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by Georgia Beers


  “Every time I kiss Rachel, I have a sex dream about Theresa.” Courtney blurted it out before she could stop herself. Relief doused her like a shower. “There. I said it.”

  “Me, too!” Lisa’s excitement was obvious. “Oh, thank God. I didn’t want to get that personal in group, but that’s happened to me, too.”

  “You’ve been kissing Rachel and dreaming about Theresa?” Courtney winked.

  “Hardy har har. You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” She sipped again and looked around the shop at the other patrons. After a few seconds of silence, she focused on Lisa. “It’s happened twice now. I have a great time with Rachel, we end up making out, and late that night, I dream I’m having sex with Theresa and she’s being all possessive. Which I usually find sexy, by the way. But now? It just makes me feel guilty for being at all physical with Rachel. And last time?” She remembered what she now referred to as the Threesome Dream and was hit with the familiar mix of excitement and weirdness and suddenly felt very self-conscious about sharing. She shook the flashback away. “Don’t get me started on last time. It’s just so hard, you know? I want to know when it’s going to stop.” She grimaced at her own words because the thought of losing what little connection she still had to Theresa—even if it was only in her dreams—terrified her. “Is that bad?”

  Lisa cocked her head in sympathy. “How can it be bad? We can’t be expected to grieve forever, can we? We need to be able to move on. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “I want to sleep with Mark, damn it.” Lisa grinned even as her pale face flushed a pretty pink. “Without underlying issues.”

  Courtney grinned back. “You’re both very lucky people. You make a great couple. I couldn’t be happier for either of you.”

  Lisa sighed. “He’s amazing.” After a beat, she asked, “Do you want to sleep with Rachel?”

  “God, yes.” Courtney blew out a breath of frustration.

  Lisa laughed outright. “Yeah, she’s a damn knockout. I know women who would sell their own children for a chance to look like her.” She cocked her head and said, “I like her. She’s a little tough to get to know, but I like her.”

  “She’s pretty private, that’s for sure. It’s not easy to get her to open up, but I’m working on it.”

  “Good kisser?” Waggling eyebrows were visible over the rim of Lisa’s cup.

  Dropping her head into her hands, Courtney whined, “Jesus, you have no idea.”

  *

  “You certainly seem chipper today.” Danny Boyle smiled at Rachel while she whistled as she checked her e-mail.

  “Are you saying that I’m not usually chipper?” Rachel winked at him.

  “Well…” He hesitated for a split second, then laughed. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re usually more…intense when you’re working.” He squinted at her for a minute longer before blurting out, “Are you getting laid?”

  “Danny!” Rachel couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

  Rachel smiled and continued to peruse the computer monitor, well aware of the fact that she was being studied like an insect under a microscope by her officemate. What she didn’t tell Danny was that she’d been on the same page for nearly twenty minutes and had no clue what was listed. She’d been thinking about Courtney. More specifically, about kissing Courtney and how today was Halloween and she’d be spending the evening with Courtney. Reflecting on the way they’d made out in the car like two teenagers, wrinkling one another’s clothes and fogging up the windows, Rachel unconsciously squeezed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the light throbbing there. Not the kind of woman who normally felt anything even remotely resembling giddiness, Rachel wasn’t sure what to do with the growing excitement in her belly.

  It had been a long time since she felt this way about another woman. Her last girlfriend left her over three years ago, claiming “emotional distance.” To this day, Rachel wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but the fact that she’d adjusted to single life very quickly and easily told her all she needed to know about that particular relationship. Sure, she’d dated on and off since then, had a few one-night stands. She never had trouble finding a woman who was interested in her. What she did have trouble finding was a woman who interested her. What was it about Courtney that drew her so strongly? She couldn’t stay away. She didn’t want to.

  Like a moth to a flame, but hopefully with less fatal results, she thought humorously.

  Another fifteen minutes of staring went by before she gave up on any form of concentration. Pushing her chair back from her desk, she stood.

  “I’m going to go for a drive, check my signs, see what’s around,” she said to Danny, who smirked knowingly.

  “Have fun daydreaming,” he replied.

  The day was cool, but the sky was clear and the sun bathed the world in a warm, cheerful light. Rachel loved to drive in the sunshine; it always helped her to clear her mind and lighten her mood. There was no need for “checking her signs” and both she and Danny knew it. It was their code phrase for “I need to get the hell out of the office for a while before I go insane.”

  She’d parked in a sunny spot and her car was toasty warm. She shed her light trench coat and tossed it in the backseat, her pants and suit jacket more than enough to keep her comfortable as she drove. She donned a pair of black-rimmed sunglasses and was on her way, no particular destination in mind.

  The kids should have a nice night for trick-or-treating, she thought as she slid the cover for the sunroof back and allowed the rays of warmth to stream into the interior of the car. She smiled as she thought about the evening ahead, of spending it with costumed children, scary movies, and Courtney McAllister. She wondered when and if they should talk about Courtney’s ex.

  Wait, should she be referred to as an ex if she didn’t actually leave Courtney, but died instead? The political correctness was suddenly baffling for Rachel, which then made her laugh as she remembered that she’d actually referred to the poor, deceased woman as “baggage” at one point. She frowned in self-deprecation and didn’t like not knowing the correct manner with which to proceed. Shaking the confusion from her head, she went back to her original thought. They should talk. Shouldn’t they? At some point? She wasn’t sure if Courtney had any kind of hesitation or boundaries or whatever when it came to dating, and she didn’t want to trample anything she didn’t know was there. Courtney hadn’t mentioned Theresa very often and Rachel wondered if that was for her benefit or for Courtney’s.

  She vowed that tonight, she was going to test those waters.

  *

  Across the city at the high school where Courtney worked, she was as excited about the evening as Rachel was. She spent more time glancing at the clock than she did actually teaching lessons to her students. More than once, she caught herself humming a little tune as she walked the halls, corrected papers, got a Coke from the machine in the teachers’ lounge. The previous night, she’d hollowed out two pumpkins and was looking forward to roasting the seeds as she and Rachel answered the door and doled out candy to the children of the neighborhood, bloodcurdling screams issuing from the horror movie on the television. The perfect Halloween.

  For the umpteenth time today, her thoughts drifted to the previous Sunday. When was the last time she’d seriously made out in a car? When she was first dating Theresa, maybe? God… She brought her fingertips to her lips and swore she could still feel the pressure of Rachel’s mouth on hers, the warm wetness of Rachel’s tongue exploring, sliding along her flesh. That, of course, led to reminiscing about the feel of two sets of fingers fondling her breasts, two pairs of eyes watching her let her guard down, two sets of hands tugging at her drenched panties…

  “Ms. McAllister?” The girl’s voice was small, uncertain.

  Courtney’s head jerked, as though she’d been pulled from a dream. She cleared her throat, noticing the room was fairly quiet, that Suzanne Carlyle had finished the chapter she was reading aloud to the
class.

  Thank God they’d reached the end of the session. She was able to cover her embarrassment by closing her book and shuffling papers on her desk as she spoke. “All right, that’s enough for today. Tomorrow, we’ll continue with the story. Feel free to read ahead tonight if you want, though I suspect most of you will be out causing trouble.” A ripple of laughter went through the room as the students packed up their paraphernalia. The bell rang and they sprang to freedom. “Be careful tonight,” she added, infusing her voice with a serious note. Withdrawing three cell phones from her desk, she stood and handed them to their chagrined owners as they exited the room.

  Andrew Gray, as usual, was the last one. He moseyed up the aisle, lumbering slowly like he always did and stepped directly into Courtney’s space, just like every other day when he picked up his phone.

  Today, however, was different.

  Courtney was too excited about the upcoming evening, too keyed up, not to mention confused, because she couldn’t get Rachel Hart out of her head, and sick to death of being treated without respect by this young man. Today, when Andrew Gray stepped into her breathing space, she planted her hand firmly on his chest and pushed him, forcing him to take a step back.

  “You better knock that shit off, buddy,” she snarled, glaring directly up into his face. “Right now. This is your last chance. I catch you using that phone one more time, you’re out of here. And I don’t give a shit whether or not you graduate.” She wondered if she actually growled at him.

  Andrew seemed almost stunned by her sudden courage. He stood and blinked at her, disbelief clearly etched on his face as a small red circle blossomed on each of his cheeks. He snatched his cell phone out of Courtney’s hand and bolted for the door like he was being chased by a horror movie villain, nearly knocking the cleaning woman over in his haste to exit.

  “There a fire in here?” she asked as her gaze followed him out the door.

  “Actually, I think I may have finally doused one,” Courtney replied, her smile huge. Theresa would be proud of her, she was sure of it.

  One more class to go and it’s time for my Halloween date.

  Courtney couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she gathered up her stuff and hurried out of the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Courtney said.

  “Me, too.”

  Courtney handed Rachel a refilled glass of wine and sat next to her on the couch, brushing Rachel’s hair behind her ear with warm fingertips in a move that seemed perfectly natural.

  Rachel made a show of sniffing the air. “Hey, are those pumpkin seeds I smell?”

  “Why, yes, they are. I hope they’re not burning.” Courtney headed off to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Think you have room after all that dinner? The leftovers are going to supply us with lunch for a week.”

  The doorbell rang before Rachel could reply, and she stood to answer it.

  A tiny little body stood in the doorway. He was barely as high as Rachel’s knees and couldn’t have been more than four years old. He was dressed in a familiar red and blue costume. She smiled down at him. “Hi there.”

  He held out a plastic pumpkin pail. “Trick or treat?”

  “Hey, Courtney, come in here. Spider-Man is at the door.”

  Courtney entered the foyer just as the tiny little superhero looked carefully to his left, then to his right. Seemingly satisfied that nobody was nearby to overhear him, he leaned forward conspiratorially. Rachel and Courtney leaned down in order to hear him better. In a hushed whisper, he informed them, “I’m really Scott.”

  Rachel bit her bottom lip to contain the laughter that threatened to burst forth.

  Courtney grinned at him and kept her voice low. “Don’t you worry, Scott. We promise not to reveal the true identity of Spider-Man. We can keep a secret.” With that, she shoveled an enormous handful of candy from her bowl into Scott’s pail. Glancing down the walk at the young couple waiting for him, she said loudly, “You have a good night, Spider-Man. It was so good of you to stop by and check on things.”

  “Thanks!” He skipped down the steps as his parents waved to the women.

  Courtney waved back at them, then closed the door and turned to Rachel. “How freakin’ cute was that?”

  “Oh, my God, I think I’m in love.”

  “I hope we don’t get too many more that cute or I’m going to run out of candy in ten minutes.”

  They continued to watch television, munch pumpkin seeds, and share door duties, alternating unless a particularly adorable visitor needed to be seen by both. That happened more than once, and by eight thirty, the street had pretty much cleared of trick-or-treaters.

  “Let’s give it a little more time,” Courtney suggested after pulling her head back in from a glance outside. “There might be a few more.”

  Rachel loved the childlike exuberance that Courtney seemed to have for the holiday, found it refreshing. She lifted her arm as Courtney joined her on the couch and cuddled close, her head against Rachel’s shoulder. They continued to watch Scream on the television.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” Courtney said, poking Rachel in the ribs. “It’s classic horror, but with intelligent writing.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  “Well, now you do.”

  Rachel looked sheepish. “I can’t watch scary movies by myself.”

  Courtney grinned. “I’ll protect you.”

  Rachel hesitated for a split second before asking, “Did Theresa like scary movies?”

  Faltering for only a brief moment, Courtney replied evenly, “Not really.”

  “What kind of movies did she like?”

  “Romantic comedies, mostly.”

  “I like those, too.” Rachel turned to look at Courtney, who was suddenly very focused on the TV screen. She felt intrusive, asking about Theresa; it made her uncomfortable, like she was prying. So much for that idea. She was disappointed with her own reluctance to push a little harder, but Courtney all of a sudden seemed…vulnerable. Rachel wanted nothing more than to shelter her from whatever Big Bad might come at her in life.

  Courtney cleared her throat and they both tried to focus on the movie.

  Neve Campbell was sprinting through her house, trying to escape the knife-wielding, black-robed, masked figure determined to kill her. She ran into her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and then opened the nearby closet door. When the killer tried to thrust through the bedroom door, the knob from the closet door locked against the edge of the bedroom door and the killer couldn’t get it open enough to enter.

  Courtney giggled with glee. “I love that! I think it’s so creative. I wonder if the guy who wrote this movie had his own bedroom set up like that. How else do you come up with those logistics?” She glanced up at Rachel, who was still looking at her.

  “What?” Courtney asked, her voice cracking.

  Rachel said nothing. Instead, she cupped Courtney’s chin and tilted her face up so their lips could meet. The kiss began as soft, sweet, and gentle, but within minutes became much, much more. Deep. Thorough. Demanding. They sank into each other, the sounds and smells around them fading away. After a short span of time—and not quite sure how she got there—Courtney found herself on her back on the couch, Rachel’s body covering hers, Rachel’s tongue in her mouth, Rachel’s hand under her shirt and caressing her breast through her bra with such determined precision that Courtney felt a rush of wetness between her legs. Eventually, she managed to wrench her mouth away long enough to mutter, “Bed. Raich? I have a bed.”

  “Maybe we should use it,” Rachel husked back at her. “Yes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They untangled themselves from each other. Rachel clicked off the television while Courtney stepped outside and peeked up and down the street one more time, noting no movement other than a stray tiger cat slinking across the street. She hit the light switch for the porch, plunging it into darkness
, and then locked the front door. She turned and jumped to find Rachel right behind her.

  The thump of her back hitting the door reverberated through the quiet living room and forced a gasp from Courtney’s lungs just before Rachel’s mouth crashed down onto hers. Rachel had several inches on her height-wise, and Courtney suddenly found herself thinking what an unfamiliar feeling it was to have to crane her neck up to kiss somebody. Theresa had been smaller than her and Courtney had to hunch forward a bit to kiss her. Rachel’s hands were much larger than Theresa’s, too; she could feel their warmth on her waist, when Rachel grasped her shirt and pulled it up and off. Rachel’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  “God,” she murmured against Courtney’s lips. “My God, you feel good.” Rachel slid her hands up the silky soft skin of Courtney’s torso and cupped a breast in each hand, kneading them through the cotton of her bra, feeling the nipples pushing against the fabric as she imprisoned Courtney between the door and her own body.

  Courtney had a quick flash of her dream, but shook it away, not wanting the urgency of this moment to end. Bed. Combined with the heat of desire bubbling in her core, Courtney abruptly felt the burning need to get Rachel to the bedroom, to a place where they were once again horizontal and the differences between Rachel and Theresa wouldn’t be so obvious to her. Maybe that would help to tamp down some of the guilt that was springing forth…would quiet the mantra in the back of her mind that was whispering in a singsong, “cheater, cheater, cheater,” the voice frighteningly similar to Theresa’s.

  It wasn’t easy, but Courtney managed to free herself from Rachel’s grip, ducking under one arm. “Come on,” she said and hardly recognized her own gravelly voice. She took Rachel’s hand and led her up the stairs to the bedroom. Once there, she barely had time to turn before Rachel was on her again, Rachel’s tongue blazing a fiery trail up the side of Courtney’s neck. Courtney tried her hardest to lose herself in the feeling, to drown out the distractions by focusing on the physical, to not hear Theresa directing Rachel on where to touch her and how. It wasn’t easy. Theresa’s face kept appearing, unbidden, in her mind. If she opened her eyes, she saw Rachel—beautiful, flushed, in control, and so not Theresa. If she closed her eyes, she saw Theresa, felt Theresa touching her, kissing her, heard Theresa’s voice whispering in her ear.

 

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