Yoru at the summit of Mount Utopia
(Writer's note: this story is an update of an earlier story that was the result of a commune writing exercise, led by Howard.)
Fumiko, Rainbow and Rain
Both Fumiko-san and I were eighteen years old when, together, we had our first experience of love between girls. On the day we met, it was storming in the country village where we lived, and I suppose one could say it was the rain that caused us to become girlfriends and lovers.
One can see Mount Fuji from the village on clear days, and that day it stood majestically in view even though warm rain pelted my head, neck and shoulders. I wondered why the sun was still on my face at the same time the ditches were swallowing the rivulets away. Shielding my eyes with both hands, I discovered that the rain was blowing from a tower of purple clouds farther away towards the mountain. I had never experienced rain and sunshine together like this and remember hoping it was an omen of something wonderful to come.
Fumiko was smiling at me through the sheets of slanting rain from the other side of the muddy road, her wet hair glistening like a slick, black kitten's. Her thin arms stuck out of her soaked yukata as she waved the wave of "come!" to me, hand and forearm motioning down, Asian style. I pulled up my dress gingerly as I crossed to her, avoiding puddles, and saw her charcoal-black eyes gazing down at my exposed legs through the watery curtain. I picked my route carefully to her driveway, and there she grabbed my arm and pulled me into her garage, out of the rain. There were many cardboard boxes, so many that their automobile would not fit into the garage. They were recently moved from Tokyo, and until they unpacked, her garage was a wonderful labyrinth with paths and alleys and hideaways.
We were wet through but soon fell to laughing at how waif-like we looked. She was strong and held me tightly as she collapsed giggling to the cool concrete floor, dragging me with her. After laying on top of me a brief, embarrassing moment, she crawled off and I followed her under to a hiding place with only a faint streak of light from an opening in the packing boxes above. There she turned around in a tight spot in the semi-dark and kissed me! I remember startling at her eyes and lips coming closer to my face out of the obscurity. I had been kissed before, but only by boys, older boys, never by a girl my own age.
We timidly pretended I had captured her, and she helped me tie her feet loosely propped above her on a boxtop. I could see under her yukata the soft skin of her trembling thighs and her white cotton panties. As I touched her there she lay very still, her eyes wide. I don't know how long we did this, but I remember we did nothing more than touch. How was I to know what else to do? Isn't it strange that at that early age we already thrilled at the powerful attraction within us to same sex love? I remember suddenly realizing that, in addition to men, the other half of humanity, feminine and soft and curiously unpredictable, was now available to me as lovers. Next time, I would taste willingly a woman's rain.When later we went outside, the skies had brightened, and there before us a rainbow rose into the blue sky, growing visible, then fading, then waxing colorful again, shimmering on the sunny side of Fujisan. It was my first rainbow love affair.
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