by Karis Walsh
“Thank you,” Cara said quietly. “I was a little antagonistic when I talked to you about the puppy walkers the first day we met, but I’ve learned a lot about the job since then. I’ll be sad to say good-bye to him, but every step of the way I’m thinking ahead and figuring out what he needs now in order to be a good partner in the future.”
“A little antagonistic? As I recall, I used the word belligerent when I told Des about our conversation.” She put her arm around Cara’s shoulders to let her know she was teasing. “But I’ve been impressed by the way you’ve taken responsibility for him. You’re shaping the dog he’ll become. It’s an enormous undertaking, to work so hard so someone you’ve never met will benefit from the training you’ve done. And Pickwick will be better able to bond with his person and enjoy his work because of you.”
Cara turned her head and kissed Lenae’s temple. “Thank you.”
Lenae let go of Cara as they walked off the elevator and down the hall. She had been drawn to Cara from the start, feeling a physical attraction even when she thought they were too different to ever connect on a more emotional, personal level. Tonight had been full of playful touching and laughter, but as they got closer to their rooms, she felt a stillness settle over them. She wanted Cara—had wanted her from the start—but when they were onstage singing together, she had imagined them rushing back to the hotel and falling through the door in a tangled heap onto the bed. But the quietness between them unsettled her. She had thought Cara might want her, too, but maybe she was wrong.
“We’re here,” Cara said. She supported Pickwick with one arm while she got her key card out of her back pocket and inserted it into her door’s lock. She saw Lenae about to do the same thing, but she took the card out of Lenae’s hand. “Why don’t you come visit with me for a while? I can open the doors between our rooms so Baxter can have his bed.”
Lenae followed her into the room and took off Baxter’s harness and lead. He shook himself before trotting into Lenae’s room and jumping on the bed. He turned in a circle and settled down, so Cara carried Pickwick over and laid him next to Baxter. When she got back to her room, Lenae was sitting on the edge of her bed, her expression as uncertain as Cara felt.
Cara sat beside her and framed Lenae’s face with her hands. She closed her eyes and brushed her thumbs across Lenae’s cheekbones, using her fingertips to trace the shape of her cheeks and eyebrows and forehead, as if for the first time. As if she hadn’t already memorized the contours of Lenae’s face with her eyes. The curve of Lenae’s lips was imprinted in her mind, but she slowly outlined them with her index finger as if to map the territory before she leaned forward and pressed her own lips against Lenae’s.
A mutual intake of breath, a smile of recognition. Cara felt Lenae’s responses as they mirrored her own in the gentle, almost chaste, kiss.
“I expected a tidal wave.” Cara pulled back but kept her eyes closed.
“Disappointed?” Lenae asked.
“No way,” Cara said. She struggled to explain the way the room had seemed to tilt, even though they were sitting so still. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, but I expected it to be kind of wild. Like the surface of the ocean during a storm. Not…”
“Not a deep, strong current.” Lenae finished her sentence.
“Exactly.” Cara moved forward into another kiss, this one more forceful than the last. She’d felt passion before, but nothing like this. She was floating, then sinking, barely able to catch her breath.
Lenae parted her lips and felt Cara’s tongue slide between them. For once, she was acting without worrying about direction. She had no goals for this relationship, no five-year plan. Just tonight. She pushed Cara back on the bed and leaned over her.
“Don’t move,” she said, leaving a trail of kisses along Cara’s jaw. “You’ve been able to see me, but I haven’t learned you yet. Let me touch you.”
She put her hand flat on Cara’s chest. Start with the heart of her. Not her hair, her chin, her face. But her heart, where she truly needs to be known. Lenae cupped Cara’s breast and felt her heartbeat, strong and fast. She moved her hand, wanting the friction of Cara’s silky shirt against skin to increase Cara’s arousal. She followed the edge of Cara’s shirt with her fingers, from her shoulder to the V between her breasts and back again until she felt Cara arch up toward her hand. She dropped her head and used her lips to follow the same path.
Cara arched her back even deeper, needing to be closer to Lenae. She had been touched, had felt her body respond to other women, but she had kept her form and her distinction before. Lenae unbuttoned her shirt and her hands kneaded Cara’s breasts, and Cara felt shapeless. Lenae was molding her into something new and more alive.
She heard her own gasp as Lenae circled her nipple with an almost-not-there touch, only to switch to a demanding pull with her lips. Cara pressed forward, eager to get as much of herself as she could into the warm wetness of Lenae’s mouth. She wouldn’t look, refused to open her eyes, wanting to feel what Lenae felt.
She reached for Lenae’s hips when she shifted away, but Lenae stayed just out of reach. Her fingers sifted through Cara’s hair, and Cara felt the touch from her scalp to the tips of each strand. Light pressure along her eyebrows and the bones of her face. Every indentation and curve examined and made new by Lenae’s touch. Neck, arms, waist. Cara wriggled under Lenae’s thorough exploration of her body, unable to remain still and barely able to restrain her impulse to touch back. She wanted Lenae to know her, but the intensity of Lenae’s focus was almost too much to bear. She felt as if Lenae’s fingers dipped beneath her skin when they circled and probed her navel, along the top of her thigh, between her eagerly spreading legs. She felt a moment of fear that Lenae wouldn’t like what she found under Cara’s quivering surface—or, worse, that she wouldn’t find anything beyond the soft skin and well-proportioned bone structure—but she drew confidence from Lenae’s sharp groan when her fingers slipped through Cara’s wetness.
The sound from Lenae, at once pleased and almost painful, was Cara’s cue to move. To anchor her fingers in Lenae’s hair and pull her forward for a drowning kiss. First a clashing of teeth and tongues, but softening to a barely perceptible brush of lips before exploding with force again. Waves of movement, thrusting forward and receding, over and over until Cara had to pull away, to cry out as her orgasm crashed over and through her.
Cara curled toward Lenae. Usually she’d be almost anxious to turn to her partner in bed, to get the attention off herself and onto someone else. But she basked in Lenae’s arms and let Lenae softly stroke her until the ripples of her climax eased.
Lenae marveled at the way Cara’s body had responded to her touch—the way it responded even now, in its sated state. She felt the same release, as if she had come when Cara did, but her body awakened again when Cara burrowed her face in Lenae’s neck and bit gently along the tendon from her ear to her collarbone.
She rolled on her back in response to pressure from Cara’s hands, feeling Cara’s leg nudge between her own. Cara’s hands moved from her waist to her back, forcing Lenae to arch and make room for them as they slid along her spine and then curled forward to grip her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around Cara and pulled her flush against her body, limbs intertwined until Lenae had no way of telling where her own body left off and Cara’s began. She twisted her head and kissed Cara’s fingers where they clenched her at the base of her neck.
They moved as one organism, the energy of Lenae’s growing arousal seeming to fuel Cara’s hips as they pressed Lenae more and more firmly into the mattress. With each grinding motion, Lenae felt an answering gush of liquid and the film of sweat breaking out on her body—or was it Cara’s? Or both? The friction between her thighs and the slippery joining of the rest of their skin brought Lenae to climax, all too soon. She felt her own shuddering release echo through Cara as the intensity of their connection coalesced into a soft, steady kiss from Cara’s lips against her own.
C
hapter Twenty
Lenae woke up with the feeling she was caught in a vise. She took a few moments to reorient herself, patting the bedcovers to figure out how she’d gotten trapped. Pickwick was draped over her legs, pinning her in place. The familiar bulk of Baxter stretched against her back, blocking any movement in that direction. Unfamiliar, but very welcome and enticing, was the Creamsicle scent of Cara, who was spooned in Lenae’s arms.
“Mmm. I can move my legs in bed for the first time in weeks,” Cara mumbled in a sleep-thick voice. “It feels wonderful.”
“I’m sure it does.” Lenae laughed and nibbled on Cara’s ear. “Unfortunately, I can’t move mine.”
“That’s your fault for being the dog whisperer.” Cara sighed and burrowed closer to Lenae. “Let’s just skip the filming and stay in bed all day.”
At the mention of the morning show, Lenae felt her body stiffen. Baxter raised his head and gave a small whine before resting his chin on her ribcage. “We should get these two fed and out for a walk,” Lenae said. “You need to be at the studio in just over an hour.”
“We need to be at the studio,” Cara corrected her, but Lenae had already gotten out of bed and was feeling along the wall for the adjoining door.
“I’ll take a quick shower and we’ll meet you and Pickwick in the hall.” Lenae went into her room and shut the door between them.
She leaned against the door for a moment, relieved to have some space to think, but already missing the feel of Cara’s soft warmth. At the sound of Baxter’s quiet whine, she walked easily through the room—unhindered by anyone else’s belongings—and got his breakfast ready. She got in a scalding-hot shower while he ate, hoping in vain that the heat would sear Cara’s touch from her skin. The night had been wonderful, and something Lenae had wanted for a long time. Beautiful sex, laughter, fun. But how much of the night would end this morning? How much of the union had been Cara’s way of working off nervous energy before her big show today? Lenae braced her hands against the wall of the shower and replayed Cara’s orgasm in her mind. Whatever the day brought, whatever their future together, she now had a mass of sensations and smells and movements that would always be connected with her thoughts of Cara.
*
Lenae leaned back in her chair and mustered all her willpower to keep from swatting away the mascara wand and running out the door. She’d had to put up with the hair-and-makeup crew for the weekly spot with Cara and Pickwick, but they had been fairly unobtrusive and quick. Today she felt like she was being made up by students from the local clown college. Her face felt heavy and unnatural, and she was getting more and more uneasy as the morning progressed.
Cara, meanwhile, seemed in her element. She chatted and joked with the stylists, discussing hairdos and wardrobe choices as if her very life depended on the image she portrayed on television. If Lenae hadn’t spent so much time with Cara, both on- and off-camera, she might have believed Cara’s heart and soul were tied to this morning’s show, but she knew her well enough to hear the subtle changes in her voice and inflection. Cara was already in on-camera mode. She had become someone different the moment she walked onto the set. Was this her real self or her way of coping with the appearance-oriented world? Was she retreating deeper within herself the more she projected her bubblier personality outward?
Lenae still hadn’t had a chance to process the events of last night. Events. She shook her head at her detached way of describing the consuming sex she and Cara had shared, but her stylist gripped her chin to hold her still, applying mascara without pause. Lenae hadn’t wanted to think about last night, to wonder where it left them and where they went from here, because she was too nervous about this show. Parading around with Baxter, possibly making a fool of herself. She was out of her element and not happy about it. So she had escaped from Cara’s room this morning, closing the door between them like a coward.
When she had met Cara for their walk, Cara had been too cranky to be able to talk about anything except for the expensive jeans Pickwick had shredded while Cara was in the shower. So they had spent the cab ride to the studio in strained silence, with no touch between them except for the occasional and accidental brush of hands when they both reached for the door handle at the same time. From full-body, mind-to-mind contact to an unbridgeable gulf was too much for Lenae to handle with gracefulness. She felt adrift.
Lenae felt herself mentally slipping further from the action going on around her. She’d discovered a rare, and unsettling, gift in junior high—the ability to distance herself from the conversations and actions taking place right around her. Not only did she feel separate, but she seemed to waft out of the minds of those around her as well. She had been able to hear conversations about herself and others as if everyone had forgotten she was in the room. It was the trigger for her realization that some people believed that if she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear or even understand either. As an adult, the dehumanizing effect was disturbing, but the skill came in handy at times, when she wanted to escape the world and be left alone with Baxter.
She sat very still, her hand resting on Baxter to remind herself of his unwavering companionship, and listened to the disjointed talk around her. She’d pick up threads of conversations, or follow one voice—usually Cara’s—for several sentences before moving to another. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, just to feel as if she were an aural observer instead of a participant in this crazy day.
Most of the talk centered around Cara. The people nearest her, most likely drawn to her beauty and inclusive way of speaking, were engaged with her. But Cara was also the subject of conversation for those farther away from her. Lenae only needed a few moments as a fly on the wall to learn that a position of host for the morning show would be opening up soon, and the studio grapevine had Cara pegged as favorite for the role.
*
Cara kept up her incessant chatter with the stylists and producers who drifted by her makeup station. She was irritable and confused about her night with Lenae, and the more she felt like escaping the studio, the more bright and entertaining she tried to appear. She had to hide her feelings and get through the day somehow. Make a strong pitch for Lenae’s center and show Pickwick off as the charmer he was—even though she was going to miss her best pair of jeans. Oh, and maybe, just maybe, get her parents off her case. Do the show to appease them and be done with it.
But the more time she spent at the studio, the more uneasy she felt. Half-finished sentences and thinly veiled hints made her aware of something going on below the surface of today’s show. Something more permanent than a quick promo for herself and the center. Cara looked for Lenae, needing someone to talk to, but Lenae had disappeared. She was still sitting in her chair of course, close by Cara’s, but the look in her eyes was distant and untouchable. Worse than Lenae’s shuttered expression was the way people began to move around her as if she wasn’t there. As if they were moving through her. And Lenae seemed to be encouraging the illusion.
“I see you,” Cara said, raising her voice slightly. Lenae turned her head in Cara’s direction. “Yes, you. Stop trying to hide.”
She caught Lenae’s quick smile before it was hidden again. But when they walked on to the set to do their demonstrations, Lenae bumped into Cara’s side and gave her hand a brief squeeze. The connection, minimal as it was, gave Cara the strength to get through the show with the right amount of animation. Not too falsely bright and cheery, but not nervous and hesitant. Her improving mood seemed to feed Lenae’s as well, and the banter between them as they discussed Pickwick’s wild ways made the audience laugh.
Cara enjoyed the format of the show, with its cameras and live audience, sort of a combination of her television show and teaching a class at Evergreen. She felt at ease answering questions about the puppy-walking experience and helping Lenae as she demonstrated Baxter’s guiding abilities. She had done enough on-air work to know when a segment was going to be popular and accessible, and theirs was. She should have felt a high after fi
nishing, but she didn’t. She was proud of herself for holding her own on a meticulously produced national show. She was thrilled with Lenae’s performance and with the way Baxter and Pickwick had followed their lead and hammed it up for the audience. But she felt something missing at the end of the segment.
“Great job, you two,” the host said when they finished and her stylist had come over to do some touch-ups before the next spot. Cara sat with her hand casually resting on the back of Lenae’s chair while Baxter trotted around to various audience members with his harness in his mouth. “Feel free to get some breakfast backstage, and Marty will find you seats if you want to stay and watch the rest of the show.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you,” Cara said. Lenae got to her feet and called Baxter over to her, but Cara hesitated. “I was hoping to talk to you about some of your past guests. Like the author Ron Campton. It must have been a thrill to meet him.”
“I wasn’t doing his interview, so I didn’t talk to him. Sorry.”
Even though her voice was friendly, Cara didn’t miss the note of dismissal. She wanted to stay, to chat with the audience like she did after the formal filming of her own show, when everyone let down their guard and became real. Or even like she’d talked to Lenae on their first day of filming, when they had disagreed because each felt passionately about the subject of puppy walking. She had learned something that day and now had Pickwick in her life. She had loved talking to the Baers after the cameras shut off and she had a chance to get to know each small child.
Funny. She hadn’t slipped back into her old cynical ways since the day she’d met Lenae. Maybe because she had been at the center after the show was filmed and she had seen that Lenae didn’t just put on a show of caring and devoting her life to a cause. She lived it, every moment. Cara had filmed a couple of episodes of Around the Sound since then and had actually allowed herself to believe that the kindness, the altruism people showed on film wasn’t just for the cameras, didn’t disappear once she and the crew were gone.