from her flowing copper hair. My senses felt heightened; my fingers tingled as I touched her skin, which was growing as hot as my own.

It seemed like only moments later, but she had taken everything off of my body, except for the black lace underwear that clung to my hips. As odd as this quick experience was, I found it strangely thrilling and exhilarating. I wrapped my leg around hers and rolled over, pinning her beneath my body. I wrapped my arms around her smooth body and fumbled for the tiny clasp of her red silk bra. Considering that I hadn't the most experience in the world, the clasp gave in to me fairly easily, and I peeled the material from her body, exposing her petite breasts.

Tifa's hands found my hips to try and guide our bodies together. I stopped her, entwining my fingers with hers, and raising her hands up and over her head to be held in place on the pillow. My move of assertiveness must have excited her, for she started writhing under my weight. I couldn't tell you exactly why, but that look of innocence that she threw to my eyes caused me to melt. I wanted her, and she knew it.

I couldn't recall what exactly happened next... Limbs were flailing about as we played our hands of domination, trying to outdo the other. I remember moans of my name coming from her lips, and heavy caresses that only drove us closer to the breaking point. At mutual points, our fingers slipped between each other's legs, feeling the dampness of our sex. The feeling of her fingers prodding their way inside my body pushed me towards the point of no return. I felt an orgasm rising from within me, and I could tell from Tifa's panting and moans that she, too, was close. We came together; two lovers reaching the same heights at exactly the same moment. Tifa's was more obvious; she cried out my name and kneaded her lengthy fingers deep into the muscle of my back. Wave after wave of a pent-up energy surged through my body, starting at the tips of my toes with a tingle, and ending with my head in an explosion that made me lose my breath. My teeth found the closest piece of her flesh; her shoulder, and I sank into it, catching the faintest taste of blood.

Her breath was hot against my neck, driving a warm shudder convulsing through my body. Our breasts heaved together with our laboured breaths. I grazed my lips over her eyelids before rolling onto my back. A part of me was in utter shock. Jace, what did you just do! I thought. I had just given a stranger a piece of myself that I had always figured should be treasured and shared by two people in love. I didn't know anything about this woman, except her first name! And yet, I knew so much more. It's amazing what you can find out about a person through the act of lovemaking. I knew that Tifa needed somebody to hold. She needed somebody to develop a loving bond with, and I needed the same thing. I could sense at that moment that we truly belonged together.

I rolled onto my right side and opened my mouth to whisper into her ear. She sat up in the satin bed with her back to me and stretched. I couldn't help but lie there bedazzled and admire the contoured lines of her frame and think of her milky skin beneath my fingers. I knew that I wanted her, but not in the physical sense alone. I wanted her emotions; the domination and savageness, as well as the sweetness that I knew lay somewhere beneath the surface.

As I reached out to run my fingers along her shoulder, she stood. Why was she slipping into her clothes so swiftly? I pushed back the red satin sheet and climbed to my knees. "Tifa?"

She buttoned up her jeans, and pulled a sweatshirt out of a dresser drawer. Without even putting on her bra, she slid the sweatshirt over her head, and pulled her copper hair from the neck. "Make the bed when you're done lying around, all right?"

I shook my head, disbelieving the agitated edge in her voice. "Wh-what?"

"I'm going to pick up my girlfriend. I'll be about fifteen minutes. Make sure you're gone by the time we get back." Tifa picked up a bag that was sitting on an old rocking chair and opened the apartment door. "And don't forget any of your clothes," she added as she left.

I knelt there, naked and alone in a strange satin bed in a strange apartment, on the verge of tears. Yet another door was slammed in my face.