She came back into the bathroom, then, dressed in a pair of jeans (these blue instead of the black ones she'd been wearing earlier) and a sweatshirt with a famous logo on the front. "Freakin' Independent Lesbian Association," she said, pointing to it, and grinned. I laughed, and she raked a hand across her head, flipping droplets of water off and making it stand on end. She laid down a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and pointed to them, vaguely, as she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Those should fit you. Someone left them here awhile back, and she was a little bigger than you. The pants have drawstrings, so you oughtta be alright." I wondered who the "she" in question was, but decided to leave it alone. I didn't expect her to tell me - she didn't seem one to share information like that. I murmured a thanks, and dressed as I watched her in the mirror, combing her hair. She wore an expression of distance, looking at herself in the mirror but not really seeing anything but what was going on in her head. I wondered if she was dreaming about the "she" in question.

I ran my fingers through my hair and smiled at her reflection as she "came to" and looked at me. Again, the cocky smile danced across her face, and she walked from the bathroom without a word. I assumed that I was to follow her, and I did, after hanging up the towel.

I found her in the kitchen, once again putting the teapot on to boil, fixing two new mugs with the tea balls. I asked the question I had asked earlier - "So, what is that?" and she looked at me, then realized I was talking about the mixture of dried leaves and not the 'hardware' in her hand.

"Oh!" she said, with a laugh. "It's chamomile and peppermint and a touch of lemon grass. My own personal blend. It's a test batch - if it works out, and people like it enough, then we'll make it the new one for the season." I must have looked at her as though she was speaking in tongues, because she did a double take and stopped dead in her tracks. "What?" she asked, and then a look of knowing came over her face. "You don't know who I am, do you?" she asked, and I shook my head. She laughed then. "I thought every lesbian in a 50-mile radius knew who I was," she said. "I'm Chris Tyler, owner of Tyler Medicinals, the people who make the Herbal teas. Does that ring a bell with you?"

I nodded - it sure did! Chris Tyler?? I always had pictured "Chris Tyler" as a man. I'd read lots of articles about the Tyler farm, about the medicinals and herbal remedies grown here, about the standards of quality and the potency achieved here. I was shocked - I was in the kitchen with an herbal genius! And she was making me tea. And she was giving me the eye. And…oh god… she'd done things to me tonight that….oh god. I'd been taken by a woman who had enough money to buy me, lock, stock, and barrel, if she wished. I was shocked.

She sat down at the table and smiled, passing over a mug of sweet-smelling tea. "Now don't go getting all freaked out on me. I can see you know who I am now, and I don't want you to look at me any differently. I'm still the shadow-butch who fucked you senseless in the bathroom at Rene's, alright? I'm just also a woman who likes to grow plants and make people feel better. Think of me that way, please?" I nodded, and looked again at her. From the butch who'd taken me the way she had… to the soft and gentle woman who was in the shower with me…and now the herbal tea magnate who still lived in this small town, in this old farmhouse. I was intrigued by her more than I dared to let on.

"So tell me, Olivia. What's going on in your head right now? You're a million miles from here, and I can see the wheels turning," she said, and I started to have my thoughts drug from my head that way, dumped on the table like dinner. I grinned sheepishly and sipped at my tea.

"Yes, I do have a lot going on in my head," I said. "But I'm not sure that I'm ready for you to hear all of it. Because I don't know much about you, and I don't know if they're things I want to share."

She nodded at that, and stood up to walk back towards the kitchen counter. "Well, Olivia, let me tell you some stuff about Chris Tyler, and we'll go from there. Full name is Christine Eleanor Tyler. Born February, 1961. This is my real hair color, my real eye color, and I am 5'6" tall. I've never been married, I don't have any kids, I prefer cats - have two - and I love women, Harleys, and making tea. Your turn," she said, with a serious look on her face.

I looked at her for a moment, making eye contact. As we did, I began to speak. "Olivia Milhouse, born June, 1970. My real hair is dark brown, the same as my eyes, I dye it because I hate my natural color. I'm 5'8", also don't have kids and prefer cats - none right now, though - and I love women, Harleys, and wonder who the hell left these clothes here, and is she going to come walking in soon and kick my fat ass?"

Chris laughed, an interesting laugh that went from a small smile to a larger one, then gradually grew into a deep, rich, overflowing of bubbling amusement. She shook her head as she leaned back against the counter, then slowly sobered up. "Ahhhh, no. The she that left those clothes won't be coming in to kick your ass, or anything else. Not to creep you out or anything, but the woman who owned those is dead now. Don't worry," she said, with a smile, "she wasn't wearing them when she died or anything. All of her clothes are still here, in boxes in the top of my closet. That was just some that I keep out - I do that with some of the stuff that I wear now and then.

"But enough about her," she said, and I could hear a non-existent door slamming, closing the conversation. "I don't want to talk about her, or I'll be sitting here crying in my tea, and you will see a side of me that no one will ever see. So let's drop it, shall we?" I was curious, but I couldn't let on that I was interested in knowing anything else. It was obviously something that she didn't want to discuss.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I'd really like to have a tour of the place, if you wouldn't mind. See, I am a practitioner of medicinal tea arts, too. I don't grow them or anything, but I use all of your teas, and have been absolutely dying for the next Tyler Tours day. I finally managed to save enough money for the conference and everything."

"You mean the one where you get to meet Chris Tyler and discuss growing herbs?" she said. I nodded, realizing how ridiculous it was, now. Saving for 2 years to get the money to attend a conference with 24 other people for an hour, and possibly have the chance to chat with her about chamomile and comfrey…and in one night I'd not only chatted with her, I'd been naked with her, kissing, touching, tasting….

I shook my head slightly before the memories of what had happened earlier took me over, and looked at her. She was smiling, nodding, knowing that I'd not been thinking about the tour at all. But she went on as though she hadn't noticed, and grabbed her keys. She went to the front door, and slipped on some sandals that were there. She tossed another pair at me, and amazingly, they fit. I smiled, and we walked out the door.

"This is the drying barn," she said, as we entered a small wooden shack out on the corner of the property. We'd toured the fields, walking by moonlight as we chatted about different teas and different medical problems, laughing about skeptics we'd met, worrying about what new laws were going to be passed. She'd taken my hand gently somewhere around the peppermint, and I didn't protest. It seemed natural to do that, even though we'd met the way we had.

I looked up at the rafters of the small building, and could see huge bunches of drying herbs. I recognized peppermint and chamomile, echinacea and lavender. The scent was absolutely heavenly, something natural and earthy, with sweet floral undertones. I felt like I could stay here forever. There was a loft, as well, with boxes and tables, a ladder made of rough-hewn wood leading up to it. It was this ladder that she went for, and started to climb. Halfway up, she turned to me, and motioned for me to follow her.

I climbed up the ladder, looking up at her jeans-clad ass, thinking how good it looked, and how much I wanted to touch her, but knowing that right now she was in "instructor and owner" mode and doing so wouldn't be acceptable. She stepped from the ladder to the loft floor, and turned to help me off the ladder. I looked around at the loft, and was amazed to see how beautiful it was there, with work benches for tying herbs and cleaning plants, a table to sit at for detail work, and two lounge chairs for relaxing. Obviously I wasn't the only one who found the scents and sights of this barn pleasing.

Chris went to the workbench, where there were boxes of dried herbs. "Come here," she said, and I joined her, kneeling on the floor. She began to open boxes, one at a time, inhaling the aroma of the dried plants, then offering the open box for me to smell. I did, the scents of peppermint and lavender and lemongrass filling my nose. I smelled and smelled, until I was dizzy with the scents. "Is there one you especially like?" she asked me, with a sideways smile that told me something was going on in her head.

"Well," I said, hesitantly, "I think the lavender smells really nice." She smiled, and nodded, with a murmured, "Me, too," then took the box and scattered the contents - nothing but about 4 pounds of dried flowers and leaves - all over the floor! I was shocked, and just sat there as she laughed.

"Olivia, let me tell you something," she said, standing. I stood, too, and she came closer to me, wrapping her arms around my waist like a lover. "I give classes four times a year, on those 'Tyler Tour' days. You know that, obviously. But what you don't know is that I keep my secrets, still. I never tell anyone about certain things I've learned, or things that I know. And NO ONE is allowed in the drying barn unless they work for me and have clearance. So you've already surpassed all of my former students." At this, she grinned broadly. "BUT…there is one particular secret that I've learned, and I've never shared it with anyone - not even the people who work for me. And I'm going to show it to you, Olivia. YOU." And she kissed me then, deeply, tenderly. I was caught up in it suddenly, like a net, tangled and wonderful all at the same time.

"Come with me," she whispered, and reached behind her to grab a thin blanket that was laying on one of the lounge chairs. She laid the blanket down over the top of the lavender that was on the floor, and gently, gracefully, taking me in her arms again, she kissed me, caressed me, and eased me down until I was laying on the blanket with her. "Close your eyes," she whispered, and I did. "Now breathe, Olivia…breathe deeply," she whispered, and as I inhaled, deeply as asked, she began to undress me, pulling the t-shirt up, lifting me gently so that she could remove it. As I continued to breathe, my eyes still closed, I could smell the lavender seeping through the blanket, mixed with the background scents of the other herbs, and I was lost. It was like finding another place, another time, where nothing else mattered but the heady perfumes and the comfort of her smooth hands across my skin. I felt light headed from the deep breathing - or was it the scents? - and slowed my inhalations down, relaxing back against the blanket. I let myself drift, but was aware of her fingers, gliding over my skin.

She kissed me, then, and I could feel all of the cells in my body come to life and start to tingle as her lips drifted from mine, down along my jawline, across my neck. But I realized, struggling up out of my dreamy state, that I wasn't going to let her have me like this again, not without a chance to consciously take her, instead. I opened my eyes and looked at her, pulling away from her slightly.

"Please," I whispered, "let me?" She hesitated, then slowly nodded, lying down as I raised myself over her, a ballet of grace and passion. I kissed her now, and caressed her skin, removing her t-shirt, sliding my hands, fingers, lips, tongue, over her skin. She sighed, and I knew that she was enjoying this, her eyes closed, her breathing deep. I found her nipple, hard, and took it into my mouth, my tongue dancing over it, making her back arch as she felt the pleasure. I kissed my way to the other one, sucking, nibbling at it, hearing her slight sighs and moans of approval.

I worked my way down, removing her jeans, and settled down between her legs, laying my head on her thigh and watching her pubic hair ruffle slightly as I breathed on her, breathing in the combination of her arousal and the lavender, and thinking there was no sweeter scent in the world. She spread her legs for my probing fingertips, and I settled in to taste her, kiss her, love her.

I found her clit with my tongue, feeling for it, sucking at it, licking across it and I could hear a louder moan from her. She was very wet, obviously turned on. I slid a finger inside her, and she gasped as I took her clit in my mouth and began to suck lightly at it while I flickered the end of my tongue across it. Her back arched, and her hips began to rock, grinding her pelvis against my face as she enjoyed. Her hands went to her nipples, pulling, grasping at them as she came closer and closer to the orgasm that I knew was there. I continued what I was doing, not letting up, and soon I could hear her whispering a litany of, "Yes..yes..yes…yes…yes…", each successive word getting louder and louder until she was nearly screaming it. Then, suddenly, she got silent for a moment, her body froze, and then she was there, her orgasm swarming through her body like a tremor, shaking her from head to toe as her pussy gushed fluid against my chin and her nipples became like rocks. Her hands grasped the blanket and twisted it as she made fists, crying out with an animal sound I'd heard when she started the Harley earlier.

Slowly, I stopped moving my tongue and finger, and slowly her body relaxed again, settling back against the blanket. She gasped for breath, and I slowly rose from her, reaching for another blanket that was nearby. I lay down next to her once again, resting my head on her chest as she wrapped an arm around me, and we pulled the blanket over us. I relaxed, the sound of her heartbeat loud in my ear, as her breathing began to return to normal.

"You know," she finally said, "you're the first one to do that in a very long time." I looked at her with puzzlement on my face, but she didn't look at me. She kept her eyes to the rafters, looking beyond them, to someplace far away. "The clothes you were wearing," she said, "belonged to the woman that I was married to. She was killed in a car accident about 7 months after we married. I've been alone ever since - and that was 10 years ago. I've never let anyone touch me in all that time. I go to the bar, and do what I did with you, or find someone there willing to take me out to their car and let me have my way with them. But always before, I was long gone before they recovered their senses, so to speak. But you…" and she finally did look at me then, and I could see tears standing in her shining blue eyes. "You found me. And now you've done something I swore I'd never let anyone ever do."

"Touch you that way?" I asked, and she smiled. "Something like that," she replied. "Not touch me…THAT way, so much as touch my heart." I smiled and lay my head down on her chest, once again hearing her heart beat. I closed my eyes and fell asleep there, naked against her, the scent of lavender around us.