An ER/Roseanne crossover
The copyright owners own the copyrights to the characters portrayed.
The small town of Lanford really couldn’t be considered a bedroom community for Chicago, Kerry thought. It had taken her over an hour to find it, and if she was going to consider a move to the suburbs, it would have to be much closer.
She planned to tell the realtor that, if the woman ever showed up. In the meantime, she waited at the Lanford Lunch Box, a small but clean-looking place that served greasy sandwiches. She didn’t eat much red meat, but she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning either, and the smell of fried onions and the heaping plates around her tipped the scale in favor of a shot of fat and cholesterol. She signalled the waitress, who was chatting with a the cook, a heavyset woman with dark hair.
“Get off your ass and see what she wants, Jackie,” the cook ordered. “Push the special.”
“What can I do ya for, Red?” the waitress asked with a grin, flipping open her pad. She wore an apron over jeans and a flannel shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She had a big grin, and her dark eyes smiled as well.
“What’s the special?” Kerry asked.
“Well, there’s the loose meat sandwich,” Jackie said. “Then there’s the loose meat sandwich. And, for you, we have the loose meat sandwich.”
“What kind of meat?” Kerry ventured.
“Whatever we scrape off the road, from the county highway to your plate, complete with the taste of burnt rubber!” Jackie told her, deadpan.
“I think I’ll have the loose meat sandwich,” Kerry said. “With mustard, no possum.”
“Hey Roseanne,” Jackie called back to the kitchen. “Catch something that’s running around back there, smack it on the head, and put it on a roll!”
“I don’t suppose you have whole wheat?” Kerry asked. She was enjoying this. She didn’t joke easily, and sometimes wished she knew how to banter. She thought, given the chance, she could be funny.
“What do you think this is, Chicago?” Jackie sassed back. “Out here in the heartland, there’s only one kind of bread: white!”
Kerry’s pager went off, and she returned the call to hear a breathless explanation from the realtor: flat tire...miles from a garage...tow truck on the way...Kerry told her not to bother, she wouldn’t be buying a house this far out. She hung up and looked around at the lunchonette, wishing it were a bit closer to home. Jackie was joking with another customer; the cook, Roseanne, shouted to them over her grill. The customers were a mix of men who looked like truckers and mechanics, and...a lot of women. There was at least one couple, holding hands and sharing their french fries. There were a few signed photos on the wall, like the ones she’d seen in many coffee shops and diners; these were of Melissa Etheridge, Ellen DeGeneres, and Rosie O’Donnell.
Jackie noticed Kerry inspecting the pictures.
“We sent some of our sandwiches, packed in dry ice, to every famous lesbian we could think of, and told them to come by if they were ever in town. And they all sent us back autographed pictures. Well, we didn’t send one to kd lang!”
“Is this a lesbian restaurant?” Kerry asked.
“It’s a restaurant for anyone who wants a sandwich,” Jackie clarified. “The only rule is, you don’t bother the other customers. Some folks, you know, if they tried to hold hands, say, at any other restaurant in town, they might get hassled...but no one tries any of that here. My sister back there...” she indicated the kitchen. “Is pretty good with the bat we keep behind the counter. And I used to be a cop. I can still take a man down if I have to. Or a woman,” she said in a totally different tone.
“What a nice place!” Kerry said. She eyed Jackie’s tan arm, the muscles showing and sliding smoothly under her rolled-up sleeves.
“I ain’t gonna walk it out to her, Jackie!” Rosanne called from the kitchen. Kerry wheeled around to return to the counter, and the tip of her crutch slipped on the recently-washed floor. As Kerry felt her bad leg go, Jackie caught her, and delicately set her back on her feet.
“Sorry about that!” she apologized. “Don’t sue us!”
“You’re strong,” Kerry gasped, grateful that she hadn’t ended up on the floor; she hated falling more than anything else. And Jackie’s grip had been sure but not painful. Pleasant and hard across Kerry’s breasts.
“Here, here...your food,” Jackie replied, blushing deeply. “I didn’t meant to uh...I mean, no personal contact intended...uh...I was just trying to keep you from...”
“Falling,” Kerry said. “Thank you, and no, I won’t sue you.” Jackie looked relieved. “Unless I get food poisoning.” Jackie let out a loud guffaw, and a smaller giggle. Kerry suddenly felt like they knew each other.
“So you used to be a police officer?” she asked. Jackie semi-perched on the stool next to Kerry, twirling a little, nervous.
“Yeah, I really liked it,” she said. “But I got hurt. With my bad back, I couldn’t pass the physical anymore, I didn’t feel disabled, but...” she broke off and looked at Kerry, obviously terrified she’d said something wrong.
Kerry concentrated on her sandwich. It was excellent. She let Jackie hang for a minute, not to be mean, but to let her know that she might want to choose her words more carefully.
“This is very good,” she told Jackie. “May I have a napkin?” Jackie silently handed her one, and Kerry wiped her lips. “What did you do after you left the force?”
“Well, uh...” Kerry supplied her first name. “I drove a long haul truck, and I liked that, too.” Butcher and butcher, Kerry thought. She was discovering that she liked tough girls who changed tires and held the door open.
“Then I got pregnant, and married, you know, had to stay home with my kid...” Jackie went on. Kerry glanced quickly at her hand. No wedding ring.
“Then I got divorced,” Jackie went on. “My sister and me, we came into a little money, and she was as sick of working for someone else as I was. We got together with our other friend, Nancy, after she broke up with her husband, and now we have the Lunch Box, and it can be fun. We almost make a living.”
Roseanne came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
“So in case you’re keeping score, or, you know, wondering who to hit on, or who’s going to hit on you: I’m straight, married; Jackie’s divorced, gay and has a kid, and Nancy, when she comes in, is divorced, gay and single. She’s a slut. Oh yeah, and my Mom’s gay, too, but she has a girlfriend. I think one of my daughters is gay, but she hasn’t left her husband yet, and she’s too young for you anyway.”
Kerry couldn’t think of one thing to say. Actually, she could think of about a million things, but they were all fighting for a chance to be the first question out of her mouth. She felt like she was in a situation comedy.
“How’s your coffee?” she finally said.
“It ain’t Starbucks,” Rosanne declared. “You still want a cup?”
Kerry nodded. “And I think I could use some ice cream.”
At the end of the lunch rush, Jackie offered to drive Kerry around Lanford, trying to convince her that the commute to Chicago wasn’t too long. Kerry didn’t believe her, but didn’t want to leave.
Jackie had a pickup truck, and Kerry had some trouble stepping up to get in. Jackie reached over and pulled her in, but Kerry was embarassed at her awkwardness. She always preferred to think of the things that she could do, not the things that were beyond her physical capability. Jackie steadied her, and patted her knee lightly.
“It’s all right. You should see Rosanne when she’s drunk trying to get up that step. I practically have to set up a block and tackle.” Kerry giggled. Roseanne waved at them through the window. She stuck out her tongue at Jackie. She’d whispered something in Jackie’s ear before they left.
“What did she say to you?” Kerry asked.
“She said she didn’t know if you were slumming, or I was overreaching, but she hoped we’d have fun,” Jackie told her, very busy adjusting the mirror.
“Do you think I’m slumming?” Kerry asked. “How do you decide something like that?”
She remembered something Kim, another doctor, had told her when they first started seeing each other; that lesbians were very class-conscious, and didn’t date across those lines. At the time, Kim was Kerry’s only source of information on How Lesbians Behave. Since then, Kerry had dated a firefighter, Sandy, definitely someone of a different class, if you based it on education and income. But Kerry had noticed that doctors, cops, firefighters and EMTs often bonded over their common goal of saving lives. So did common interest override class lines? Sometimes Kerry felt just as clueless almost two years after coming out as she had when she was falling in love with Kim.
“Well, I like to think I have something to offer,” Jackie said, with the nervous smile she’d flashed a few times already. “I own a business, a home, I’m a responsible parent. I don’t know if I have anything in common with you but...”
“But?” Kerry asked.
“But there’s a little heat happening, isn’t there? I mean I’m not wrong about that, am I?,” Kerry smiled in agreement. “Isn’t that something to start with? Does it really matter if you went to the same schools, read the same books, if there aren’t any sparks?”
“Sparks are important,” Kerry admitted. “In the long run, I think you have to have some common ground. But I also think you have to have something that draws you together.”
“What do you do?” Jackie asked, eyes on the road.
“What do you think I do?” Kerry asked. She was so rarely out of her ER milieu, away from her comfort zone, she was genuinely curious about how she appeared to others.
“Well,” said Jackie, pulling into a small, secluded park, and shutting off the motor, “let me have a look at you.” She took Kerry’s hand, and turned it over, stroking the palm.
“You have some calluses, but not like you’re a carpenter or something. Or a musician. But you use your hands.” She looked more closely at Kerry’s hand, turning it over. “You also have short nails, and they aren’t polished. So for some reason, you don’t want or can’t have tips or a fancy manicure.” She moved her lips closer to Kerry’s fingers, until they almost tickled. Kerry rather liked the feeling. “And you smell like disinfectant. Like you wash your hands a lot. And you make enough money to buy a house in Lanford, which isn’t real posh, but we’re getting some yuppies, though not the richest ones...so I’d say you’re not a business executive, or a banker. You’re not loaded, but you’re not hurting. Maybe you work in a lab, maybe you’re a nurse, or some kind of medical technician. They can pull down a pretty good hourly wage.”
“You would have been a good detective,” Kerry told her, with a quick intake of breath as Jackie brushed her lips over the tips of Kerry’s fingers. “I’m a doctor.” Jackie leaned back a little. Kerry put her hand on Jackie’s leg, feeling the muscles under the faded denim. She wondered why Jackie pulled back. She ran her hand up Jackie’s thigh to where it became her crotch.
“What would your doctor friends say if they saw me with you?” Jackie asked.
“What would your truck driver friends say if they saw me with you?” Kerry responded. “I don’t see any of them around now, do you?” She fiddled with the buttons on Jackie’s shirt. and Jackie let out a long sigh. Kerry slid her hand inside the blouse, and pushed Jackie’s sports bra up over her firm breast. Her nipple was large and standing at attention. She looked around the small lot they were parked in. Kerry realized they could be seen from the road. The idea of people driving by catching a glimpse of them doing...what? made her suddenly more excited. No one knew her here.
“This is very high school,” Jackie said, blushing, but not resisting as Kerry circled her nipple.
“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t date in high school,” Kerry told her.
“You’ve never experienced the torture of trying to do it in a car?” Jackie asked. “That’s why I have a truck.” She pulled a blanket from behind the seat, and flung her door open. She was around the truck in a second, and held the door open for Kerry, lifting her lightly to the ground. “Come on...get in the back!” she urged. “There’s no one around, and it’s a beautiful day, and I bet you’ve never made love outside.”
“No, I haven’t,” Kerry realized. It had been beds and showers and living rooms and kitchen tables, but never the great outdoors. Jackie lowered the rear gate and Kerry awkwardly climbed in, noticing the truck’s bed was carpeted. Jackie seemed well-prepared. She threw the blanket over the both of them, and pulled Kerry close.
“You mean to tell me you never got to have some sweaty jock pawing at you and prying your legs apart and humping on you like a dog?” Jackie asked. “You don’t know what you were missing,” she said with a low laugh.
“You make it sound so appetizing,” Kerry murmured as Jackie nuzzled her neck, moving up to plant a firm kiss on Kerry’s slightly parted lips. Soon Jackie’s tongue was in Kerry’s mouth, and her hands were urgently reaching under her blouse. Kerry kissed back just as hard, and let her tongue travel up Jackie’s jaw, and began to nibble on her earlobe. She could tell she’d found a good place, as Jackie began to croon with excitement, her eyes shut, her breath coming in short gasps.Kerry played with the hair on the back of her neck, running both hands up into Jackie’s hair and pressing her close for a deeper kiss.
Jackie’s hand was in Kerry’s pants, feeling for the curly thatch that was growing damp.
“Mmm...you don’t shave...I like that,” she whispered. She worked her own jeans down her legs, and then her boxers. “If I had you at home, I’d have my harness on,” she told Kerry. “I’d watch you go down on my dick, then I’d ride you like the wind.”
“Fortunately, you have a hand,” Kerry reminded her.
“You bet I do...” Jackie said, as she caressed Kerry’s breasts. She pressed her thigh between Kerry’s legs, and she didn’t have to pry them open. Kerry’s panties were already halfway down, and Jackie laid herself on top of Kerry, running her thigh over Kerry’s bush, first lightly, then harder and faster, as Kerry’s clit swelled.
“Kerry, I want to taste you....can I?”
“I’ve been walking around all day...I don’t feel...” Kerry began.
“I like a woman with some taste to her pussy,” Jackie told her. “After a shower, all you taste is the water and soap. “I like it...tangy.” And with that, she went down on Kerry, deftly working her tongue around Kerry’s clit, pushing it in, then stroking it back up, pulling it with her teeth. Kerry was feeling far too much pleasure to be embarassed, and she pulled Jackie in even closer. Jackie took her further and further; she’d never felt such powerful sensations from a tongue, and had never felt such a long, powerful build to climax.
“I’m going to come...” she gasped. Jackie kept up the delicious rhythm. Kerry tried to push herself back, but Jackie wouldn’t let her. She knew she came very wet, and didn’t want to drown Jackie. But in a moment, it was beyond her control, and she felt herself gush with pleasure, in a big wave, then smaller aftershocks.Jackie’s busy tongue lapped it up, and thrust deep inside her vagina, licking and probing the walls in a pleasurable examination. When she lifted her face to Kerry, it was glistening, and her broad grin shone wetly. She crawled up to cuddle with Kerry, who was still pretty much incapable of speech, kissing her cheeks and her eyes and her lips.
“You know,” she told Kerry, “when I was with men, I always had a hard time coming, and one of the only ways I could was when the guy went down on me. And they never wanted to do it, or do it long enough. When I finally came out, I determined to be the best pussy-eater in Lanford, and work my way up to Chicago...maybe the whole Midwest.”
“You’re the best I’ve had,” said Kerry, who didn’t add that she’d not had that many. Still, she could tell Jackie was very, very good.
“I know you’re not going to move out here,” Jackie said. “But I didn’t want to let you get away without at least trying to get to know you a little...”
“I’m glad you tried,” Kerry told her. “Sometimes I regret not following through on my own impulses. I liked you, too, but I didn’t think of doing about it. At least not at first. And now I don’t feel like forgetting about it...I could come here again. It’s not that far away.”
“Or I could ride you back to Chicago,”Jackie offered. Kerry thought about all the meanings of that particular statement. “You know, I still do some runs in the truck on the weekends when my son is with his father,” Jackie told her. “I like someone to ride along. Roseanne can’t get away very often. But if you feel like riding shotgun, I could show you around...”
“The interstate?” Kerry teased.
“The part of a rig where the trucker sleeps...or whatever,” Jackie told her.
“I’ve never done anything like that,” Kerry observed. Jackie watched her carefully, looking, Kerry was sure, for some sign of rejection or disdain. “I think...doing things I’ve never done has made me a happier person. At least some of the time.”
“Then you should definitely pick up a load of onions in Vidalia, Georgia with me next month,” Jackie told her. “They’re the sweet kind.”
“Like you,” Kerry said, and Jackie blushed.