Fenton Maurer(Writer's note: this story is an rewrite of an earlier story that was the result of a commune writing exercise led by Howard.)
WOMAN'S RAIN
Both Fumiko-san and I were nineteen years old when, together, we had our first experience of love between girls. It was storming in our country village on the day we met, and I suppose one could say it was the rain that caused us to become girlfriends and lovers.
One can faintly see Mount Fuji from my home on clear days, but even though warm rain pelted my head, neck and shoulders, that morning it stood nobly in view. Also, I wondered why the sun was on my face at the same time the ditches were swallowing rivulets away all around me. Shielding my eyes with both hands, I discovered the rain was blowing from a tower of purple clouds some distance away. I had never experienced rain and sunshine together like this and remember hoping these natural phenomena were an omen of something wonderful to come.
Fumiko was smiling at me through the sheets of slanting rain from her side of the muddy road, her hair glistening like the wet fur of a slick, black kitten. 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 my dress high, gingerly crossing to her, avoiding puddles, and saw her charcoal-black eyes gazing down at my exposed thighs through the watery curtain. I picked my route carefully to her driveway, and there she gripped my wet arm and pulled me quickly into her garage, out of the rain. Inside were many cardboard boxes, so many that their Toyota would not fit into the garage. They were recently moved from Tokyo, and until they unpacked their things, 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 through a dark passageway. My face close behind her wriggling panties, the seams of which were visible through the thin, wet garment, I followed her under and around 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 drawing near me out of the obscurity. I had been kissed before, but only by boys, older boys, never by a girl my own age.
She timidly offered to pretend 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 the white cotton-covered triangle between them. As I touched her there she lay very still, her eyes wide. I don't know how long we did this, but we did nothing more than touch. How was I to know what else to do? A grey streak of moisture appeared on her white panties, and I remember thinking I would love to taste this woman's wetness, the fragrant rain in her panties, but I dared not. Isn't it strange that at that early age we already thrilled at the powerful attraction within us to same-sex love? I remember a thought popping up in my hazy, sex-drenched mind that, in addition to men, the other half of humanity, feminine and soft and curiously unpredictable, could now take me for their lover. 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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