Breathe [Running to Love 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) (2 page)

“Well, let’s get to it then. Micki will be back from class pretty soon, and we’re going to need some time to work on your look.” Rowan stood up from the bench, and found herself looming over Jackie, the Mutt to her Jeff.

“Don’t slouch for God’s sake, Shakespeare,” the other girl said crossly. “You’re tall, so embrace it. Lots of guys like tall and skinny. Look like you mean something.”

Rowan had heard the hint of affection in Jackie’s voice that day, and maybe something else. Something that sounded a bit like envy. Their relationship had evolved over time, although Micki had moved on. Rowan and Jackie honed and cherished their friendship, and Jackie knew more about Rowan’s sexual interests and tastes than anyone else, just as Rowan soon figured out where Jackie was coming from. Jackie was bisexual and highly anxious about it, and Rowan’s absolute tolerance cemented their connection.

They had headed for Jackie’s apartment, the one she shared with Micki, and Rowan marveled at the state of disarray. Jackie moved around the main living area, casually scooping up armfuls of clothing that she carried to one of the bedrooms and hurled inside. Some dishes and empty takeout containers met the same fate, only coming to rest in the sink of the little kitchen just off of the living room, and once a few papers and books were shuffled and stacked on the coffee table, the place looked quite tidy and ready for company. It was furnished in early student, but had a hint of whimsy, probably because either Micki or Jackie had scattered some colorful personal effects around and added some vibrant artwork to the walls.

“You’re hiding an interesting body under those crappy outfits,” Jackie observed, as Rowan stood passively for inspection, something that she would find herself doing in the next few years, and in far more intense situations than this one. “Your skin is amazing, all olive toned and so clear.”

Rowan shrugged. “It’s my Gaelic ancestry I guess. I wish my boobs were bigger.”

“We’ll get you a push-up bra. Micki has tons that don’t fit her. That will make a difference. Holy shit, woman, you don’t have any pubes!”

Rowan knew her face was a dark red, and she dropped her hands to cover her mons, apparently visible behind her sensible cotton underwear.

Jackie immediately said, “No worries, hun. I’ve had mine waxed, too. I just would never think it of you. Did it hurt?”

“I got lasered a few months ago,” Rowan confessed. “I don’t have a lot of body hair for some reason, and while I was in getting my underarms and legs done, the aesthetician suggested it. It, uh, well it just felt like I’d be tidier or something.” She didn’t share that it felt really sexy, too.

“Lasered, huh? Well, waxing’s no party. Maybe I should consider it. I like sex better without the hair, especially oral sex. Is that why you did it?”

Rowan said nothing and wondered why the ground just didn’t open up and swallow her. She had figured out masturbation in a big way, but while she had been checking out several of the male students on campus, no one had been looking back.

“Still haven’t done the deed, Shakespeare? Wow. Saving it? Or just haven’t had the opportunity yet?”

Rowan shrugged. Jackie was irrepressible. “I don’t know. I’m interested, but you know…”

“I
don’t
know, hun, but that’s your business. I’ll give you a few from my condom stash, though. The last thing you want is to get knocked up. Right?” At Rowan’s emphatic nod, Jackie continued, “It
is
guys you’re interested in though…”

“Yes. Not even remotely interested in women, Jackie, but I don’t care what other people do. I’ve come to see human sexuality in a very different light more recently.” It had felt so good to confide, to share, and Jackie had just nodded and smiled, although her smile had looked a little forced, and then got to work on the makeover.

Rowan stared at herself in the mirror. Holy smokes. She was wearing a silky, dark-blue top, held up only by the thinnest of straps, and Micki’s strapless bra definitely made the most of her small breasts. They were pushed high and filled out the fabric in a way that she wouldn’t have believed. She actually looked feminine. The skirt fit snugly over her hips, accentuating her flat stomach and narrow waist, and then flared around her knees, drawing attention to her long legs and tapered ankles. It was like looking at a stranger. The heels were going to kill her before the evening was over but Rowan had to admit that they were the pièce de résistance.

Jackie had worked her magic on her face, too. Rowan hadn’t realized that she had cheekbones, at least not such high ones, and her dark eyes looked luminous under the drift of gray shadow and liner, the lashes lengthened by the judicious use of mascara. Even her lips looked fuller, almost pouty. Her heavy chestnut-brown hair had been brutally straightened and then left to hang freely down her back, just a piece of it lifted and caught at the nape of her neck to frame her face. Rowan thought she cleaned up pretty well, and looked forward to the evening with anticipation.

The first clubbing experience had been one of fascination and excitement for Rowan. It didn’t matter that she had never learned to dance. The gyrating couples and groups of women on the dance floor weren’t doing any formal kind of dancing she’d ever seen. The smoky atmosphere with the dim lighting and throbbing beat of an eclectic mix of music accentuated the tangible flood of hormones. Rowan could feel and smell the potent brew. Jackie ordered her white wine and exhorted her to guard it at all times and never take a drink from it if it was out of her sight for even a second. Rowan was at least worldly enough to understand and accept the warning.

None of the three women lacked for partners that evening. Rowan found herself dancing with abandon, the movements fuelled with sips of wine and the even more intoxicating atmosphere. Some of the men casually stroked her flanks, and one actually cupped a breast under the pretext of supporting her when another woman bumped into them. He had backed off at her look and instant retreat, and that was really the only uncomfortable moment. She and Micki and Jackie made their way home to their apartments full of euphoria, and Rowan resolved to go shopping for more appropriate clothing the following day. She made Jackie promise to teach her how to style her hair and use makeup. It was the first step into a world Rowan may well have never known had it not been for her foray into erotica.

* * * *

After graduating at the top of her class, Rowan obtained a job in the library at the University, amongst her beloved books. She adopted a persona at work that was quite at odds with the one she portrayed in her social life and wondered a little at the dichotomy. She dressed conservatively on the job, both to impress upon the academics and her parents that she took her work seriously, for indeed she did, and to communicate that she was worthy of her position. She soon became one of the more invaluable employees. On the weekends she didn’t have to work, she frequented clubs with Jackie, and people would be hard-pressed to recognize the prim and proper campus librarian as the young woman out for the evening. Rowan “hooked up,” as they called it, with two of the men she met over the years, and embarked on relationships with them. She actually found the sex perfunctory, even after the obligatory deflowering, a process that wasn’t particularly painful or earth shattering. Zeke had been thoughtful and patient with her, but she hadn’t felt anything for him that might have been considered worthy of a long-term romance. The sex certainly didn’t live up to any kind of billing.

After Zeke, Hans had come along, and he had elicited more physical feelings within her, and she thought it was because he was more forceful and assertive in their lovemaking, causing her to make a comparison to her erotic romance novels. She felt like she was on the cusp of something with Hans, but his job transferred him out of state before they could explore things further. Rowan had a feeling that she was like one of those submissives featured so prominently in said novels, although her brain worked hard at reminding her what a strong, effectual woman she actually was, graduating with her master’s degree and working at an esteemed university, part of the faculty, at age twenty-five. It made her a bit schizophrenic.

Jackie had come out to her around that same time, and she and her friend had shared a bottle of the ubiquitous white wine, laughing and crying together, this time in Rowan’s apartment. Jackie believed she was not only bisexual, but interested in a polyamorous relationship.

“Fuck me, Shakespeare. My mom and dad expect me to come home, get a job as an English teacher, find a husband and start having lots of children to add to the ranks of our humongous Italian family! No freaking way are they going to accept that I want to do both men and women. And not necessarily separately.”

Rowan was intrigued and for a moment flirted briefly with the idea, then discarded it. She didn’t want to harm her friendship with Jackie for the sake of simple experimentation and her own sexuality yearned more so for one man. A strong, knowledgeable man who would know what she needed and provide it. Rowan just didn’t know where to look and wasn’t actually sure she really knew exactly what she needed. The fictitious man might, though.

“I’m not adverse to a ménage of sorts and I’m slowly moving into circles that accept the idea of two women connected with one man. There’s quite the underground movement around alternate sexuality in this fine city, Shakespeare. I’m just kind of chickenshit to try. ’Cause what if some freak does me instead?”

“What sorts of circles, Jackie?” Rowan wished she hadn’t drunk so much wine. She was missing something here.

“Well, you know that I’m dispatching at the police station on the east side.” Rowan nodded. Jackie had applied on a whim for the position and to her surprise, loved the job, although her degree in English was polar opposite. The unpredictability of it, the adrenaline high, and the camaraderie totally appealed to Jackie, the social butterfly.

“I was talking with one of the female cops on break the other night, and she kind of hit on me. I was sort of freaked, you know? I didn’t realize I was putting out vibes, but turns out I was. Ashley didn’t talk very long, had to go on a call, but she said some of the cops belong to a club. It apparently is a place for them to go and unwind out of the public eye with like-minded folks in the protection services. She alluded to it being a place to meet people safely and uh, participate in some stuff that you can’t find other places. I’m having coffee with her after work tonight.”

Jackie looked so earnest, her shoulders a bit hunched, big eyes fixed on Rowan’s as if fearing a put down. Her recently cut blonde hair feathered around her piquant features, and Rowan felt a surge of affection for her friend.

“I think you need to follow your gut, Jackie. It sounds pretty safe and this may be your chance.”

“I appreciate the encouragement, Shakespeare! I have to tell you that it sounds perfect, and knowing there’s a club that offers the venue makes it easier.”

Rowan’s head spun. She wondered if the club Jackie referenced might be like one of those in her novels. It felt like karma, and she gathered her courage.

“Jackie? Will you tell me about the club if you go? Unless of course, there’s some kind of secrecy policy.”

Jackie stared at her, eyes narrowed. “What’s up, Shakespeare? You aren’t bisexual. Or gay. Or…”

Rowan shook her head and ’fessed up. “I’m something, Jackie. I’m searching, and those guys in the nightclubs kind of leave me cold. Hans was different, but there was no emotional connection, you know?”

“Yeah, but he was hot. Was he kinky?”

“What do you mean, kinky?” Rowan heard the defensive tone in her voice and bit her lip. This was her friend, Jackie. She could tell her anything. This kind of withholding was probably what was keeping her from getting what she needed.

“C’mon, Rowan. Did he tie you up, use any toys?”

Rowan felt the familiar crimson tide flood her face, and before she could answer, Jackie pounced triumphantly. “He did!”

Rowan stood up and tried to walk away, but Jackie hung onto her like a leech. “No, he didn’t, Jackie, and I think I wish he had, but I didn’t know how to ask, and he didn’t read my mind. I’ve regretted it ever since and I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed about telling you.”

Jackie got quiet and released Rowan’s arm, then patted it. “Oh shit, hun. Are you thinking you’re some kind of a deviant? Because you’re not. There’s lots of folks who experiment, don’t just have vanilla sex. I mean, look at moi! I’ll tell you about the club if I can. Now, let’s finish this wine and order in some Thai.”

The rest of the evening passed in quiet friendship. Rowan felt closer than ever to Jackie, and reassured. Maybe her life outside of work would become more fulfilling.

“Ms. Scott.”

Rowan’s head snapped up from her perusal of the computer screen, her hands unfortunately striking the keyboard and leaving a nonsensical pattern of letters across the document she had been studying. The dean of literature stood at her desk, looking every inch the absent-minded professor, his gray hair and lined face belying the youthful intelligence in his old eyes. Rowan itched to find some patches to sew on the elbows of his jacket, worn thin by too many hours resting and rubbing on the surface of his desk. The dean was soon to retire, or at least that was the rumor and Rowan briefly wondered what he would do with his time. Teaching and research had been his life.

“Yes, Dean Atkins?”