“Papers are due on Friday at midnight. Post them by the deadline so you don’t drop a letter grade,” Hillary instructed the students as they filed out of the room.
“You’re brilliant,” Amara told her when Hillary joined her at the back of the room.
“I think you’re biased.”
“No, I learned a lot today,” Amara disagreed. “Really.”
“Really?” Hillary lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Not about that.” Amara stood and gave Hillary her biggest eyes that told her girlfriend to stop because there were still students in the room. “About sexuality,” she added, and Hillary laughed. “No, that’s not what–” She let out a grunt. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Hillary leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s go back to my place. We can change and then head out to dinner.”
“I don’t have anything to change into. I only brought what I was going to wear to work today with me.” She glanced down at her business wardrobe.
“Why don’t we go back to my place so I can change? Then, we can drive to your place so you can change, and we can go somewhere closer to your house. I’ll just follow you in my car so I can drive home after.”
They began walking out of the classroom and down the hall, toward Hillary’s office, to grab her things.
“You don’t mind?” Amara asked. “Traffic won’t be fun this time of day. My dad might even be home by the time we get there.”
“I can wait in the car if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, that’s not–” Amara stopped herself when they arrived at Hillary’s office door. “I don’t want you to wait in the car.”
“Then, I won’t.” Hillary grabbed her bag off the floor next to her desk.
Amara could only stare at the chair she’d been ravaged in earlier. When Hillary noticed where she’d focused her attention, she let out a soft laugh. Amara met her eyes and found that they were filled with desire again. Amara’s body had been made deliciously sore several times over. One moment, she felt like she couldn’t possibly stand another orgasm. The next, Hillary was looking at her with those eyes, and Amara had no idea how she’d made it another minute without touching her girlfriend. What was that?
They made their way back to Hillary’s. Amara stayed in the living room while Hillary changed, to avoid the possibility of them falling back into bed again. She wasn’t sure about Hillary, but she didn’t think her body, so new to sex, could handle another round so soon after the last one.
After Hillary had changed, they drove separately. Amara wished Hillary was in the car with her, though. Every second of the long, bumper to bumper drive out of the city created more and more worry about where this thing between them could go. Would she ever be able to tell her father? If not, how could they possibly have a relationship? Her father was the only constant in her life. If she never told him about Hillary, and their relationship progressed, how would that work? Surely, he’d get suspicious if they ever moved in together.
“We’d have to get a two-bedroom,” Amara said out loud to herself as she stopped at a red light.
They’d put some stuff in a guest room to make it look like one of them slept there instead of a bedroom they’d share. Would she have to go on a date with a guy a few times a year just to keep her dad from getting suspicious? No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that to the fictitious guys. She couldn’t do that to Hillary. Of course, this was all hypothetical. They’d had one night together, a few dates, and over a year of staring at one another longingly without doing anything about it. They were officially a couple now. She liked that. It meant they were going somewhere. Things could still change, though. Hillary could grow bored with her. Amara was boring. She went to work, had dinner with her father most nights, and spent a lot of time in church or volunteering. That was it up until recently.
She didn’t have friends like Hillary. She didn’t hang out with people in bars or in cafés. She’d gone to a local adult arcade a while ago with someone from school, and that had been fun, but they hadn’t invited her out again. Maybe she hadn’t been entertaining enough or hadn’t fit into their group. She bit her lower lip so hard, she nearly drew blood. Hillary would grow tired of her. It was only a matter of time.
The sound of the phone ringing through her car speakers interrupted Amara’s thoughts. It always connected via Bluetooth whenever she got in. She’d completely forgotten about her phone all day, including the call she was supposed to make to her father. She glanced at the screen that showed Hillary was calling her. She clicked the button to answer.
“Everything okay? Did I lose you?” she checked.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“What?”
“I’m on your left,” Hillary said.
Amara turned her head to see Hillary was even with her in the other lane.
“Oh, hi.”
“Hi. Are you okay?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You look concerned about something.” Hillary gave her a kind expression.
“Just tired.”
“Amara, you don’t have to lie to me. If you need to talk about everything, we will.”
“Just not while we’re stuck in traffic?” She smiled at Hillary and knew it was awkwardly.
“Why don’t we stay on the phone while we drive? Just talk about anything. We can talk about whatever’s bothering you at dinner.”
Amara heard the horn before she could respond. The light had turned green. She turned to pay attention to the road and made it through the intersection. She noticed Hillary stayed next to her for a few moments before she slid her car in behind her to follow her the rest of the way home.
“I’m sorry,” Amara half-whispered.
“For what?” Hillary asked.
“I’m a mess.”
“No, you’re not. A lot has happened today; we just need to talk about it.” The woman paused. “How about you tell me something about you that I don’t already know while we drive?”
They talked on the phone for the remainder of the trip. Amara pulled her car into the driveway. Hillary parked on the street. Amara disconnected the call and half-considered Hillary’s offer to wait in her car but decided she couldn’t let her girlfriend wait outside just because she was nervous her dad might ask some questions.
“Hey, sweetie,” her father greeted. “I was worried about you.” He approached and kissed her cheek.
“Dad, what are you doing out here?”
“The pool guy forgot to lock the shed.” He pointed to the cabinet he called a shed that stood outside the pool house where the pool guy stored equipment and chemicals for his weekly cleaning. “You were supposed to call.”
“I know. Sorry, I fell back to sleep and forgot.” She cringed as she lied to her father for the second time that day.
“How are you feeling?” He placed a gentle hand across her forehead to check her temperature. “Do you have a fever?”
“No, I’m okay now. I think it was just a twelve-hour bug.”
“Hi,” Hillary said from behind her.
Amara turned around to greet her. By Hillary’s reaction, she guessed her own eyes had nearly bugged out of her head at Hillary meeting her father, when she hadn’t prepared either of them for it.
“Hello,” he greeted Hillary and turned to face her. “Are you the friend Amara stayed with last night?”
“I am. Hillary,” the woman introduced herself, took a few steps toward him, and held out her hand for him to shake. “She woke up and didn’t feel well. I thought it better that she just sleep it off at my place instead of going to work or making the drive home.”
“Nice to meet you. Thank you for making sure she took care of herself.”
“I think she does a pretty good job of that all on her own.”
Her father shook Hillary’s hand and gave her a quizzical glance.
“We were only stopping by. I’m changing, and we’re going to di
nner,” Amara explained to him.
“You’re wearing your work clothes,” he replied.
“I didn’t plan on staying over last night, Dad. I only had these.”
“Why don’t you two just stay here for dinner? I’ve got one of those store-bought lasagnas in the oven. I’ll make garlic bread.”
“We can’t, Dad.” Amara started walking toward the pool house and motioned for Hillary to join her with her head. “We’re meeting a couple more of Hillary’s friends.” That was her third lie.
“Where did you two meet?” he prodded.
“Amara, you can go get changed. I’ll chat with your dad until you’re ready,” Hillary suggested.
“That’s okay. I’m sure he should go check on dinner or something, right?” She glared at her father.
It took the man a second, but then it dawned on him.
“Right. Parents cramp their kid’s style.” He held up both hands in defense. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“We met at a coffee shop. Well, technically, we saw each other there first. We met officially at school,” Hillary said.
“School?”
“I’m a professor there,” she continued.
Amara’s eyes widened in concern. Had they gotten their wires crossed? Had they decided to tell their story to her father, and she’d blacked out the discussion? Certainly, Hillary wouldn’t be about to tell her father that they were together, that they’d spent so long staring at one another only to have run into each other in a few different places, which had finally forced them to talk, because it just didn’t make sense that they’d keep seeing one another if it wasn’t meant for them to know one another.
“Professor? Business class?”
“No, I teach different courses each semester, but my main focus is on women’s studies and human sexuality,” Hillary explained.
Amara gulped and stared at her father, who appeared to be taking in what Hillary had just said.
“Well, those are interesting topics,” he finally said.
“I think so,” Hillary replied. “Anyway, I’d seen her at a café I frequent. I didn’t talk to her there, but then she turned up on campus. We ran into one another and got to talking.”
“Funny how that happens sometimes: you live in this big city and run into the same people repeatedly.” He chuckled.
“Dad, we have to go,” Amara interrupted. “I don’t want your friends to wait for us.” She turned her eyes to her girlfriend.
“Right,” Hillary lied for her.
“Friends from the college?”
“No, they’re my friends from way back. Keira’s the most sought-after event planner in the city. Macon is one of the world’s most popular and talented violinists.”
“Macon? Macon Greene?”
“You know her?” Hillary asked, surprised.
“I have season tickets to the symphony. I’ve seen her perform many times. She’s very talented.”
“She is. She’s one of my best friends.”
“Wow.” He turned to his daughter. “You’ve got yourself a keeper there, Amara.”
Amara’s face likely matched her hair. Her father hadn’t meant it like that, but she wished he had. She wanted him to like Hillary, but not because she was her friend. She wanted him to like Hillary because they were together; because she liked Hillary. Actually, because she loved her. She gulped as Hillary smiled at her. Those kind, brown eyes, that grew dark when she was turned on, stared back at her. Her brunette hair fell at her shoulders. Amara had liked it when it was shorter, but the longer hair also suited Hillary. It gave Amara more to pull on, too, when the woman knelt between her legs. Oh, God! She was thinking about sex with her girlfriend while her father was standing there between them.
“She’s great. Hill, can we go?” she deflected, took Hillary’s hand, and ushered her toward the pool house. “Enjoy the lasagna,” she told her father from behind her shoulder.
“What time will you be home?” he asked loudly.
“Dad!” she yelled.
“Sorry. You’re an adult; I know,” he replied.
Amara didn’t hear anything else, though, because she’d pulled Hillary inside the pool house and closed the door behind them.
CHAPTER 22
“I bet you didn’t expect that,” Hillary said as Amara rushed toward the bedroom of the small pool house.
“No, I didn’t,” Amara replied without turning around.
“Did I make you upset? I didn’t know he was there when I walked up… I didn’t know what to do.”
Hillary was standing in the living room of the open space. She took in the kitchen and the door leading to the bedroom Amara had disappeared into, but she didn’t follow her into it, in the event she needed some space or time to herself.
“You didn’t make me upset.” Amara returned to the doorway and stood in it. “He did. You can come in. I’m sorry, I’m a terrible tour guide. No one comes back here.” The woman smiled a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.
“No one?” Hillary lifted an eyebrow. “Not even the ex?”
“Mark?” Amara laughed lightly. This time, the smile did meet her eyes. “Please come in here.” She held out her hand. “I’m sorry. My dad just drives me nuts, sometimes.”
Hillary moved to her, placed her hands on Amara’s waist, and watched her girlfriend pull back out of her grasp. The woman then moved to stand in the middle of the bedroom, by her bed, and reached for Hillary again. Hillary realized that with the windows facing the main house, Amara had moved into the bedroom just in case her father happened to glance inside. He would have been able to see them in the doorway.
“You really should get some curtains out there.”
Hillary wrapped her arms around Amara’s waist again and pulled her into herself. Amara’s arms went around her neck, and they embraced.
“I never needed them before,” Amara whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Hillary whispered back. “Let’s get you changed. We’ll go to dinner, talk if you want to, and I’ll drop you off back here later, Cinderella.” She pulled back and smiled at her girlfriend.
Amara smiled, too, gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, and moved toward the dresser to pull out something to change into for dinner.
“Have a seat. I’ll only be a minute,” Amara instructed.
Hillary sat on the side of the bed before she lifted her legs and stretched them. When the woman bent to pull something out of a lower drawer, Hillary enjoyed the view: Amara still had no underwear on. Her skirt wasn’t all that long, and when she bent over like that, it left little to the imagination.
“Can we just stay right here all night instead?” Hillary suggested.
“What? Why?” Amara stood upright and turned to her. She must have caught onto Hillary’s expression. “Oh! No, we can’t do that here. My dad could–”
“Amara, relax. I’m kidding.” Hillary laughed. “Hey, can I borrow your laptop for a sec?” She nodded toward the computer resting on the other side of the bed. “I want to check and see if we need a reservation to this place. I left my phone in the car.”
“Sure,” Amara replied, moving toward the bathroom to change.
“Babe?”
“Yeah.” Amara stopped and turned to her.
“You can change out here. I’ve seen you naked.” Hillary chuckled.
“Right.” The woman tossed her clothes on the bed.
Hillary reached for the computer. She opened it and placed it in her lap. Amara stopped long enough to enter her password. What then greeted Hillary on the screen was surprising.
“Oh! Wow,” Hillary exclaimed.
The sound was on, and while not loud, it was loud enough for them to hear the moans of the two women acting out something with one another that Amara and Hillary had done earlier that morning.
“Oh, my God!” Amara rushed over and slammed the computer closed. “Oh, my God! I forgot.” Her face was bright red. One hand was covering her
mouth while the other was over her heart. “I don’t… I don’t know what to…”
Hillary wanted to laugh. She really wanted to laugh. Amara was ridiculously adorable in this moment. Her hair had been pulled up earlier but had fallen slightly around her face. The woman seemed to be wearing it down more and more recently. Hillary loved it. She also loved the bright green of her eyes, and how embarrassed she was right now for doing something that nearly everyone did at some point in their life. Hillary wanted to laugh, but she didn’t want to embarrass Amara any further. So, instead, she moved the laptop to the other side of the bed, stood, wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, and pushed her toward the bathroom.
“Does your dad ever come into your bathroom?”
“What?” Amara asked as Hillary pushed her toward the sink and pressed her back against it. “No, he doesn’t come in here.”
“Were you watching that when I called last night?” Hillary asked, pressing her hands into the cool countertop behind Amara.
“Before,” she replied with slight hesitation and in the softest of voices. “I sometimes…”
“Get yourself off to it?” Hillary leaned in and pressed her lips to the soft skin of Amara’s neck.
“Yes,” she whispered out.
“And you’re embarrassed because of it?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m a weirdo.”
Hillary pulled back and took her in.
“I think you’re sexy as hell.” She kissed Amara’s lips gently. “I think you’re adorable.” She kissed the woman again. “I think you’re smart, funny, kind; and I’m crazy about you. I have no problem with you watching porn. I definitely don’t have a problem with you getting yourself off to it. Hell, I’ll even watch it with you, and we can take care of each other.”
“You want that?” Amara’s eyebrow lifted.
“I want you,” Hillary replied. She lifted Amara’s skirt and slid her hand between her girlfriend’s legs. “Now.”
◆◆◆
“I can’t believe I just let you do that to me in there,” Amara commented the moment they arrived at Amara’s car to leave for dinner.
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