Watermark

by Karin Kallmaker

  "What?"

  "All About Eve. Lou's favorite movie."

  Rayann spluttered into her drink. "I watched that, too. But I saw it in the TV guide."

  "Well, it was weird. I was awake all night and I told Lou that I could do without that kind of ex¬perience."

  "Do you think she heard you?" It took conscious effort not to glance in Teresa's direction, but she was dying to know if Teresa was still looking at her.

  "Hell, I don't know. I felt better."

  Rayann grinned. "You know, I talk to her some¬times, too. But I finally stopped getting answers."

  Danny's smile was more wistful. "I know what you mean."

  Danny shoved off a little bit later, and Rayann realized she had no reason to linger. She settled up with Jill and, without wanting to, looked at where Teresa had been sitting.

  Teresa's dinner companion was heading out the door, leaving Teresa at the table with the last of her dinner.

  She could not not say something to her. Avoiding Teresa was an admission that she was afraid of what would happen if they were alone together.

  Teresa didn't look in the least bit surprised when Rayann stopped at the table. "Have a seat. I was just grabbing some dinner with my roommate, but I have to go back to the office."

  "You work too hard." Rayann sat down. Roommate, not girlfriend. Oh stop, she told herself. It doesn't

  matter to you. "You work harder than I do, which by definition is too hard."

  Teresa's smile was a little forced. "I'm just trying to impress the powers that be." The waitress dropped off her change and Teresa pocketed the coins and left the bills. "Well, I have to get back."

  "I'm heading home — it's the same train."

  They walked to the station together and leaned against the door rails even though there were seats available.

  "What has you working late?"

  "The color palette for Tichon. I know I shouldn't fuss so much when the printers will botch it anyway, but the presentation needs to be right."

  "Too true. Did you ever see a movie called Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House?"

  Teresa shook her head.

  "It's an old Cary Grant, Myrna Loy movie about building a house in Connecticut for the outrageous sum of fifteen thousand dollars. I always think of it when printers mess up the colors, because there's a great scene where Myrna Loy is giving samples to the painters. She goes from room to room. In this room robin's-egg, the next something between buttercup and sunshine. In the next it's a July leaf. She finishes explaining all of this to the painter and walks away. The painter goes over to the guy with the brush and says, 'Blue, yellow and green.' "

  Teresa chuckled. "That's what it feels like some¬times. I feel as if I specify Pantone two-twenty-four and the printer just says, 'Something in the two hundreds.' "

  Rayann did not find the silence that fell in the least bit comfortable. It made her fidget. When they

  pulled into the Montgomery Street station she got off, even though Embarcadero was closer to home. "I may as well pick up some reading material," she said.

  Teresa just nodded. They were at the street level when Teresa stopped. "I... I don't feel like working tonight."

  "There's no reason why you should."

  They stood under a dim street lamp. Rayann found she could not make herself walk away.

  "You wanted to know what I knew about pain. When you asked me that, I didn't have an answer." Teresa raised her chin. "I have one now. The answer is that everything I know about pain I learned from a master."

  Rayann gasped. "How can you say that? I've tried—"

  "It's nothing you've done. Or haven't done. It's just who you are. You still love her. You're still toasting her. You might be smiling more, laughing more, but she's always there. I think if I held you up to the light I'd see her face. It's just the way it is." A lone tear trickled across Teresa's cheek.

  "It's the way it is now," Rayann managed. "I don't know about next week, or next year."

  "You don't have to make me feel better." Teresa turned her face away. "If it's all I can have, at least let me have the pain."

  "Teresa."

  "Don't."

  "Can we talk about it?"

  "What's to discuss?"

  What indeed. Rayann knew she should let it go. She cleared her tight throat and took what felt like one of the biggest risks of her life. "How about that I

  can't forget the way you touched me? That I don't want to forget it?"

  Teresa looked at her as if she was lying. She smiled bitterly. "Are you offering me more of the same?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, let's go then. Is your place far?"

  This was not what Rayann had expected. "Not really, if you don't mind a walk."

  "The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be in bed."

  They walked in silence. Rayann dreaded arriving at her building. What did she really know about Teresa? What if this time they ended with recriminations instead of tenderness?

  What was she doing?

  Teresa tried to tell herself she was shivering be¬cause it was cold and not because she was both angry and frightened. She would not be a bed toy for Rayann while she got over the sainted Louisa. But she wanted to be in Rayann's arms again so badly that she was afraid she would accept those terms.

  Would it really hurt for one night? Maybe it would flush Rayann out of her system. The harm was that one night could become two, she thought. Two could become four.

  The building was perched on the bay shoreline, and Rayann's condo looked eastward toward Alameda and the glittering Oakland hills. Any other time she would have stopped to absorb the view, but instead Teresa unbuttoned her jacket. She spoke for the first

  time since they'd headed toward Rayann's. "Which way is the bedroom?"

  Rayann winced. Teresa didn't know why she was trying to ruin things. Maybe she was hoping it would be really bad sex and she'd fall out of love.

  Rayann gestured toward the hallway and Teresa made her way in the dim light to the only bedroom with any furnishings. They were spare — a double bed and a small dresser.

  She went about taking her clothes off in a businesslike fashion.

  "Teresa, why are you doing this?"

  She stood there with her shirt off and in her bare feet. What was she supposed to say, that she was here because every cell in her body was crying out for Rayann's touch? The truth was too painful. She was here because she couldn't say no. She took the child's way out. "Because I hate you."

  Rayann's gaze was devouring her breasts and her mouth had parted. When Teresa moved her hands to her zipper, Rayann's gaze followed.

  Teresa's head whirled with the idea that she had any power over Rayann at all. She slowly pushed down her jeans, removing one leg at a time, then let them fall to the floor with a whoosh.

  Rayann jumped at the sound. Teresa walked slowly toward her. When she was close enough to be touched, she stopped and waited. Rayann was breathing hard. Her eyes closed and then opened as if she couldn't help herself.

  Touch me, Teresa willed.

  Rayann's hands finally moved. She brought her fingertips to Teresa's hips. Gentle pressure made

  Teresa step forward and she was enfolded in Rayann's arms.

  Rayann held her, kissed her with bruising force. One hand was already pushing its way between Teresa's thighs. "This is what you wanted, right?"

  Yes and no. She couldn't stop the tears she'd been holding in since she'd heard Rayann toasting her dead lover. "Yes," she managed through another harsh kiss.

  She was on her back on the bed. Rayann was between her legs, her hand teasing. Teresa reached for Rayann's breasts and was confused when she found only clothing. Her body chilled. Rayann hadn't even taken her jacket off. This was not what she wanted. She didn't want to be just a body.

  "No," she whimpered and she cursed herself for a weakling.

  Rayann froze. After a ragged breath she stood up. Teresa was trembling with conflicting desires.


  "Which is it?" Rayann's face was lost in the dark¬ness.

  Only the truth was left. She sat up. "I want this." Her voice broke. "I want you. I thought I could pre¬tend it was just sex, but I can't."

  Rayann dropped to her knees next to the bed. "I'm sorry. I was mean. I don't know why. I'm so afraid it is just sex and I don't want to use you."

  "You still love her."

  "Yes. Yes, I do." Rayann's voice was anguished. "I'll never stop. And I don't know yet if I can grow another heart." A sob turned into a laugh as she wiped her eyes. "I know that sounds corny."

  "Yeah. Yeah, it does." Teresa had no idea what part of her found the ability to smile.

  Rayann slid out of her jacket. "Let's start over."

  Teresa unbuttoned Rayann's blouse as she ducked her head for a more tender kiss. It ended with their noses and cheeks brushing in a fevered exploration that led to fingers trailing over ears and under jaws, then lightly over shoulders.

  Rayann joined her on the bed and Teresa held nothing back. She brought Rayann's hand to where she so badly needed her touch and buried her mouth in the heat of Rayann's breasts.

  The answer was yes — the question did not matter. With each heartbeat Teresa found another well of desire only to have it quenched in the next flicker of Rayann's fingers.

  She swam in Rayann after that. Gasping for breath, savoring the journey from thigh to shoulders. She found the pulse points that gave origin to the scent of peaches and the tender spots that made Rayann croon with yet more desire, then with satis¬faction.

  The answer was yes — the question did not matter.

  13

  "I thought this day would never end." Rayann rolled over in bed and turned on the light.

  Teresa flinched from the sudden glare. "It was the longest day of my life. What the heck was everyone doing in your office all day?"

  "No work talk," Rayann said. "It isn't important."

  "You're right." Teresa coiled herself around a pillow. "I'm glad it's the weekend, though."

  Rayann thought she looked delectable. The pang of guilt as she thought it was less today. But it was still there. She was glad they weren't sleeping in the big

  bed she'd shared with Louisa. She wasn't prepared for that yet. "What shall we talk about?"

  "After what we just did, I feel brave enough to talk about us."

  Rayann's heart fluttered with sudden panic. "Okay. You start."

  Teresa sat up, all long lines and seductive nakedness. "I was wondering, well, getting up my nerve to ask."

  "Ask what?" Rayann bit her lower lip.

  "Would you like to go out to dinner with me? Maybe to a movie afterward?"

  Rayann blinked. "You mean ... like a date?"

  "I believe that's what it's called. Not that we've ever done it. I think it would be good for us. We can't just leave work, walk here and have sex every night."

  "Whyever not?" Teresa's eyebrows arched and Rayann blew her a kiss. "I'm just teasing. Okay, I can see how dating might be a good thing." Her lips twitched. "Can I expect good things on the first date?"

  "How much are you going to spend on me?"

  "How much do I have to spend?"

  Teresa considered it. "Well, I'm not cheap. But I am on special this week."

  Rayann giggled for what felt like the first time in a year. "What movie do you want to see?"

  "There's a new Jackie Chan — or the new Star Trek."

  Rayann wasn't quite sure what a Jackie Chan was. "There's a Kurosawa retrospective at the Embarca-dero."

  Teresa looked thoughtful. "Okay, we have some work to do there. For dinner?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Steak or seafood?"

  Rayann tried to read Teresa's mind. "Seafood," she said finally.

  Teresa heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

  They sat side by side against the headboard and shared the soda Rayann had found in the fridge.

  "I'm going to ask a serious question," Rayann said. "I want the God's honest truth."

  "Okay."

  "Okay?"

  "Absolutely."

  "The dessert is chocolate. What do you like with it?"

  "Like cake or ice cream?"

  "Whatever, but it's chocolate."

  "Well, caramel is okay. Or another type of choco¬late. Cream, whipped or iced. But no fruit. I'm sorry, but that whole trend of ruining a great slab of choco¬late with gritty, seed-filled something is grotesque."

  Rayann sighed happily. "There's hope."

  "But tell me this. Milk or dark?"

  Rayann thought about it. "Yes."

  Teresa laughed and finished the soda.

  More softly, Rayann said, "I don't know where we're going. I can't promise if this is forever."

  "I don't care if it is or isn't." Teresa hooked her pinkie finger with Rayann's. "All I want is for it to take a really long time for us to find out."

  Rayann snuggled down in the bed. It was too small, but so far it had served its purpose. "This is wrong, you know. We're breaking several important policies."

  "I know. If it becomes an issue maybe I'll go

  freelance." Teresa's knee brushed against Rayann's thigh.

  "But you love working at Liman's. I can tell."

  "I like the people and I like most of the work. But I'm really excited about the mural and so very not excited about fussing over how much of a model's face the shampoo bottle should cover."

  "I know what you mean."

  "It would be like my fourth job in a year. I'm not champing at the bit to do it. But I will if I need to. A year ago I wouldn't have considered taking the risk, but now I could."

  "Well, let's take it as it goes." Rayann trailed a lazy finger down Teresa's arm. "If you had a dream job, what would it be?"

  "You mean other than being the one in charge of powdering Xena so her armor doesn't chafe?"

  "I'm next in line for that one. You can powder Gabrielle."

  "And work my way up to Xena? That does sound challenging... oh ..."

  Rayann liked the way Teresa inhaled sharply when something aroused her. She used just her fingernails on Teresa's breasts and was rewarded with a shudder. There was no guessing with Teresa, another way she would never confuse her with Louisa.

  "I thought we were going on a date." Teresa arched her back.

  "Who said anything about tonight?"

  Teresa left Rayann in deep sleep. A trip to the bathroom was urgently required. She closed the door quietly and switched on the light. Her reflection startled her.

  She approached the mirror slowly, ignoring her squinting in the light and the rumpled mess of her hair.

  The wrinkle was having babies. And there were creases in the corners of her mouth. Love, pain, fear and hope — they showed. They were proof that she was alive. They were proof that she loved.

  She decided right then and there that anti-wrinkle cream would never touch her face.