A story describing the first romantic moment between Julie Lefebvre and Sarah McCairn.
Thumbnail art is by  runestone

Julie et Sarah

May 20, 1994

Smelling weakness and seizing the moment, Sarah McCairn made her move. The caribou defense doe for Les Alerions moved in with speed as the forward for Riverdale, a relatively slight vixen in a blue sweater, tried to tame a bouncing puck and clear her zone. Before the girl could gain control, Sarah had already slammed into her with a punishing hip check that sent her into the air and sprawling onto the ice. A combination of cheers and groans went up from the small audience, but there was no one cheering louder than the grey she-wolf Julie Lefebvre, Sarah's best friend.

Julie had a perfect view to watch the play unfold. Sarah took control of the puck and skated into the corner as her teammates entered the zone. She outmuscled two checking opponents and fired a centering pass to her right-winger, who then tapped it to their center, who went high on the sprawling Riverdale goalie to score and tie the game 3-3 with only a couple of minutes to go in regulation.

The faithful for Les Alerions de College Francois-de-Laval clapped and cheered. "Allez Sarah! Allez Alerions!" yelled Julie, while a sour-looking grey cat (who must have come in with the girls from Riverdale) behind her gave her a look of disgust. The third period ended without any more excitement and the teams returned to their benches to prepare for overtime.

Julie banged on the glass in appreciation of Sarah and their team and Sarah noticed and smiled at her. By Julie's count, Sarah had assisted on all three of her team's goals and was +2 for the night. She had really started to enjoy the stats since she had been watching her friend play. Perhaps she could volunteer to be their score-keeper; it could be a nice way to contribute to the team. Then again, this was their senior year and there weren't too many games left.
Overtime proceeded without much happening; the play was very cautious, with neither team wanting to lose the single point they'd get for the draw. With about a minute left, things took a bad turn. A Riverdale girl almost got in behind their defense, but Josie St-Louis got her stick caught in the girl's skate, and was called for a tripping penalty.

Julie could see Sarah on the bench, looking unhappy with the fact that a win was now unlikely. The doe immediately skated onto the ice to kill the penalty and the rest of the game. Their penalty kill was solid and kept their opponents out of the slot very effectively. With the last dozen seconds ticking down, Riverdale managed to cycle the puck to the blue line, where their right D, a huge she-bear who had already scored a goal in the game, wound up for a slap shot, as the spectators held their breath. Sensing the moment, Sarah skated out to cut off the angle of the shot. The arena resounded with the sound of the slapper, and the subsequent gasps, but the puck bounced harmlessly off Sarah's shins, even as she fell to the ice with the impact. From her knees, Sarah tried to backhand the puck out of the zone, but the same she-bear held the line and wound up again. With incredible determination, Sarah managed to get to her skates and leaped into the path of the shot, this time taking it off the side of her leg, falling to the ice and this time staying there as the last seconds ticked off and the tie was preserved.

Julie gasped. That looked like it really hurt! She could see Sarah holding her leg, gritting her flat herbivorous teeth. Finally, she was helped off the ice by two teammates, and heard the cheers from her bench and the audience. Julie got up and made her way to the locker room to meet her.

When she found Sarah, she was hunched over on a bench still in full uniform, still feeling the effects of that blocked shot. The coach, a middle-aged ram, was saying, "Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at that leg?"

"Nay, it's just a wee sting," said Sarah, in English. French wasn't her first language, and she often reverted to English when she wanted to express certain ideas, though she was pure Scot and often used dialectical words that most couldn't understand, Julie included. The coach shrugged and went on about his business. "Julie!" she said, when she saw the she-wolf.

"You were amazing!" said Julie. "You saved the game."

"Can you give me a ride home?" asked the caribou. "My parents are out of town."

"Of course! Are you going to get changed first?"

"Nay, I'll do that at home. Just help me get my skates off."

Puzzled, Julie obliged and unlaced Sarah's skates and put them in her gym bag, along with her complicated (and undoubtedly very expensive) helmet that could fold and unfold around her impressive antlers. Her hockey socks were built with a zipper at the end, so she could pull them up and over her feet and walk out of there bare-hoofed. She limped all the way to the exit and then they made their way to Julie's '83 Chevy.

"Il pleut des cordes!*" exclaimed Julie. The rain was coming down heavily, even though it had been a perfectly fine evening when they had entered the arena.

They got into the car and Julie joined the procession out of the parking lot. "You were sensational tonight!" Julie said and Sarah nodded at the compliment, but was still wincing in pain. It was only a 10 minute drive to Sarah's home, which was a lovely two-story house with a large terraced front lawn. It was a fairly long walk from the driveway to the front door and Sarah needed Julie to support her the whole way up, which seemed to take so much longer than it actually did, with the rain still pouring down.

By the time they lurched through the front door and out of the wet, Sarah could contain herself no more. "By St. Andrew's beard! That bloody hurts, ye ken?"

Julie couldn't help but smile at her friend's gruff Scottish manners, even as she felt bad about the pain the doe was obviously in. "Well, you're home now, at least," the wolf noted.

They got Sarah up the stairs and to her bedroom. Her room was filled with trophies and a rack of sticks saved from special games filled out her wall. Sarah collapsed onto the bed and let our another groan. "Now, may I ask ye kindly to help get all this off me?" said Sarah, referring to her equipment.

"Of course," said Julie. She brought Sarah's hockey bag up to collect the equipment in, then slid off her hockey pants, then her long colorful socks, then her knee and shin pads. "Mon Dieu, it's like undressing a giant, really complicated Barbie doll," Julie said with a nervous laugh.

Sarah snickered and handed Julie her hockey sweater, which she hung on the wall to dry. Julie then realized that her own pants were soaked from the rain and becoming very uncomfortable. "Can I take these off to let them dry?"

"Ay," said Sarah, taking off her shoulder pads and laying them behind her on the bed. Julie went out of the room and hung the wet pants over a rail.

Returning, she said to Sarah, "Why didn't you change out of all this in the locker room?"
Sarah said, "It's fine. I wouldn't want to make anyone there uncomfortable." It took a moment for Julie to register what she meant. Oh, she thought. Sarah was one of those girls who... liked other girls. A "lesbian."

"So patriotic," said Sarah, giving Julie an amused look. Julie giggled. She was referring to her blue Fleur-de-Lys panties, of which she owned many. "Now, can you fetch an ice pack from the freezer?"

Julie did so and kneeled down on the bed next to her friend. She applied the ice to the caribou's left knee and Sarah left out a gasp. "There, there my baby," said Julie.

Sarah gave her a look and a smirk. If anyone else in that position had called Sarah a baby, they might well have gotten a hoof in the head. But her friend had special privileges.

Julie held the ice dutifully in place, looking Sarah over. The caribou was so physically impressive, with rock-hard abs and finely toned arms and legs. It was a physique that could have been chiselled from marble, a testament to the hard work she clearly put into her sport. Michelangelo indeed could have carved out your features, Julie thought, remembering a Bob Dylan lyric. Sarah's beautiful mane of auburn hair flowed between her antlers. Her Jill shorts showed off her firm rump and cute little tail and her Nike sports bra provided an air of mystery about what her chest might look like without it. Julie shook her head. She had sometimes had strange thoughts like that about Sarah, but seeing her mostly undressed was bringing them out in full force.

She had to start talking. "Uh, Sarah, you seem popular with your teammates. Do you really think they wouldn't want you around them when you're getting dressed?

Sarah winced, either at the pain in her leg or something else. "Yes, they like me well enough. They like me because I'm really good. And I can guarantee you, I'm not the only lesbian on the team, just the only one who admits it. But... it's enough to cause some issues. Nothing's been said to me, but you hear a whisper here, see a strange look there. Girls can be so subtly nasty. It's a lot easier than being a gay guy on a team, no doubt, but it still feels queer sometimes. Pardon the double meaning."

"Oh," said Julie. The sad look on Sarah's face pained her... She wanted to give her friend all the comfort she could. She lean in and kissed Sarah on the lips. The caribou was taken by surprise. Their eyes met for a moment intensely. "I'm sorry.." said Julie.

"Nay, it's fine," said Sarah with a nervous smile. After a moment she added, "I thought you liked guys."

"I like... both... I think?" Julie stammered, not ever sure herself.

"It's okay," said Sarah. She grasped Julie's arms. "I can help you find out." They leaned together and started kissing again, an incredible sensation. They used their tongues in the traditional French way, exploring every inch of each other's mouths. Julie let Sarah's tongue fill her maw; it was a tongue designed for taking lichen off the tundra rocks, and as such was a powerful appendage.

A million confusing and contradictory thoughts raced through her mind. Here she was, kissing a girl, and liking it! Everything about it felt right... except everything she had been taught. She couldn't imagine ever telling her parents about this. And what would her church friends say? This was not what the Bible said to do. Yet Sarah's presence was so powerful, it almost had her questioning the infallibility of the Pope.

"Sarah," she said, pulling back slightly. "I think my shirt might need to dry a bit too." She pulled her Nordiques shirt up over her head, revealing her Fleur-de-Lys bra that matched her entire ensemble.

Sarah couldn't help but laugh. "What, are you like always prepared to sleep with Bouchard?**"

"Ew!" Julie screamed, laughing.

"You're beautiful, lass," Sarah said, in all seriousness. "I can't say I haven't dreamed that this could happen, though I had no idea that you'd want to."

Then they laid down and cuddled and caressed and kissed some more. Looking into Sarah's soft green eyes, Julie saw such joy and such vulnerability, in contrast to the scary intensity that she displayed on the ice. As their eyes and lips met, Julie felt quite the opposite of what she had been taught about such trysts among women. She felt like the Holy Spirit was welling up within her, ready to be released into her world in a way she had never experienced before. It felt so spiritual and right; how could it be wrong?

When they were done, they laid quietly there for a while. At length, Sarah broke the silence. "No one has to know about us. I mean, my parents would be totally fine with it, but I ken yours are a wee bit more... on the religious side? But we're grown adult women; we can do what we like... and we're two best friends; no one would think it's queer if we spend time alone together."

"Oh Sarah. How is that ever going to work?" She couldn't see it, but she certainly couldn't see ever telling her family about this either.

"You'll have to... figure that out for your own self, love." said Sarah. She stood up and stretched. "My leg's much better now, thank you kindly. I suppose I ought to get a shower now." She stepped out of the door toward the bathroom, then paused. "Would you care to join me?"

*A French idiom, literally: "It's raining ropes."
**Lucien Bouchard, then leader of the federal Bloc Quebecois and later Premier of Quebec (1996-2001). While Julie would have mostly agreed with his politics, she would not have found the idea of sleeping with him appealing, not being into old men.