Kyoko had asked Noelle to meet her at the New Museum in Nolita.

The official story was to see Elizabeth Peyton’s Live Forever exhibit. But the real reason was to show off the woman she was dating. Elise seemed to be too good to be true. Kyoko wanted an objective opinion, and she knew Noelle would give it to her.

She and Elise waited for Kyoko on the third floor. Her friend was late as usual, but Elise didn’t seem to mind. She was a friend of a friend of the artist, and already seen the exhibit twice. In fact, she looked a bit like an artist herself in her black DKNYC trenchcoat, thigh-high boots, and beret. Kyoko was hoping that this outing would be short and sweet, since Elise’s clothes were begging to be torn off her body.

Noelle arrived out of breath and blustering apologies. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I took the subway.”

“No problem,” Kyoko said. She pointed at her girlfriend. “Noelle, I’d like you to meet Elise.”

Elise took Noelle by surprise by stepping forward and giving her a quick hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Noelle shot Kyoko a stern glance over Elise’s shoulder and lied, “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

Kyoko had kept most of the information about her new belle to herself, wanting to savor it. She also wanted her friend to form an opinion based on her own thoughts and feelings.

“How about we take a look at some of the work and then grab some lunch at Café Gitane afterwards?” Elise suggested.

Bingo! First point. Kyoko knew that Noelle loved the café.

Noelle nodded enthusiastically. “Perfect! I’m starved.”

They begin to saunter around the exhibit, stopping at each piece to stare, reflect, and offer comments.

Elise stopped to stare moonily at a watercolor likeness of Georgia O’Keefe. “Beautiful,” she said. “Profoundly simple in sepia.”

But Kyoko was transfixed by Zoe’s Kurt, an oil painting of Kurt Cobain. “Ah, Kurt,” she said. “I was such a fan.”

Elise stepped up beside Noelle and nodded in mutual appreciation. “He was brilliant. This painting always reminds me of my ex-husband. Kind of looked like that.”

“Sorry?” Kyoko said. “Husband?”

“Ex,” Elise corrected. “Ex-husband. I was married ten years ago.”

Kyoko had suddenly lost all interest in the artwork.

“You never told me about all this,” Kyoko said.

Noelle, sensing that things were about to get uncomfortable, took a step closer toward the artwork, trying to make herself very small.

“I didn’t know who I was then. He was a good guy - a great guy, actually. But we drifted apart. And I realized I was really attracted to women.”

“Whoa. Confessions at the gallery,” Noelle mumbled.

Kyoko stood with mouth hung open. “I’m having a hard time believing you would never mention this.”

“It was a long time ago,” Elise said. “I was a different person. If you can believe it, I was a straight liberal. And now - huzzah! A gay Republican.”

By this point, Noelle’s interest had been piqued and she could no longer remain silent. “You have led one interesting life.”

Elise’s laugh was dry. She looked pensively at the artwork. “I guess you could say that. But I can’t complain. It’s been rich.”

“Maybe you could give me some dating advice about my man,” Noelle said, ignoring the annoyed looks that Kyoko was shooting her. “The other day I found out that my boyfriend - I guess he’s my boyfriend, at least - had joined a scooter club. The same scooter club that his ex belongs to.”

“How did you find all of this out?” Elise asked.

Noelle could feel herself blushing. “I - I followed him, actually. And that’s when I spotted his ex-girlfriend.”

“Well, were they making out or something?” Elise asked.

“They weren’t even talking. She seemed as surprised to see him there as I was.”

Elise waved her hand dismissively. “Then there’s your answer. He’s probably done nothing wrong.”

Noelle wasn’t ready to accept this rationale. “But why wouldn’t he tell me about it? He goes off and buy a scooter, then joins a club that his ex-girlfriend just happens to be a part of, and I’m supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence?”

“Could be,” Elise said, matter-of-factly. “Have you asked him?”

It was Noelle’s turn to turn her attention to the artwork.

“You haven’t talked to him, have you?” Elise asked.

Noelle shook her head.

“Just talk to him. Chances are, there’s nothing to it,” Elise said, adding, “Guys aren’t so complicated.”

Kyoko’s silent treatment was over. “Oh, sorry. I suppose I’m too complicated?”

Elise smiled and kissed Kyoko with her full lips. “And I love every complication. You are the finest art in this whole place.”

“Looks like you’ve got a keeper, Kyoko,” Noelle said.

And Kyoko, with all of her complications, fell just a little harder.

Noelle returned home from a long day at work feeling frazzled and rather ugly. She scrambled up the stairs toward her apartment, intent on taking a shower. But as she reached the doorknob, she heard a rumbling behind her.
      She turned to see a shiny red Vespa rolling up to the curb across the street. Candy apple red and retro fabulous, it was the exact color and model she’d coveted for years. As she toyed with the idea of heading over to drill for more information, the driver pried off his helmet.
      Lance!
      Noelle ducked and turned to dash inside the apartment before he could see her in her bedraggled state. As she closed the door behind her, her anxiety morphed into curiosity – and the tiniest twinge of anger. She had just spent the previous night at his apartment, and he’d made no mention of this upcoming purchase. And while they still hadn’t officially made themselves exclusive, wasn’t this the sort of thing you might share as pillow talk?
      She shook off the ire, knowing that a warm shower would make her feel – and look – better. She would talk to him about his new purchase after she felt primped and polished.
      But no sooner had she showered and dressed, than she heard the rumbling again. She glanced out her window to see Lance back atop the Vespa, revving the engine. She dashed down the stairs to grab him before he could scoot off but when she reached the door, he was already tootling down the street.
      Noelle hailed a taxi and dove into the backseat.
      “Follow that scooter!” she said.
      The chase didn’t prove to be too difficult, as Lance’s scooter seemed to top out at 35 miles per hour. The only thing tricky about the ride was keeping low enough in the seat to avoid detection.
      The cabbie, sour from having to drive so slowly, brightened considerably when Lance turned off the West Side Highway and parked among countless other scooters before the Meatpacking District’s Brass Monkey.
      Although the cabbie was cheerful, it was Noelle’s turn to sour. For it seemed that Lance had not only bought a new scooter, but the purchase was part of a larger plan. And Noelle, the culture vulture who had once ridden on the back of a Parisian boy’s Vespa for a week, was arriving at this clandestine event in – gasp – a taxi!
      By the time Noelle had paid the taxi driver and pulled herself together, Lance had parked his scoot, said some hellos to the brave souls shivering outside, and slipped indoors.
      Noelle was grateful for the darkness as she slithered out of the cab and into the Brass Monkey’s bar area. The wood-paneled room was dark and crowded, with little more than votive candles illuminating the faces of its beaming customers. In the flicker of light, she saw that the woman to her left, a twenty-something donning a messenger bag and two teeny ponytails, was wearing a hoodie that read New York Scooter Club.
      Noelle felt like an old curmudgeon.
      A cotton-topped man tapped her right shoulder. “Hey there,” he said. “This your first time?”
      Noelle nodded. As she looked around, she realized that people of all ages and backgrounds filled the bar.
      “Well, if you have a scooter, you’re in the club,” he said, beaming. “What kind do you have?”
      “Oh – a Vespa,” Noelle stammered.
      The hipster to her right turned to join in the conversation. “Sweet,” she said. “I’ve got a vintage two-stroke. What’s yours?”
      Noelle was having flashbacks of high school science, when nothing had made sense. Except they were now in a bar, and she was sober.
      “Oh, it’s just a Vespa,” Noelle managed.
      A thirty-something had sauntered over to join their conversation and help make Noelle’s life even more miserable. “Yes, a Vespa, but what year? And how many CCs?
      “It’s a 2008. 150 CCs,” came a voice behind her.
      Lance appeared, clutching a beer to his chest. “And dragon red,” he added.
      “Nice work,” the hipster said, with an approving nod. “You’re really going to love it.”
      “That beer looks good,” the thirty-something said. “How about a round on me?”
      “No thanks,” Noelle said, watching as the threesome sauntered away toward the bar.
      “What are you doing here?” Lance asked. “I thought you were working late tonight?”
      “Slow day,” Noelle said. “And I think you should be the one explaining.”
      Lance took a swig of his beer. “I bought a Vespa today. Thought I’d save some money. And tonight I wanted to check out this scooter club.”
      “I see that,” Noelle said. “But why wouldn’t you tell me?”
      “Lance?” came a woman’s voice, soft and sexy.
      Noelle and Lance turned to find Becky standing behind them. She wore a long-sleeved black shirt with the New York Scooter Club logo on the front.
      “And that is apparently why you wouldn’t tell me,” Noelle said. Without waiting for an explanation, she turned and stormed out the door.
     

     Kyoko was confused and conflicted after a recent outing with her four best friends. When she’d confessed that she’d dumped a woman for being a conservative, Allison had accused her of being close-minded.
      Her friend had a point. Wasn’t a liberal supposed to be open-minded?
      So she’d decided to give Elise a second chance. And when the woman suggested Juliette for dinner, Kyoko gave herself a mental pat on the back. She clearly had been too hasty – the woman had good taste.
      Her date sat just beneath the chalkboard drink menu and the two illuminated signs that read “Charcuterie” and “Boucherie.” The votive candle flickered light across the woman’s full lips and raisin-black eyes. Kyoko resisted the urge to reach across the table and touch her. She was smoking hot. If only they could avoid any conversation about politics.
      Elise had ordered Lillet Fizzes for both of them, and insisted on taking long sips from her glass, teasing Kyoko with her eyes. Even the slow, deliberate way she ate her Steak aux Poivres was somehow sexy, even though Kyoko was a vegetarian.
      “Sure you don’t want a bite?” Elise asked her. “I know you don’t eat meat, but it’s grass-fed.”
      “Thanks, but I’m fine with my pasta,” Kyoko said. “Although I’m impressed that you care about animals.”
      “So,” Elise said, resting her fork on her plate. “I thought for sure I wasn’t going to see you again.”
      “You know what? Maybe I will try a bite,” Kyoko said. Even if she had to tuck the meat in her napkin, she was willing to do almost anything to derail this sudden change of topic.
      The woman laughed softly. “Good try. Come on, be honest. When I told you I was a conservative on our last date, you nearly bolted in the middle of dinner!”
      Although Kyoko loved a good argument at work, she didn’t like to feel cornered on a date. And a second date, no less!
      “Okay, never mind,” Elise said. She sawed off another bite of her steak, and added, with fork in midair, “I just hated to think you wouldn’t date me because I’m a Republican.”
      She popped the piece of steak into her mouth and resumed the slow, deliberate chewing. Kyoko relaxed again, mesmerized by the woman’s mouth. She shook her head to snap herself out of the trance.
      She had to know. “Would you ever not date someone because they were a Democrat?” she asked.
      “Absolutely not,” the woman replied. She took another sip of her beverage. “Especially someone as beautiful as you.”
      Well. Once again, the woman had shown she had exquisite taste.
      But as much as Kyoko wanted to dismiss politics and just fall into the glow of the date, the lawyer in her was demanding answers. “But you must have a deal breaker,” Kyoko said. “What’s your tipping point? I mean, clearly I’m a Democrat and you’re still willing to date me. But what is the one belief I could have that would make you give up?”
      “Honestly, I don’t date along party lines. For me, the deal breaker is if someone is a horrible person.”
      Kyoko nodded. A thoughtful – and smart – return.
      “How about you?” Elise asked her.
      Kyoko shrugged.
      “Come on,” Elise urged, with a smile. “If you asked that question, I’m guessing you have a tipping point. What is it?”
      “Okay,” Kyoko said. “I respect that you’re a Republican. I mean, just because you’re a lesbian doesn’t mean you don’t get choices. But the tipping point would be if you were to tell me what I can do with my body.”
      “Fair enough,” Elise said. “But I wouldn’t. Because even within party lines, you can have differing opinions. And that is something I feel strongly about.”
      Kyoko was still left to wonder which of the Republican ideals Elise strongly agreed with. But for the moment, her stance on a woman’s choice was heartening. And, she reminded herself, as a liberal she should strive to be open-minded. She popped some pasta into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully with her eyes closed.
      “But,” Elise started.
      Kyoko’s eyes popped back open to find Elise leaning across the table, her shirt drooped low and revealing some impressive cleavage.
      “You look gorgeous tonight. So I’m hoping later on you’ll let me tell you what I’d like to do to your body.”
      “Well now,” Kyoko said. “I think we’re ready for some bipartisan action.”