She began a casual walk across the lot toward the administration building that housed the English department. She never locked her car, always believing that if someone wanted what was inside badly enough, they would get in anyway and do damage in the process. If they wanted the car itself enough to steal it, well then, they probably needed it more than she did.
Dusty’s friend Rebecca had told her at last year’s Christmas party that if someone wasn’t a thief in life, they didn’t need to worry about anything being stolen from them. Tess had been fascinated by the concept. She had thought about it a long time until finally she realized that what she was actually thinking about was how odd she found it that a woman of such depth and wisdom would be close friends with someone like Dusty. It had been the catalyst to her watching and listening to Dusty more closely.
At the time, Tess and Dusty had slept together once—a pity shag, as Maggie might have called it, on Dusty’s part. It had happened one night when she and Dusty were alone in the house, and Tess had finally thought about leaving her grief behind to consider the possibility of another relationship. The thought of it, though, had terrified her so badly she had ended up in tears, curled up on the living room sofa. Absorbed in her emotions, she hadn’t heard Dusty come downstairs.
“Tess?” Dusty’s voice had been soft, her touch gentle as her fingers grazed Tess’s shoulder.
Tess jumped and sat up, trying to stifle her sobs.
“Are you okay? Is there something I can do?”
“No. No, I’m fine.” Tess had run her hands down her face to wipe away the stream of tears.
Dusty grabbed the box of tissues that lived on the credenza behind the couch. She offered it to Tess and sat beside her. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine.”
Tess glanced at her.
Dusty’s eyes were wide. She actually looked more frightened than Tess felt. She was obviously uncomfortable dealing with crying women. Her attempt touched Tess’s heart.
Tess inhaled deeply to get control of herself. “No, really, I am. You don’t need to worry.”
Dusty released a sigh, and her body relaxed.
Tess dried her eyes and blew her nose into a tissue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were home.”
Dusty shifted on the edge of the cushion. “Well, yeah…that’s okay.” She fidgeted. “Are you sure there’s nothing you need?”
Calmer, Tess had reflected on the question, and a crazy thought entered her mind. She’d known at the time it was crazy, and yet, she considered it anyway. Maybe she wasn’t ready for another relationship, or even ready to date, but what about just sex? She had never done that before, but she missed being touched. She missed the feel of a woman’s arms around her, of silky skin against her own, and Dusty wouldn’t mind. Would she? Dusty did that all the time.
“Tess?”
Dusty interrupted her thoughts, and she realized they had been staring at one another. “Dusty…”
“Yeah?” Dusty looked wary again. She really was cute.
Tess ran a fingertip over Dusty’s lips. They were soft, warm. Tess pressed her mouth to Dusty’s.
And that’s how it had begun.
In the eleven months since, Tess had learned without a doubt that Dusty ran much deeper than she revealed to anyone. Without ever saying a word about it, she had continued, in her way, what Maggie had begun in helping to bring Tess back to life. Dusty always allowed her to set the mood, the pace, and the frequency, and then always gave her exactly what she needed. It was tender when she needed tenderness. It was red hot when she needed heat. Dusty let her be romantic or lustful, in charge or submissive. Tess had explored parts of herself with Dusty that she had never been able to broach with Alicia, and all because it was never spoken. It was simply done. Tess had never felt so unconditionally accepted as she did with Dusty.
It was all only in the bedroom, though. Tess sometimes wondered if Dusty would be like that in all areas of a relationship, but then reminded herself—Dusty didn’t have relationships. She had sex. And she was very good at it.
Even if Dusty were to have relationships, she would most likely have them with women far different from Tess. She would have wild, adventurous involvements with women who lived on the edge, women who explored things beyond the scope of Tess’s imagination and comfort zone. No, Dusty would never be interested in someone like her in any kind of real way.
“Good morning, Dr. Rossini,” a voice called.
Tess followed the sound and saw Randy Ortega jogging around the outside of the quad. “Good morning. How is your dad?”
He headed in her direction. “Better. The doctor says he’ll probably make a full recovery if he follows orders.” Randy jogged in place in front of her, his breathing barely above normal. “Thank you again for all your help.”
“You’re welcome, but you’ve thanked me enough.” Tess smiled.
Randy had shown up for the school year a week late because his father had a heart attack. The college’s policy mandated that if a student didn’t attend the first day of class, the spot was lost, but when he had come to her with the explanation of his circumstances and begged to be allowed to take her course, she couldn’t say no. He was a good student who had been in several of her previous classes and promised to catch up on the material he had missed. Because she trusted him, she had even gone so far as to convince JoAnn Bennett to go to bat for him with his remaining classes in the psych department, though she knew JoAnn’s willingness to do so had far more to do with Tess than Randy.
“I’m just grateful I didn’t have to miss a whole semester. Can I carry your briefcase, or get you anything from the cafeteria, or wash your car while—”
Tess laughed and began to walk again. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not my slave. Just finish your run and be sure you’re ready for today’s class.”
“Okay.” Randy chuckled. “Have a great day. I’ll see you later.”
As Tess heard his footsteps fade, the thought of JoAnn lingered in her mind as a contrast to her earlier musings about Dusty. JoAnn was far more the type of woman about whom she should be thinking. She and JoAnn worked in the same field, had the same level of education, and shared similar backgrounds in the areas of relationships and family. Tess realized that she didn’t actually know anything about Dusty’s family. Did she have siblings? Were her parents living? Was she even from Southern California? As she thought about it, in the three years they had lived in the same house, she had never known Dusty to visit family for holidays or at any other time. How could she know so little about a woman she knew so intimately in other ways? They could have far more in common than she knew…
Could she ask Maggie? That was absurd. Was she eleven? If she wanted to know something about Dusty, of course, she should ask Dusty. What good would that do, though? Knowing more about Dusty would most likely only deepen the already intense feelings Tess had developed for her. The last several times they had slept together, Tess had been left wanting so much more, and not just more sex or another orgasm. As she had felt Dusty leave her bed, she’d had to restrain herself from pulling her back into her arms to hold her through the night. Once, she had even gone so far as to allow herself to fantasize, while Dusty’s strong fingers thrust into her and her soft lips suckled her nipples, that she was all hers—to sleep with every night, to wake with every morning. Frightening.
What was she thinking? Dusty belonged to no one.
She sighed and unlocked her office door. She forced her thoughts to the day ahead. She had morning office hours, a department meeting, and her Victorian lit class in the afternoon. Somewhere in there, she also needed to finish grading the essays from her freshman comp class.
She knew she should focus on now, this moment, and the reality of life, but Dusty still lingered at the edge of her mind. She leaned back in her chair, sipped her coffee, and allowed herself to once again close the distance between them.
A soft knock sounded on Tess’s open door, and she started. She felt the hea
t flood up her neck and into her face as she pressed her thighs together to stem the ache caused by her inappropriate workplace fantasies.
“Dr. Rossini?” Sandra Jenkins said from the hallway. “Can I talk to you?” Sandra was a student from the Psychology in Literature class Tess was team-teaching with JoAnn.
Tess cleared her throat. “Of course. Please come in and have a seat.”
*
Afterward, Tess considered their conversation. Though Sandra had initially said she wanted to talk about her paper, in fact, she’d wanted advice on girls. One girl, the one she really liked, she felt was out of her league, and the other more suited to her was nice but didn’t do it for her. Tess had told her to pursue the one that made her face light up. If she didn’t, she would never know what might have been.
Tess settled back into her chair and thought about her own advice. Would she always regret it if she didn’t speak to Dusty about how she felt? Would she always wonder? That is what she had said to Sandra, but that was different. Sandra was young, and youth was the time for adventurous decisions, experimentation. She hadn’t already been through the loss of a partner, the loss of a life. Besides, she didn’t yet know the girl she was attracted to, didn’t truly know if she was correct in her assumptions about her.
Tess knew Dusty, to a degree, and had watched the way she lived for the past three years, had heard her stories that she shared with Addison. She’d heard Dusty talk about the women who had tried to get her into a relationship, and that discussion always had the same conclusion. Plus, Tess and Dusty shared the same home. If Sandra asked out her new interest and it didn’t work out, they could go their separate ways. If Tess approached Dusty and it didn’t work out, things could become so uncomfortable that someone could lose her home. Yes, Tess’s situation was definitely different.
So, what was that whole conversation about for her? What should she be hearing in it—the part about the other girl, the one with whom she had so much in common? JoAnn?
JoAnn seemed sweet, dependable, and she shared some similar interests with Tess, reading and foreign films, among others. Tess had also found herself enjoying some of Dusty’s picks for movie night at the house, though. She had loved Groundhog Day so much that she watched it by herself periodically. Mostly what she loved about the movies Dusty chose, however, was how hard Dusty laughed at them. Tess smiled.
Stop this. Deep down, she knew that any decision about talking with Dusty about her feelings had already been made. She knew she had to get control of her thinking, her emotions. No good for anyone would come of it if she didn’t.
The one thing all of this did tell Tess, however, was that even if pursuing an involvement with Dusty wasn’t realistic, she was thinking about being in a relationship again. That was something she hadn’t done since Alicia’s death. Maybe she was ready, at least for a date. With resolve, she opened her briefcase and started grading essays while she finished her office hours.
At eleven o’clock, Tess pulled her door closed behind her and walked across campus to Gregg Hall where the behavioral science labs and faculty offices were housed. She had written a note to leave in case JoAnn was not in, but as she rounded the corner of the corridor, she saw the door ajar. She knocked and eased it open.
JoAnn sat at her desk, the telephone receiver to her ear. Her light brown, close-cut hair shone under the fluorescent lighting. She smiled and waved Tess inside. “Yes,” she said into the mouthpiece. “I’ll be there…Okay…I’ll see you then…Bye.” She hung up and turned to Tess.
“Hi,” Tess said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. Please sit.” JoAnn’s office was bigger than Tess’s and accommodated a small sitting area that held a loveseat and an upholstered chair, arranged around an oval table.
“How is your morning?”
“Much better now.” A broad grin lit JoAnn’s eyes. She settled onto the loveseat across from Tess. In her early forties, she held herself with a light air that belied her more serious nature. Her once-athletic build now carried a few extra pounds, but they suited her, giving her the feel of an enticement into comfort, a soft place to land at the end of a long day. She continued to smile at Tess. “What’s on your mind? Something I should know about class?”
Tess warmed under JoAnn’s concentrated attention, knowing what she was there to do. “No, nothing to do with class. I’ve been thinking about your invitations over time, and I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch.”
JoAnn blinked. “Really?”
Tess smiled. “Yes.”
“Not a lunch as colleagues? But a lunch date?”
“Yes, a lunch date.” Tess felt a twinge of excitement at the confirmation, but at the same time, there was something disappointing about it. Deep down, there was a part of her that wished it were Dusty she was asking out. She put the thought aside. It was time to begin to move on, and Dusty, as good as she had been for Tess, wasn’t looking for the same things in life.
“You know I would love to have lunch with you, and anything else you want,” JoAnn said.
Tess allowed herself to feel the pleasure of JoAnn’s interest though, as usual, she remained cautious. “Just lunch for now. I’m hoping we can take it slowly?”
“Certainly, whatever you need.” JoAnn reached across the table and took Tess’s hand in hers. “You set whatever pace makes you comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Tess squeezed JoAnn’s fingers, then gently pulled her hand away. “I thought maybe Saturday might be nice. If you’re free, of course. That way we could get completely away from campus and anything that could resemble work.”
“Sounds great.” JoAnn grinned. “Where would you like to go? Anywhere. You name it.”
“Why don’t you surprise me? I picked the day. You pick the place.”
*
As Tess opened the front door and stepped into the foyer, she heard voices from the TV room.
“Who’s there?” Dusty called over the back of the double rocker-recliner she sat in watching the big screen television.
“Only me.” Tess set her briefcase and purse on the table just inside the doorway. Baxter lay sprawled out on his side on the floor next to Dusty. He barely raised his head to look at Tess. On the screen, two children huddled together while a man threw things around a darkened room.
“Hey. How’s it going?” Dusty asked.
Tess moved around to sit beside her in the empty half of the rocker, stopping to scratch the Rottweiler’s ear on her way past him. “Pretty well. What did you do to Baxter? I’ve never seen him this subdued.”
“We went on a hike in the hills. He’s worn out.”
“I’ll say. What are you watching?”
Dusty sat with her feet up, with a half-empty box of chocolate-covered cherries on the arm of the chair, the box Tess had seen Addison bring to Maggie when she had come home late the night before. “Some Lifetime thing about foster kids.”
Tess watched the movie while she removed her shoes and dropped them to the floor. This room, decorated in the warmth of earth tones, always soothed her, and she felt the tension of her emotionally charged day begin to drain away. She pulled the lever that lifted the section beneath her feet. “What’s happening?”
“I dunno. I just turned it on. It’s Lifetime, you know? I’m just grateful no one’s dying of leukemia yet.”
Tess smiled, knowing Dusty’s opinion that the women’s network aired too many shmaltzy, sad stories. “Is anyone else home?” She began rubbing the sole of her foot.
Dusty shook her head in answer to the question. “Man, I dunno how you wear those things all day,” she said, indicating Tess’s high heels. She gently took Tess’s foot and eased it into her lap. She began massaging the arch.
“Ooooh.” Tess closed her eyes, shifted sideways, and stretched out, resting her other foot on Dusty’s thigh. Dusty’s hands always felt so good, no matter what part of her body they were touching. As she enjoyed the sensations, she listened to the dialogu
e of the movie. The children wanted their real parents. Tess’s thoughts returned to her questions about Dusty’s family from earlier that day. She opened her eyes and looked at her. “Dusty?”
“Hm?” Dusty switched feet and began rubbing Tess’s toes.
“Mmmm.” Tess had to concentrate. “Do you ever see your parents?”
Dusty looked up, surprise evident in her eyes. Her fingers moved down the sole of Tess’s foot. She considered Tess briefly then returned her gaze to her task. “I never knew my dad, and my mom died when I was little.”
Tess studied her. There was no emotion in her expression or her voice. “Who raised you?”
“My gramma.” An almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of Dusty’s lips. “She’s the one who taught me to laugh. She always said, ‘If you’re not having fun, there’s something wrong with you.’” Dusty grinned. “She was a kick.”
Tess felt Dusty’s fingers work their magic around the back of her heel as she listened. She was so forthcoming. Would it have always been this easy to learn more about her? “What happened to her?” Tess asked finally.
“She died of cancer when I was sixteen.” A tinge of sadness tempered her tone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Dusty looked up at her and grinned. “Thanks. But she told me right before she died that anytime I thought of her, I’d better be smiling. And she’s not someone you’d wanna mess with.”
Tess’s heart softened. “Where did you live after that?”
“Well, I already had a good job with the city parks, so I took the GED, got emancipated, and found an apartment.” Turning her attention back to her hands, Dusty increased the pressure of her thumb as she rubbed the inside arch of Tess’s left foot.
Pleasure shot straight up Tess’s inseam, finding its home in the apex of her thighs. She moaned softly, and her body tensed.
Dusty gave her a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow.
Tess let her head fall back. She closed her eyes again. “How do you know exactly where to touch me?” It was a question she had always wanted to ask but had never felt comfortable enough—until now. Why now?
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