“What are you thinking about?” Tess asked.
Susan snapped back to reality. Of course she would tell Tess, just not right now. She wanted to make love to Tess and show her how much she meant to her first.
“I’m thinking… about you,” Susan said. She brushed her palm up Tess’s calf.
“Ooh, I see,” Tess said.
Susan wrapped her long fingers around Tess’s hips and pulled her closer. “Thank god we have a huge tub.”
Susan ran her hands up Tess’s slippery hips. She scooped up handfuls of bubbles and caressed the suds over Tess’s breasts. Just the sight of Tess’s breasts sent delighted shivers down Susan’s spine. Her breasts were perfect. Pert with pink nipples. Susan lifted and squeezed Tess’s breasts. She traced Tess’s nipples with her fingertip.
Susan leaned in and kissed her.
Her own dark nipples caressed Tess’s pink nipples.
Susan loved the feeling of skin on skin. Especially in the bath. The suds made every inch of them slippery and silky.
Without stopping the kiss, Susan’s hands traveled between Tess’s legs. As her tongue explored Tess’s mouth, her fingers explored Tess’s enticing warmth.
Encouraged by the quickening of Tess’s breath, Susan parted Tess’s folds and slipped two fingers inside. She moved her fingers deeper, rocking her thumb over Tess’s sensitive spot.
Tess deepened the kiss. Her tongue darted in and out of Susan’s mouth, mimicking the actions of Susan’s fingers.
Tess’s fingers moved between Susan’s legs and found their way inside.
Susan gasped. She bit and sucked on Tess’s bottom lip, thrusting her hips against Tess’s hand.
This was Susan’s favorite thing. Making love to each other at the same time. She loved to feel Tess deep inside her while she moved inside Tess.
Their hips moved together, their breath intertwined, their mouths pressed together. Delicious, delectable fucking. Slow, at first. Then as passions grew more eager, as their hunger increased, their tempo became faster. Harder.
“Are you ready?” Susan said. “I want to come together.”
“I don’t want to come yet,” Tess moaned. “I want to do this forever. You feel so good inside me.”
Susan couldn’t hold back any longer. It was as if she were perched on the edge of a cliff and were going to tumble off any second. She whispered, “I can’t… My god, I’m going to…”
And the release overtook her. Susan threw her head back, arched her back, and sank into the rapture.
Tess was right behind her. She blissfully spasmed and shook against Susan’s embrace.
Neither one removed their fingers. It felt too good to be so full. Both so full and sated at the same time.
***
The next morning, Susan woke late to find a note on Tess’s pillow. It read: Darling, I let you sleep. Text when you get up. I love you, xoxo. Susan looked at the clock. She worked the afternoon shift, which meant she didn’t have to be in until three. She put her hands behind her head and thought about the night before. Tess was a wonderful lover. Susan remembered the first time they’d made love. Tess had been so intuitive to her needs, taking time to relax her, to make her reach heights she didn’t know were possible, not as an afterthought, but as her first thought.
Carrie had always taken and then been stingy in the return as if Susan’s needs were a duty rather than a delight. The sex had been okay, but nowhere near as wonderful as what she shared with Tess.
Susan got up and showered. She lathered and soaped her body, remembering Tess’s hands. Her body ached for more. This was a new experience—actually craving the touch of somebody. She got out of the shower and dried off slowly. Parts of her body felt more alive than they ever had. She couldn’t wait to have Tess in her arms again.
Then she remembered that she still hadn’t told Tess about cosigning the loan. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in her face.
Susan brushed her teeth and stared at her reflection in the mirror. I am a horrible person, she told herself. She’d chosen pleasure over ethics. How many more excuses would she be able to make up before Tess found out from someone else?
She got dressed and poured coffee from the insulated carafe which had kept it warm. Tess was such a considerate partner. It made Susan hate herself even more. Tonight she would confess and pray Tess took it well. Tonight, she promised herself.
As if to admonish her, Rosa called. She didn’t even say hello. Instead she jumped right in with, “Did you tell her?”
Susan didn’t say anything.
“For Chrissakes, really, Susan? You do realize how messed up that is, right?”
“I know... I meant to, but we had such a nice night. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“You better hope it’s not your last night together. Do you want Parker to tell her? It might come off better.”
“No! I did this and I will fix it,” Susan said. She poured cream and sugar into her coffee. “I promise. I’ll tell her today.”
“You better or there will be hell to pay,” Rosa said. “Gotta go, switchboard hell is awaiting me. You would not believe how many calls we’re getting from men who’re scared of their wives. It’s crazy.” She clicked off.
Susan took a deep breath, sighed, and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. She’d do it today. She’d tell Tess and it would be no big deal.
But if it really were no big deal, why was she so scared?
Chapter Fourteen
Amy barely managed to stifle her laughter as Jeb practiced walking around the newspaper office in red, stiletto-heeled shoes. His pants were rolled up to his knees, showing off his scrawny, hairy legs. His big feet were crammed into size thirteen come-fuck-me heels and he walked like a newborn giraffe.
“These things are trickier than they look. Women make it look so easy,” he said. “This Red Shoe March is going to be the death of me.”
“Think of Ginger Rogers dancing with Fred Astaire. She did it backwards and in high heels. I’d like to see Fred do that,” Clementine said. She quickly grabbed Jeb’s arm, stopping him from face-planting.
Clementine was at the newspaper office preparing her notes for her speech that she was giving at the city council meeting—her goal being the removal Mayor Austin from office for being a sexist and homophobe. It had been revealed by an anonymous tip that he was a believer in conversion therapy for gay people. And on top of it all, he was a pervert. Another anonymous tip, evidently from a hacker who’d tapped into the mayor’s browser history, discovered his obsession with porn—an irreparable revelation for a deacon in the Baptist church.
Millie and her Militia had been getting a lot of anonymous tips lately. It might be all right for the POTUS to be a misogynist, racist, homophobic pervert, but Clementine and the women of Fenton would not put up with their local officials behaving in such a manner. The mayor was going down. Clementine’s pile of evidence against him was growing daily. This afternoon, all would be revealed.
“I’m bringing Luke and Amy to report on it. I want to video the meeting so those who can’t attend will be able to see it. The vote on my referendum is next Thursday,” Clementine said.
“I’m interviewing Mr. Fargo about shoe sales this morning, but I’ll be done in time to meet you at the VFW for the council meeting. How many people you think will show up?” Amy asked.
Jeb groaned and plopped down in his chair.
Clementine glared at him. “I thought you were on board with this?”
“It’s not that. I have a blister. And I think I’m getting a bunion.” He sat down and pulled off the high heels. He began to massage his feet.
Clementine and Amy chuckled.
“Yeah, it’s all fun and games when you’re wearing Doc Martens,” Jeb groused.
“We should advertise Fargo’s shoe store so that he’ll get a lot of business. We need to support our local businesses. If I’m mayor,” Clementine said, then stopped and amended, “When I’m elected mayo
r, I’m going to gut the Chamber of Commerce and put some smart business people in there who are not corrupt. I don’t want Fenton’s downtown to become vacant like so many other small towns. I want us to be vibrant and growing.”
“You’ll make a great mayor,” Jeb said.
Clementine smiled warmly at him. “Thank you. That’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“Does that mean you’ll massage my aching feet?”
“Nope,” Clementine said. “Just think of the pain as a character-building exercise.”
***
When Amy arrived at the shoe store, Mr. Fargo was checking off the boxes of inventory that the UPS driver was wheeling into the store with a dolly. The boxes took up the entire center aisle of the store.
The UPS guy was sweating profusely. When he finished unloading, Mr. Fargo offered him a bottle of water, which he gratefully took. “I’ll see you tomorrow with the rest,” Mr. Fargo said.
“Holy crap, that’s a lot of shoes. Are you bringing in your spring inventory?” Amy asked.
“Not yet, I won’t have room until after the march. You have to thank Clementine for drumming up so much business. I haven’t sold shoes like this in a long time.”
“Really? You’re selling a lot of red, high-heeled shoes?” Amy asked, peering into the first box Mr. Fargo opened. It was full of all different kinds of red shoes.
“And this doesn’t count the special orders,” Mr. Fargo said, pulling out the biggest high-heeled shoe Amy had ever seen. “This is a size 15. I’ve got some up to size 22. They’re hard to find, but thank goodness for female impersonators.”
“You have special orders, too?”
“Some of the gentlemen were quite specific in their requests. Mr. Sinclair ordered a pair of very expensive Jimmy Choos.”
“He does know how much they cost?”
“I told him. But he only wants the best if he’s marching through downtown. As he told me, he has a certain image to maintain.”
“I had no idea,” Amy said. “Jeb offered to give you free ad space in the paper so that the men will know where to purchase their shoes.”
Mr. Fargo beamed. “How are Jeb’s shoes working out?”
“He’s practicing walking around the office, but he’s taken a few falls and he thinks he’s getting a bunion.”
Mr. Fargo walked behind the counter and pulled a package of Dr. Scholl’s moleskin patches off the wall. “Tell him to use these and to soak his feet in Epsom salts. That’ll help.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Can I interest you in a pair of heels?”
“Oh no, not me,” Amy said. “I’m a lesbian. We only wear comfortable shoes.”
***
Parker was replacing the kitchen countertop in Mrs. March’s kitchen. Her husband had purchased a bass fishing boat. He’d gone with his fishing buddies on a trip to Flathead Lake in Montana. While he was gone, Mrs. March was having her kitchen remodeled in passive-aggressive retaliation. Parker had eleven days to finish the job before Mr. March returned from his fishing trip.
Parker’s cell phone rang and she knew it was Rosa because her ringtone was I Shot the Sheriff.
“Let me guess. Susan didn’t tell Tess,” Parker answered, before Rosa had a chance to say a word.
“You got it. Can you believe it?”
“Yes, I can. It’s normal human behavior to avoid painful situations,” Parker said. She studied the splashboard samples Mrs. March had supplied. Parker didn’t like any of them. She’d bring more samples of her own choosing and see if she could convince Mrs. March to make another choice.
“What are we going to do? Clementine and cronies are meeting at the VFW with the city council meeting. You know how the ladies talk. Susan and Carrie will be the main topic of conversation.”
“There’s not much we can do other than swear them all to secrecy,” Parker said.
“Oh, I’m sure that will work,” Rosa said.
Parker could tell by her tone of voice that Rosa was freaking. “Amy is covering the VFW meeting. Maybe she can get them to not gossip. For once.”
“That will only incite them,” Rosa said. “You know how they love secrets.”
Parker didn’t respond. Rosa was correct. “What’s Tess doing today? More importantly, where is she doing it?”
“At her office. She’s got two little girls to place now. Social Services vets foster parents more thoroughly now because of the rising…” Rosa stopped.
“Molestation incidents by male members of the family,” Parker finished for her.
“You got it. Sometimes, I have a really hard time with men. How can they be so mean and hurtful to women and little girls? No matter how long I work for the police department, I never get over it. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
“There are still a lot of good men out there. Except for the mayor. I have faith Clementine will bring him down,” Parker said.
Mrs. March came into the kitchen. She put her hands on her narrow hips and looked around with a discerning eye for detail.
“I have to go. My suggestion is to tell Susan to get on the ball if she wants to save her relationship.”
***
Amy and Luke were still hyped up from the city council meeting as they walked into the office. Luke was wearing a bright yellow sundress and flip-flops.
“How’d it go?” Jeb asked, as he walked around the newspaper office in his red heels. He was getting better. That is to say he wasn’t falling anymore. Now he had progressed to walking like a surly John Wayne.
Luke smiled at his father and said, “Nice shoes, Dad. Can I borrow them sometime?”
“No way,” Jeb said. “I just got these broken in.”
“I recorded the meeting,” Luke said. “You gotta see this.” He sat down in front of his computer and quickly downloaded the video. “I’m going to put it on YouTube. Mom and all her supporters are getting an Internet reputation for their grassroots political action. We’ve got people from all over the world leaving comments. I’m setting up a donation platform for her campaign so people who watch the video can contribute.”
Jeb patted his son on the back and then leaned over to watch the video. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“I’m hoping she’ll let me be her campaign manager,” Luke said.
“I’d say you’d make a good one. You can bring in the male contingent,” Amy said. She thought back to the meeting. Clementine had been stunning. It was the mayor’s online porn activity that had sent the city council over the edge. They voted him out. He had protested and it didn’t go well.
“What are they throwing at him this time?” Jeb asked.
“Rotten vegetables. Very Shakespearean,” Amy said.
“Bernie’s got a friend who runs a produce company. Her friend, Wanda, even trucked it over here from Scofield. How’s that for solidarity?” Luke said. “Women rock.”
In the tape, there was a lot of yelling from the audience after Clementine made her speech and the mayor tried to take control by pounding his fist on the podium and yelling back. Rotten fruit was hurled at him. It literally looked like it was hailing rotten vegetables and fruit. The mayor stood his ground until there wasn’t a clean space on him.
“Damn,” Jeb said. “You gotta hand it to the guy. He’s really stubborn.”
“Or really stupid,” Amy said.
“There is that,” Jeb said.
***
Susan was doing her rounds at Brookside. She liked being busy and challenged. It kept her from thinking too hard about other things. Unfortunately, today her mind refused to be sidetracked from her problem with telling Tess the truth.
Was it still possible she could remedy the situation? Could she call her and say, “We need to talk and no matter what, I love you. I want you to remember that. But don’t worry, I don’t want to break up. I want to spend my life with you, but I did this thing when I wasn’t thinking clearly. It doesn’t mean anything.”
&n
bsp; Funny how it didn’t mean anything when she did it, but now, not mentioning it meant something.
Mrs. Branson, the director of Brookside, came up alongside Susan as she stood in Josie Forrester’s room looking out at the garden. The hydrangeas were on the cusp of blooming. Susan loved the enormous flowers. Josie was sleeping peacefully after Susan had talked to her and read the “story of before” as Josie called it. The before had been written down in a series of notebooks. It was Josie’s life before she got Alzheimer’s. Most times it read like a novel to Josie who would exclaim in delight, “That same thing happened to me.”
“What part did you read today?” Mrs. Branson asked.
“The story of how she fell in love with her husband,” Susan said.
“I like that one,” Mrs. Branson said.
“I’m so glad Josie saw that notebook movie and thought to do it before she lost all her memories,” Susan said.
“She was a writer, you know. I’ve often tried to get family members to do this or to encourage the ones that are in the early stages where they remember things, but writing is a skill and most don’t have it. At best, I get them to write a little story that goes with a photograph.”
“I’ve enjoyed reading the notebooks to her,” Susan said. She’d always liked Josie. When she had a slow day, she’d often stop by and read to her. Susan wondered who enjoyed the stories more—she or Josie.
“One of my regrets is not having the grand love affair like Josie and her husband,” Mrs. Branson said, looking wistful. “I know she didn’t get to have him for all that long, but what she had was exquisite. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my husband, but he wasn’t much more than an ordinary man. Our love was ordinary. I think of Josie living with her husband in the French countryside—him painting and her writing. It sounded so wonderful.”
“I hope to have that kind of extraordinary love with Tess.”
Mrs. Branson patted her arm. “I think you do. But you have to let Carrie go first.”
Susan whirled and looked at her. “You too?”
Change of Heart (The True Heart Series Book 3) Page 17