Closing her eyes, Ryan ran her hands all over her partner’s body, her mouth quirked into a teasing smile. Concentrating hard she decreed, "I’d say seven pounds. And I think you should keep every one of them. I love a woman with curves."
Stepping into the shower, Jamie scoffed, "You say that now, but you’ll change your tune if I stay on this path."
"No I won’t," Ryan said, blinking her eyes slowly. "I want you to feel good about your body, and I want you to be the weight that feels most natural for you. That’s all that’s important to me."
The warm spray of the shower was beating down on her back, and Jamie maneuvered her partner so that the brunt of the pounding fell onto her. She took a soft cloth and proceeded to wash the long body, methodically working down the muscular form. Her face bore a look of deep concentration and Ryan knew that something was on her mind, but she decided to let her voice the issue when she was ready.
The shower was almost over when Jamie finally asked, "Are you sure you’re okay with me putting on a few pounds?"
Bending to kiss her wet lips Ryan assured her, "A few or many—makes no difference to me. I like you to stay fit and active, but that’s not even for your look—that’s just to keep you healthy."
"So you’re not more turned on by a thinner body?" she asked.
"Nope. I’m turned on by self-confidence and self-acceptance. If you feel good and sexy in your body, that comes across really clearly. It’s that energy that pulls me in."
Shooting her partner a guilty look, Jamie turned off the shower and handed Ryan a towel. "Now I feel all shallow," she pouted. "I want you to put on some weight mostly because I like your curves better when you weigh more."
Shrugging her shoulders, Ryan said, "So? That doesn’t make you shallow. That makes you—you. You need a certain kind of visual stimulation to turn you on. Why have judgments about what you need?" She was puzzled by Jamie’s feelings of guilt about her needs, and her expression showed it.
Wrapping her arms around Ryan’s damp waist, Jamie filled her lungs with the fresh, clean scent of her body. She looked up into her eyes and asked, "Can I be you when I grow up?"
"Ha! Like you’re ever going to grow up!" Ryan laughed as she slapped her hard on the butt.
Ryan was dressed and ready, lying on their neatly made bed, hands laced behind her head as she watched her partner dawdle. Grinning at her childlike antics, Ryan teased, "You used to tell me that you loved mornings. What happened?"
"You happened," she moaned. "I had no idea how wonderful it would feel to sleep with you. I just can’t bear to let you out of bed in the morning. You’re so warm and cuddly and soft." She sighed deeply as she smiled over at her partner. "When I used to go to bed at nine, I was asleep by 9:15. Somehow that no longer happens."
"Hey, don’t blame me for that. You’re the one who can’t keep her hands to herself," Ryan reminded her. "If it was up to me, we’d make love in the afternoon and sleep at night. You know my prime time is three o’clock," she reminded her.
A hurt look crossed Jamie’s formerly sunny features as she said, "Don’t you like making love before we sleep?"
Hopping to her feet, Ryan crossed the room and pulled Jamie into a hug. "Did that hurt your feelings?" The barely perceptible nod caused her to reply, "I need your touch like I need air, Baby. I’m just worried about you dragging through the whole term. You’ve got a very difficult schedule, and I want to make sure you’re rested."
"But what can we do?" Jamie moaned. "I start kissing you goodnight and before I know it, we’re…involved."
"I’m not sure what we can do, but if you don’t get eight hours a night you’re not going to be a happy girl. You’ve got a lot of class hours this term, and since the subject matter is not scintillating you really need to be awake."
"Since we have to get up at six, I should be fine if we are asleep by ten. Could we try to accomplish that?"
"Yes, we can," Ryan said. "It won’t be easy performing under the clock, but I can do it!"
"Okay, Speedy, go read me your schedule," she said, patting her lover's butt.
Moving to the desk, Ryan grabbed the little schedule that she had printed off on heavy card stock. "Okay, I have class from eight until ten on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Then I have a break until one, then I have two more classes. That’ll keep me busy until three. Then practice from four until six. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have an eight o’clock class, then a seminar at ten. I’ll probably spend a few hours on those days working on getting ready for that national math competition, and then I’ll need to spend a couple of hours in the weight room, and then of course, practice from four until six. I’ll run home for dinner, and then study from seven to nine, at which time I’ll make love to you for an hour and then collapse." She added a goofy grin to punctuate the statement, but Jamie knew the semester was going to be very difficult for her.
"You’re going to be swamped this term, Baby. Is it really wise to stretch yourself so much?"
"Well, no," Ryan said thoughtfully, "but I’m in a bind. I want to do that independent study next term, and I have to brush up on both physics and economics to give myself a firm footing. I really want to compete in this math competition because I’ve never taken the time to do it before, and it looks bad if I don’t take a stab at it."
"What’s it called again, Honey?"
"It’s the William Lowell Putnam Mathematical Competition," she said, drawing out the name. "It’s a pretty big deal. There are usually at least 2,500 people who take the test."
"It’s how many questions?"
"Just a dozen," Ryan informed her. "You get ten points for each correct answer. The problem is that the questions can be on any mathematical topic. You’ve got to be pretty sharp in all of the elements."
"Twelve questions," Jamie said slowly, shaking her head. "How could so few questions eliminate anyone," she wondered. "Don’t most people get 120?"
Ryan chuckled and said, "Um…the questions aren’t ‘what’s two plus two’. They’re hard." She crinkled up her nose as she said this, and stuck her tongue out at her partner.
Patting her side, Jamie acknowledged that fact. "I understand that, Silly. Still…I can’t imagine that a lot of people don’t get a perfect score."
"Um, Jamie, last year only five percent got more than 43. Only ten percent scored better than the median. It’s really hard."
Returning her grin, Jamie cocked her head and asked, "Are you sure those were math majors? Maybe they got mixed up and sent the test to a bunch of English majors."
"Nope," Ryan chuckled. "I think the right people got the test. Speaking of English majors, though, you’re gonna have to brush up on some math concepts to get through your term, too."
"That implies that I have concepts to brush up, Ryan," she said, looking worried. "I’m afraid that taking these business courses is going to shoot my GPA to hell."
"Not to worry," Ryan assured her. "I’ll help you get through it. The math that you need to know is really very simple."
"Yeah, for you," Jamie scoffed. "For me?" She rolled her eyes dramatically, drawing a sympathetic smile from her lover.
"No worries, guaranteed," Ryan decreed. "Now get your sweet little butt in gear or you’ll be late for practice."
"I wish my golf practice wasn’t first thing in the morning. I’m not going to have my nice normal wake-up routine."
"Maybe Scott will change it when he sees what a bear you are," Ryan teased, knowing that her partner would put on a good face even if she wasn’t feeling peppy.
"Grrrrrrrr," Jamie growled, narrowing her eyes as she chased Ryan down the stairs to scare up a little breakfast.
Tuesday evening just as Jamie was getting out of her car Ryan rode up on her mountain bike. "Hey, Honey," she said happily.
"My head is throbbing!" the blonde woman moaned. "I had no idea how little I knew about business until today!" She was struggling with her packages and books, so Ryan dropped her gym bag from its secure place on her back and
eased her bike down to the ground.
"Let me help you with that," she offered, and Jamie gratefully handed her two grocery bags. "What’s in here?" she asked, poking her head in.
"Just dinner for tonight and some snacks and some lunch for you."
"Only two bags?" she teased. "Where’s the rest?"
"There’s plenty, Sweetheart. I won’t let you go hungry."
Jamie went upstairs to change while Ryan put the groceries away. Mia came in just as she was finishing and asked, "Hey, what’s for dinner?" She walked over to Ryan and gave her a kiss on the lips while she tried to figure out if there was enough for her.
Ryan tousled her curly locks as she asked, "Are you our dependent? I haven’t seen you make a meal yet."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Mia threw her head back and giggled. "That’s a laugh! I’m the last person you would trust near a stove." She jumped up on the counter and looked at Ryan for a moment, their eyes close to level from her perch. "Do you mind when I eat with you guys?"
Ryan came to stand between Mia’s spread legs, then leaned over just enough to be able to give her a warm hug, as she assured her, "I love having you eat with us. It feels more like home to me."
Jamie interrupted the scene from where she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Hey, get your own girl," she warned her curly-haired friend.
Ryan turned around to face her partner but stayed right between Mia’s legs. The smaller woman laced her hands loosely around Ryan’s neck and bent over to peek at Jamie from over the broad expanse of shoulder. "If I can’t have this one, I don’t want one at all," she pouted. "You called dibs on the best girl in town."
"Now there’s no need to fight, girls," Ryan said amiably. "There’s plenty of me to go around."
"There won’t be if you try to share your luscious body with anyone else," Jamie warned. "You are the exclusive property of Jamie Evans, a sole proprietorship. And I stress the ‘sole’."
Ryan left her haven and wrapped her arms around Jamie, pulling her close for a soft kiss. "I love being your property." She released her hold and instructed, "Now you two go sit down. I’ll make dinner."
"Really?" Jamie asked. "Don’t you want me to help?"
"Nope. I sat around too much today. I need to do something creative." Casting an appraising look at her companions she mused, "I bet you could both use a cold beer. Why don’t you both sit at the table and relax for a while?"
"You’re the best," Jamie said as she gave her another kiss.
Mia hopped down and added a kiss of her own. "You are the best, Ryan. And you’re such an improvement over Cassie!"
"Gee thanks," Ryan said weakly. "That’s scant praise!"
Taking a chair at the kitchen table, Mia sipped the beer Ryan handed her and said, "Ooh, Jamie, I forgot to tell you. I’ve got news."
"Spill it," Jamie demanded, knowing that Mia always had a firm hold on the latest gossip.
"I saw the aforementioned ex-roommate today. She was with a different guy, and they looked like they were ‘together.’ I wonder if Chris got sick of her sorry butt."
"How could he not?" Jamie shivered. "Actually, even though every word that came out of her mouth was probably a lie, she did mention that they were breaking up when she came here this summer to torment me. Did you talk to her?"
"I would have, but she looked right through me. We were at the bookstore and she acted like I didn't exist!"
"Her impeccable manners are obviously still in place," Jamie observed. "I wonder where she’s living this year?"
"Ask your mom. She still hangs with Cassie’s mom, doesn’t she?"
"Yeah, I guess so, but I don’t think they’re as close as they used to be. My mom doesn’t really talk about her much anymore."
Ryan walked over to the twosome and took a pull from Jamie’s beer. She squeezed her shoulder and said, "I’d be happy if that sour little face never darkened our door again."
"You didn’t like her from the start, did you, Ryan?" Mia asked.
"No. I really didn’t, and I don’t say that about many people. I can usually find something to like about anyone, but I disliked Cassie from the day that I met her. And when she started giving Jamie a hard time…" She made an exaggerated display of smacking her open palm with her fist. "Lights out!"
"My hero," Jamie sighed as she wrapped her arm around Ryan’s hips.
Over dinner they all shared news of their day. The consensus was that Jamie had the toughest schedule since she had to keep Monday and Friday free to travel to golf matches. With practice every morning from seven to nine, and a class schedule that was without a significant break from ten until four thirty on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, she was really going to be swamped. Her classes were no day at the beach either. Since she had decided to concentrate on managing her own money, she was taking Introduction to Financial Accounting, Federal Income Tax I, Money and Capital Markets, and Introduction to Real Estate and Urban Land Economics. Just to keep her sanity, she added a course that she was looking forward to—Literature and Sexual Identity. On top of her classes she still had to make time for therapy, which she moved to five o’clock on Monday and Wednesday, barely leaving her room to breathe in the middle of the week.
Mia’s recitation of her schedule had her roommates shaking their heads and laughing. "I hate taking upper division courses," she grumbled. "The classes get smaller and smaller! I had to really scramble to get into the big ones. I’ve got one with 105 people, one with 60, and one with 50. I long for the days of those huge survey courses," she said wistfully.
"Um, Mia?" Ryan asked. "Do your courses have names, or do they only tell you how many people are in them?"
"Oh, they have names," she said, shaking her head. "Some nonsense about examining cultures in time and space—blah, blah, blah. I swear the professors must have competitions for the most meaningless course descriptions." She brightened appreciably when she announced, "I do have one cool course, though. It’s got 435 people in it!"
"What’s that?" Ryan asked.
"It’s in the music department, and it looks like we just sit around and listen to music. I can’t understand why we get credit for that, but hey, if they’re dumb enough to offer it, I’m dumb enough to take it!"
Ryan didn’t understand her friend’s focus on class size, and she asked, "What’s up with wanting the big classes? More people to copy from?"
"Ha-ha," she sniffed. "I don’t copy, Ryan. You never know if the person you’re copying from hasn’t paid less attention than you have. I’ll take my chances with my own shoddy study habits, thank you very much!"
"So…?"
"Isn’t it obvious?" she asked. "The more people, the more you can slither down in your seat and disappear. If there’s more than fifty people, the odds of being noticed are very, very small," she pointed out.
"You know, Mia, I don’t think this was what the founders of the University of California had in mind when they established this institution," Ryan observed.
"Oh, so what are you taking, Smarty Pants? What’s your major anyway? P.E.?"
Ryan was a bit surprised that Jamie had not talked about her major. "No," she replied with a smile. "I’m double majoring in molecular and cell biology and math."
Mia scrunched up her face in puzzlement and asked, "Why?"
"’Cause I like it," Ryan replied, thinking the answer was obvious.
"What kind of courses do you take? I’ve never known a biology major."
"Well, I’ve actually finished my requirements for bio. Now I’m concentrating on math."
"You should take this cool music thing with me!" Mia said brightly, thinking that it would be fun to goof around with Ryan during class.
"Don’t think I can manage it, pal. I want to do an independent study next term, and my advisor has talked me into branching out a little from straight math."
"What’s your independent study gonna be on? The theory of why volleyballs bounce?"
"Nooo," Ryan replied
patiently, not offended in the least by Mia’s teasing. "I’m not sure this will stick, but right now I’m thinking about studying stock market fluctuations." She cocked her head and asked, "Are you sure you want to hear about this?"
"Of course," she said. "I’m all ears."
"Okay," Ryan said as she continued. "I don’t know if you know much about linear systems, but the two polar models are the random-walk model and the harmonic model. A model in between the two is color chaos, which produces irregular oscillations with a narrow frequency band."
She looked up to see that Jamie’s eyes had glazed over, but that Mia was staring at her intently. "Go on," the curly-haired woman urged. "This sounds fascinating so far, Ryan. I didn’t know that was something that interested you so much. That was color chaos right?" she asked with a focused expression.
Jamie’s mouth nearly hit the table. "Do you know what she’s talking about?"
"Not a clue," Mia said. "But I’ve been dating men since I was fourteen, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to look interested when they bore you to death." She smiled over at Ryan and patted her hand. "Not to imply that you’re boring me, of course."
"Of course," Ryan gamely replied, deciding to keep the rest of her topic to herself. "Never crossed my mind."
After they had finished eating, Ryan gave Mia a lesson in how to clean a kitchen properly. The smaller woman watched attentively and performed each of her assigned tasks, but when they were finished she said, "Okay, I think I understand how to do this. But why bother? Maria Los cleans because she likes to."
"I’m sure cleaning up our filth is what gives her life meaning," Ryan said with a smirk. "But henceforth, the price of a meal is to clean the kitchen. Just because she’s hired to clean doesn’t mean we should go out of our way to make the place dirty!"
Mia nodded at her, following Ryan with her eyes as she grabbed her book bag and went upstairs to study. As soon as Ryan was out of the room Mia commented, "I can never tell if she’s kidding or not. Does she really think it makes sense to clean up when you have someone to do it for you?"
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