Sudorific: A Painful Return (Lesbian)

Present Day: 04/05/2013 1945 hours

"We are now landing in the beautiful Washington, D.C." The flight attendant announces over the intercom. As I'm looking out the window, my heart beats a mile a minute. I remember the last time I was looking over D.C., I was leaving my fiancée behind to answer the call of duty.

It was a day I will never forget.

Upon landing, I grab my bag and proceed to get off the plane. My hands sweat the closer I get to the terminal. At baggage claim, I hear a familiar voice from behind. "Welcome home, SSGT. Michaels."

I turn around as my heart drops. Standing in front of me with long locs flowing down past her shoulders, Terry grins at me with open arms. I forget how Terry's gorgeous smile light up my world as we hug one another tightly. The feel of her warmth brings tears to my eyes. "Wow, look at you!" I distance myself from her, "You look as beautiful as I remember!" I grab her hand then spin her around.

"Awww, stop it. Look at you! Wearing your uniform, looking like a fighting machine." Terry puts a hand in my hair then rubs my short afro with a temper fade, "You grew out your hair again. I was getting used to your haircut." Returning from Norway, I express growing my hair was a necessity because of the cold weather. In response, Terry softly smiles and says gently, "Let's get out of here,"

As we approach Terry's car, "Damn girl, being a doctor got you made!"

"Well...you know..." She shrugs with a smirk - meanwhile, her trunk slowly opens automatically. After I load the trunk, I offer to treat us to dinner so we can catch up. "Hmmm, how about we go back to my place and you cook for me?" Terry side-eyes me with mischief.

"I return from an almost three-year tour and you want me to do manual labor already? Did you forget who I am?"

"No, that's why I want you to cook," She tries to persuade while biting her bottom lip with a flirtatious smile. I stare at Terry with seriousness, then fall into her trap.

We make a deal to cook together.

As we drive through downtown D.C., I look out the window, indulging the feel of the city. Terry parks behind a tall glass building "I'd help you with your bags, but they seem ultra-heavy. You know my skinny arms won't be able to hold those, so I'm going to let you handle that."

"So, you're just going to give me a whole life story to why you can't help me with my bags? Ok then, remember I'm cooking - with your weak ass," I grab my bags as we laugh. The doorman greets us as we approach the building then opens the door with a bright smile. Terry greets the doorman back.

Damn, Terry has made it.

Once we enter in her condominium, I notice familiar artwork from our old apartment as we stand in her foyer. "Welcome to my safe haven. Feel free to put your bags in this room," She points to the den next to front door. Before putting down my bag, I look to my left and notice the long hallway. Assuming her bedroom is located there, I try not to entertain the thought of being there by clearing my throat.

Walking into the den, I see the 72-inch television we had in our previous place now in the room. Nostalgia sits within in, but I choose not to sink into it. Afterward, we migrate to the living room. On one side of the room, there are two ceiling height windows, showing the heart of the city. On the other side of the condo, Terry has an open kitchen with an island that looks as if you can feed a party of six along with a dining room.

I am in awe as I walk on her marble floor. "Abi?" Terry asks if I like it in Yoruba. She spins around with arms wide open.

I turn around to stop looking out her tall windows. "Hell yeah, I'm feeling this. Terry, thank you for allowing me to crash at your place for the night,"