Wherever the Dandelion Falls (28 page)

Good. So good. My pussy is so full. Fuck me harder. Indiscernible moaning.

It wasn't until he came, groaning and convulsing, that I let my body droop into its actual tiredness. I lifted off him and stood, looking for the clothes I had peeled off strategically. I had just bent down to pick up my bra when I saw it.

Tucked between two books on Dr. Turner's shelf was a video camera.

I froze.

Dr. Turner had videotaped everything from our negotiation to me riding him.

Had this been the first time he'd taped me? Was there footage of me stored somewhere in his house or
—
I felt sick
—
on the internet? What other boundaries had he crossed while my eyes were closed or my head was turned the other way? I was so angry and scared, I almost couldn't move.

I wanted to throw the camera on the ground and smash it with the stiletto I was still wearing. But he hadn't paid me yet, and I'd be damned if I walked out of his house without as much of his money as possible.

Standing back up slowly, pacing my breath so I would appear calm, I got dressed facing the wall. My jaw was wire-tight and my hands were shaking with anger, but I tried to appear cool.

Once I was dressed, I turned back around, putting on the most saccharine smile I could muster.

"That'll be eight-fifty."

Dr. Turner frowned. "I thought we agreed eight hundred."

"Dirty talk is extra," I said, reminding him of our going rate.

He grunted and stood, going into his bedroom to retrieve the wad of bills I was accustomed to receiving. When he returned, penis dangling free between his legs, he handed me the bills and ran his hand through his hair. "Thanks, Vi," he said, turning back to the bedroom. "Same time next week."

I watched him go with hate sparks flying out of my eyes. He had broken every ounce of trust I had in him. Everything about him
revolted
me.

"Dr. Turner?" I called after him.

"I told you, babe, call me Anthony.”

"Anthony," I said, going stony.

He raised his eyebrows, wondering what I wanted.

"You didn't pay me enough," I said, standing up as tall as I could.

He held his hands out, perplexed. "Eight-fifty. We agreed."

I put one hand on my hip. "We did agree. But I also recall you agreeing to my rule that
these
," I said, turning to the shelf and extracting the camera from its place, "were not allowed."

Dr. Turner let out a little grunt of a laugh. "It's no big deal, babe. It's just to help me get through the week. I can't afford you
every
night."

"Have you done this before?" I demanded.

"No," he said, holding up his hand as if to prove his honesty, but I didn't know if I could believe him.

"Is this the only one?" I asked, glaring at him.

"Yeah."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Swear to god, it's the only one," he said, raising his hands higher.

I didn't know if I could believe him, but I didn't have much of a choice.

Making a show of putting the camera into my purse, I looked him square in the eye and said, "If you even
think
of putting footage of me online, remember I have footage of you soliciting prostitution that I will take straight to the cops. I can blur my face out. One dumb click of your finger and you'll be in court." I stormed toward the door, yanking it open. "Don't ever fucking call me again," I said, slamming it behind me.

As the quiet settled in around us, I realized that I had jumped back into bed with Faye for the third and fourth time without having The Talk. Knowing she'd been with at least one other person since we'd slept together, I knew I needed to bring it up now.

"Hey, so... I probably should have asked you before," I began, trying to sound casual. "Have you been tested recently?"

Faye stiffened. "Not recently."

There was a tense moment of silence before she turned her head towards me. "Do you want me to?"

I nodded. "I just like to be cautious."

She raised her eyebrows. "It's a bit late for that."

"I know," I said, embarrassed.

She adjusted her head to focus back on the ceiling. "I'll make an appointment."

"Okay," I said, relieved that conversation had gone somewhat smoothly.

It was quiet for a moment before she turned and gave me an expectant expression. "Are you going to offer to do the same?"

"Yeah, of course. I’ll
—
I'll make an appointment."

She looked back at the ceiling and seemed to relax. Then she smiled and look back at me, all traces of tension replaced by happiness. "We're doing this, aren't we?"

I didn't know exactly what she meant, but I nodded and leaned up to kiss her. She kissed me back for a few moments, slow and tender, before her phone started buzzing.

Reluctant, she broke the kiss and reached for her phone. "Shit," she muttered. "I have class." She let out a heavy sigh and kissed me a few more times before she rolled over and sat up.

When she rose from the bed and started putting on her bra, I took in the sight of her backside for the first time sober. Aside from the stunning flow of her curves, something on her left shoulder-blade caught my eye.

"Is that a tattoo?" I asked.

"Yeah," Faye said with an ashamed, gasping laugh as she reached over her shoulder to touch the ink.

"What's it of?" I asked, squinting.

"A bird," Faye mumbled, reaching for her shirt. She drew it over her arms and was about to pull it over her head when I stopped her.

"Wait, I wanna see," I protested.

"It was part of my 'college rebellious phase,'" she said, mocking herself with air quotes. She paused with her back to me, leaning over so I could see the tasteful form of a sparrow in flight on her shoulder blade, no bigger than a quarter. The bird seemed to be yearning upwards, moving along Faye's skin, craving air. There was motion in its stillness, a cry for something more.

"It's beautiful," I said. "You should be more rebellious."

Faye pulled a shirt over her head, trapping the bird against her skin as she raised her eyebrows in rushed disagreement. "No, I shouldn't," she said. "Now I'm just like every other dyke who has a matching tattoo with someone she no longer speaks to," Faye muttered.

She was bristling, but not at me. She finished getting dressed in the quiet, picked up her book bag, and walked over to the bed, bending to kiss me first on the forehead and then on the lips.

“If you leave before I get back, make sure the door locks behind you. I'll see you tonight."

I smiled up at her and grabbed a bunch of her shirt to pull her back down for another kiss.

Then she left, blowing me a kiss from the doorway before she closed it.

I burrowed deep into her bed, unable to keep myself from giggling with happiness. I stayed in her bed for a long time before reluctantly extracting myself and going home to shower.

That afternoon, Justine and I were watching the latest episode of
Chopped
. She looked at me as her foot pressed into my thigh and said, "Hey, want me to invite Faye to my party?"

Justine's birthday was coming up, and we had planned a party for the following night. I knew there would be a lot of couples coming, but it was too early for me to ask Faye to come as my girlfriend. Justine knew that. This way I wouldn't have to ask Faye, and we wouldn't have to have an awkward non-conversation about what was implied by her coming with me to the party.

I nodded, grateful that Justine was so understanding.

A few hours later, Faye knocked at the door. On nights when I didn't work, she would reliably show up with wine or something yummy and we'd curl up on the couch.

Now that we weren't just friends, I just wanted to be around her all the time and absorb her. As soon as she walked in, I tackled her against the wall and kissed her, smiling and humming.

Faye seemed startled, lips stiffening against mine as she grunted in surprise. She put her hand on my waist and guided me away, eyes scanning the room.

"Hey," she said, handing me a bottle of sparkling lemonade.

"Hey," I grinned, stepping back into her. "How was class?"

"Fine. Is Justine here?" she asked, still looking around nervously.

"She's in the kitchen. Why?"

"Just wondering. I'll go get us some glasses."

"No, wait," I said, slipping my hand around her waist. "One more." I leaned in and fitted my lips to hers again, and she relaxed enough to kiss back for a moment before I pulled away. Then she went into the kitchen and I heard her chatting with Justine as I turned on the TV and cued up our movie for the night,
Six Degrees of Separation.

Justine's voice carried into the living room. "Hey, I'm having a little party here tomorrow night for my birthday. I keep meaning to invite you. Want to come?"

"Sure!" Faye said. "Sounds fun."

I smiled to myself, happy that Faye and my room mate got along so well.

When they came into the living room, Faye smiled at me and winked. It made my tummy flutter in the best way as she handed me a glass of lemonade. She seated herself in the middle of the couch, drawing my legs over her lap and covering us with a blanket. Justine placed a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and took her seat in her armchair. After we started the movie, Faye slipped her hands under the blanket to rub my calves and massage my feet. I never wanted to move.

That is, until the movie was over. At that point, I was so alive with Faye's touch that I wanted to march her into my bedroom and take off all her clothes and repeat what we'd already done twice that day. But Faye stayed rooted to the couch, lips pursed for a moment.

"That's such a head trip," she said. “That we all know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone etcetera who knows us."

"That movie was made in the eighties though," Justine said, gesturing to the screen with her glass. "These days I bet we're down to three or four degrees of separation."

Faye nodded, and I saw gears turning in her head hard for a minute.

Then she seemed to decide something and sat forward, patting my legs. "I gotta rest up for tomorrow," she said. "I have a big paper to write."

Disappointed and confused by Faye for the hundredth time, I let the couch support me as I drooped. "Okay," I mumbled.

"See you tomorrow," Faye said, moving my legs and standing up. "Be good until then."

I reached up to touch her arm and made a pouting pucker with my mouth, hoping she would bend down for a goodnight kiss. But my hand on her arm seemed to startle her. She patted my hand and walked quickly to the door without kissing me. Maybe she was just shy around Justine or didn't want to make her feel like a third wheel or something.

Sighing and giving Faye a tight-lipped smile, I resigned myself to not understanding. She closed the door and I was left in the quiet with Justine.

But then I considered that maybe I wasn't doing something properly. Maybe the reason I was confused about Faye was because I wasn't making an effort to define what we were. So though it scared the shit out of me, I decided I was going to ask her on a date. That would give me the clarity I needed.

I knew she wouldn't cup my face and stare into my eyes for as long as she had that morning if we were just fuck buddies. She wouldn't spend evenings stretched out on my couch with me, laughing or saying nothing at all as the hours rolled by. We were more than friends, and it was time we had a proper date.

The next morning I walked to her apartment, bouncing with excitement and anxiety. I'd never asked a girl out before. She let me in and seemed happy to see me, but distracted.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

"Taking a break from writing my paper."

When we got up to her apartment, I saw a huge pile of laundry on her bed, but the rest of the room was a big mess.

"So I was wondering..." I said, feigning shyness as my nerves surged, "if you would let me take you out to dinner this weekend."

Faye stiffened. "Like a date?"

I smiled wider. "Like a date."

Faye bit her lips and turned away, picking up a shirt and folding it. "No thanks," she said. She set to work folding another shirt, and then another, focusing on them to avoid looking at me.

I was perplexed. Wasn't going out to dinner a normal thing for people who liked each other to do?

"Did you want to do something else?" I asked, wondering if maybe money was a problem. Maybe going out to dinner was too expensive.

"Uh... we could go see that new
Oz
movie," she said, still sounding stiff. "My cousin gave me a gift certificate for two tickets and a large popcorn."

Figuring I must have guessed right, I agreed. "Sounds good," I said. I leaned back against her desk, looking around her room as she busied herself with her laundry. I suddenly felt awkward and out of place, like she wanted me to leave.

"Anything you need help with?" I offered.

"Nope." The word was thin and curt. It made me more uneasy.

"Okay..." I said, glancing around for anything to talk about.

I looked at her pictures for a moment, studying how her face had subtly thinned over the years. The picture of her high school graduation was only slightly different from her college graduation: sandwiched between her parents, the only difference was the color of her cap and gown and a slight definition in her jaw and cheeks.

She'd never talked about her parents much. Then again, I'd never talked about mine, other than to say they were divorced and still lived in Ann Arbor. But given Faye's sudden shift, I didn't think now was a good time to talk about family.

I decided to cut my losses and go home. She was coming to Justine's party, so I knew I'd see her in a few hours.

"I guess I'll go home and rest before the party," I said, trying to convey my disappointment and uncertainty.

She made eye contact for the first time in a few minutes and gave me a terse smile.

"See you tonight," I said, sounding even sadder.

"See you tonight," she echoed, turning back to her laundry.

I left her apartment and walked heavily back to my apartment.

What the hell was her deal?

Justine was bustling around in the kitchen getting ready for the party.

"Hey," I said, trying to perk up.

"Hey," she said. "I have a bone to pick with you."

"Okay..." I said, bracing myself for a complaint about leaving my hair in the drain or not doing the dishes on time.

"What's going on with you and Faye?" she asked, hand on door of the refrigerator.

Startled by her confrontation and unsure what to say, I shrugged. "We're just seeing where it goes."

Justine gave me a dubious expression. "Riley," she warned.

"I don't know," I admitted. "She's confusing."

"You guys are fucking, right?"

I looked away. "Yes," I said, suddenly ashamed. I had never been ashamed of sleeping with someone before, but Justine's disapproving expression was unnerving.

"Are you dating?"

"I think so," I said.

"You
think
so."

I sighed. "I don't want to be too needy."

Justine squinted even further. "There's a difference between being needy and knowing what's going on," she said. She turned back to the fridge and sighed. "I don't want you to get hurt. I like Faye, but I'd like her more if she woke up and saw how great you are."