Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Four weeks. Only four weeks to bury the body, settle the estate, and grieve the love of her life. Grief hit Carol like a freight train. She lost sleep, weight, and any reason to drag herself out of bed. The food in her fridge rotted, and her liquor cabinet ran dry. But the world didn’t wait for her, and neither did her employer. She had four weeks to pull herself together before classes started.

Escapism called to Carol in her troubled youth, and she had fostered it into a career. Writing was the one outlet where she felt like she had any control. While her novels always did well, there was more security in her salaried position at the University of New Mexico. She taught creative writing, classic literature, and hosted a handful of workshops about the publishing industry. It was enough work to keep her busy, and she prayed that a packed schedule would keep her mind off of Helen.

It was the weekend before classes started when she finally forced herself to shower, dress, and leave her quiet house. Aside from the funeral and a couple of grocery pick-ups, Carol hadn’t gone anywhere since Helen died. Not that she even would have been able to with the breathalyzer stopping her. But she was sober, clean, and collected when she arrived on campus.

Staff were buzzing around the halls. There were a few forlorn smiles sent her way, but no one stopped to chat. Carol wasn’t particularly chummy with any of them, and given her notorious temper, none of them dared to get too close on her first day back. They had to have heard about what happened. It was all over the news.

Carol tried to not think about her colleagues opinions, and instead went straight to her classroom. At least there she could be away from prying eyes. But as she hurried in and closed the heavy door behind her, she quickly realized she was anything but alone.

A tall woman, in a navy blazer and a matching pencil skirt, was hanging a banner of various country flags above the blackboard. Carol watched her for a moment, confused and short on patience.

“Can I help you?” Carol finally asked.

The woman caught her eyes, and smiled like she was an old friend. “I was hoping you’d be here.” She let a length of the banner fall, in favor of offering her hand for a shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Sturka. I’m a big fan of your work.”

The bitter part of Carol’s mind – the one she could never quite shut off – wanted to correct her. It wasn’t ‘Mrs.’ anymore, just ‘Ms.’. But this woman, with her big doe eyes and soft inflection, didn’t deserve her rage. She was the first person to even address Carol all day.

Carol couldn’t look her in the eyes. She cleared her throat and pointed to the blackboard. “What’s with the banner?”

The woman slowly retracted her hand, and accepted that a handshake wasn’t happening. “Oh, well, the classroom felt a little cold.”

“So, wear a sweater.”

The woman smiled politely. “Cold as in unwelcoming. I thought some decorations might make students from all walks of life feel more comfortable. But, if you don’t like it, I could take it down.”

Carol scoffed. “I’m sorry, but who the hell are you? Are you my TA? Or are you just here for an autograph?”

She chuckled softly. “No, my name is Zosia Rybak. I’m teaching the ESL courses this semester.”

“Right…” Carol reined in her temper. A miscommunication was no reason to blow up on this clueless woman. “…I think you’ve got the wrong room. You see, this is my classroom. Where I teach. By myself.”

Her expression faltered. “Oh. They haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

Zosia sucked on her bottom lip. “The language department is… having some changes. They’re consolidating.”

Carol took a deep breath. It was something she had been working on, but it had little effect in that moment. “You mean to tell me we’re sharing a classroom? As in… as in what? I’m not teaching all day anymore? I’m supposed to have a packed fucking schedule!”

Zosia grimaced, but her voice was soft and pacifying. “Perhaps you should give Dean Winters a call and have this all sorted out.”

“Oh, I’ll call him alright.” She scoffed, already marching off with her phone in her hand. She pointed as she ducked out of the doorway. “And take down that stupid fucking banner!”

Dean Winters picked up after a single ring, but Carol didn’t even give him the chance to speak first. “I am not sharing my classroom! I don’t care if she’s a supermodel, or a super anything, I’m not doing it!”

“Woah, Woah, easy Carol.” It wasn’t the dean’s first rodeo with her outbursts. “We tried calling you, but you didn’t answer. We even sent you letters with your amended class schedule. Did you get them?”

Checking the mail was just as hard as any task nowadays. Fans of Carol’s had sent heaps of sympathy cards, but each one just served to sour her mood. None of those people knew Helen. The majority of the senders just had to ask if Helen’s death would impact the release date of the latest Wycaro novel. Needless to say, Carol had stopped checking the mail.

“I just don’t see how it’s fair that you cut my course load just so this woman can teach in my classroom,” Carol said. “Find somewhere else for her.”

There was a long pause before the dean replied. “It’s not a matter of space, Carol. The language department is just making some changes.”

“Changes like what?” She barked.

Dean Winters sighed. “I really didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone.”

Carol’s heart dropped.

“You’re firing me?”

“No, no, not at all.” He quickly assured, but it did little to ease Carol’s anxieties. “We just think, in light of recent events, perhaps it would be for the best if your course load was reduced. For your sake.”

She swallowed hard, and spoke through tight lips. “You’re cutting my hours because my wife died?”

“This has nothing to do with that, although, I am sorry for your loss.” The dean took a deep breath. “We had several students come forward last spring and express concerns about your wellbeing, then there was that verbal altercation with that student last fall… we thought lessening your courseload would put things in perspective for you.”

Carol wasn’t stupid. She caught on to what the dean was insinuating immediately. “So, I’m on probation?”

“That would be the technical term, yes. Let’s see how this semester goes, then we can discuss your rooming situation with Miss Rybak, as well as your future here.”

Carol gripped her phone, her knuckles whitening as a cold wave washed over her. The rational part of her mind knew pushing back now would do little good, but indignation simmered beneath her grief. She ended the call, feeling worse than she started. Probation. The semester hadn’t even started, and she was already on thin ice. Carol hesitated with the doorknob in her hand. It took a few moments to push past her embarrassment, and face this rival professor.

Zosia clearly knew the room sharing was disciplinary. It was obvious in the way she bowed her head and bit back a frown as she slowly gathered up her banner of flags. She was awkward and robotic in her movements, as she pretended to act natural.

Carol walked up to her, sizing her up. Zosia was a good few inches taller than her, never mind the heels. She was well put together, with her curled brown tresses and ironed business attire. Carol’s hair was still wet from her shower, and her sweats were wrinkled. Zosia was professional, and Carol, anything but.

“So, what terrible thing did you do to get stuck with me?” Carol asked.

Zosia finally looked up, and her eyes softened. “Nothing. I wanted to be with you.”

There must have been an abundance of confusion on Carol’s face, as Zosia opted to explain.

“I was in the Glasgow Airport with some of the worst food poisoning of my entire life. Some bad fish in Copenhagen.” She shook her head at the memory and continued. “Anyway, I picked up Bitter Chrysalis at the giftshop to distract myself between trips to the toilet. I ended up in the hospital for a few days, but I had your book to get me through it. Ever since then, I was hooked.”

Carol blinked a few times, her scowl never ceasing. “Glad my writing is better than vomiting.”

“Much better.” Zosia assured, oblivious to the sarcasm. “You have such a way with words. When I read your prose, it’s like I can taste the exact food you’re describing. Airy pancakes, and the sweetest of syrups dripping on my tongue. You can teleport me anywhere in the world with only your words. Hard packed clay beneath my boots, thick blankets of humid air, smothering me in a wet heat…”

She trailed off, gazing on a fixed point in the distance. Zosia blinked a few times, returning to the present conversation with the faintest blush across her cheeks. “Apologies. I get a little carried away sometimes.”

Carol felt her cheeks grow warm at her honeyed words as well. Most compliments she received were about the Wycaro series, the mindless romance for lonely housewives. Bitter Chrysalis, intended for an audience with brains, rarely received its flowers. Helen was the only other person who held it in such regard.

Carol glanced at the banner, then back at the strange woman. “You can hang it up in the back. I take my lunch in here from noon to one. Alone. Don’t touch my things.” She plucked the roll of tape from Zosia’s hands. “And don’t use my tape.”

Zosia nodded, not seeming fazed by Carol’s curtness. She moved toward the back of the room, banner in hand. There was a quiet determination to her movements, and an unwavering peace about her. Carol watched her work, arms folded, and curiosity piqued. This woman, who claimed to have sought her out, didn’t seem to want anything except a moment in her presence. It was oddly disarming.

Chapter Text

The ground shifted beneath Carol’s feet, making her sway and stagger down the hall. It wasn’t the first time she had woken up, still intoxicated from the previous night. Doubts about her future at the University had driven her to drink, although, just about anything was enough to set her off nowadays. She had watched The Golden Girls and finished off a bottle of vodka just shortly before sunrise. It was Helen’s favorite show, and Carol’s drink of choice.

She had to Uber to work, which was probably for the best, as her eyes were still bleary and her brain still foggy. The handrail down the hall was the only thing that kept her steady on the way to her classroom. But when she finally breached the door with her fumbling fingers, she was surprised to find the seats filled. All eyes were on her.

“Professor Sturka,” Zosia cautiously greeted as she paused her scrawling on the blackboard. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Carol held the back of a chair, indifferent to the student occupying it. She was far more concerned with the woman using her chalk. While her smile was familiar, she couldn’t recall her name in the midst of her drunken state.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Carol slurred.

Her words echoed through the room, sharp and gruff, the alcohol still stinging her raw nerves. There was a collective gasp among the crowd of students, followed by a sea of murmurs. Zosia was taken aback, chalk still hovering in place. The whispers grew louder, as did Professor Sturka.

“This is my classroom, and that’s my – ” She belched into her fist. “My chalk. You think you can just help yourself, huh?”

The initial shock had worn off, and Zosia was quick to shut down the tirade. Her posture straightened, and she sat the chalk down rather deliberately. “I apologize about the chalk, Professor Sturka, but I do believe the room is mine for the next hour. If you’d like to discuss the new schedule, we could meet in my office and – “

“This is bullshit,” Carol spat, stumbling down the aisle. “I’ve been here for seven goddamn years! I’ve worked hard for what I have, and I’m not letting you take it!”

A backpack jutting out into the walkway was Carol’s demise. She just barely caught it with her foot, and came crashing down onto the hardwood floor. People crowded around, and Carol thrashed about in a blind rage.

“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!”

She swung her hands all around, smacking anyone who got too close. The onlookers all scattered, except for one. That woman that just wouldn’t stop smiling at her. Zosia leaned down near the rabid dog, unafraid of her bite.

“You’re drunk, Carol. Please, let me help,” she whispered.

Zosia was giving her nothing but grace, and it made Carol all the more frustrated. Usually, she only needed to bare her teeth. A flash of anger, a shout, a threat. That was all Carol needed to do to scare people off. No one ever stayed very long once they recognized her anger boiling just beneath the surface. No one except Helen.

Carol desperately wanted to fight, but she lost all the wind in her sails. Memories of Helen couldn’t be drowned so easily, and the grief started to seep through the cracks. Hot tears streaked Carol’s face, and she stifled the ugly sob that tried to escape her throat.

Professor Rybak immediately dismissed her class, with the exception of one of the more muscular students. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried Professor Sturka to her office.

Once inside, they laid Carol on her cluttered futon, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of humiliation and sorrow. Zosia lingered at the doorway for a moment, but ultimately left, quietly closing the door behind her. Carol didn’t stay conscious much longer after that. Between the lack of sleep, the alcohol, and the sobbing, she was completely drained.

She wasn’t sure how long she had slept. When she woke, her head was pounding, and even just the lamp by her desk was blinding. Carol slowly sat up, and became aware of a jacket draped over her. It was faux leather, with a soft sherpa lining, and careful stitching around the lapel. It certainly wasn’t hers, and certainly wasn’t there when she passed out.
Her breath hitched when she noticed blood on the back of her hand. She must have cut herself on something during her episode. Scrapes and cuts weren’t uncommon for her to wake up to after a night of heavy drinking.

The whole morning was a blur, and the events were slow to come back to her. She remembered coming into work drunk. Something she wasn’t proud of, but it also wasn’t the first time it had happened. The next thing she remembered was shouting, falling, and that angelic being picking her up off the floor.

Carol rubbed her eyes, and willed away any kind thoughts she may have had about Zosia. Carol knew how this story would end. One slip up during probation, and Professor Rybak would be her replacement. Dean Winters had made that clear enough. Carol caught sight of the analog clock hanging beside her various awards and certificates, and her heart sunk.

She was late to her first class of the day.

She shot up, her stomach flipping and her balance lagging behind. Carol braced against her desk, and breathed through it. Her hands shook as she tried to smooth her hair in the small mirror above the desk, but it was a lost cause. Her eyes were still bloodshot, and her lips trembled with each shallow breath. She forced herself to focus, collected the necessary materials for her lecture, and hurried out the door.

It was the first day back, and Carol was already fucking up. Her position at the college was all she had left to keep her sane, but she just couldn’t help herself. The past four weeks of careful mental preparation all went out the window when she ran into Zosia that first time. That was the only way Carol could rationalize her self-destruction. This was all Zosia’s fault.

Carol skittered to a halt at the sight of a sign posted outside of her classroom.

Both Professor Sturka and Professor Rybak’s lectures are cancelled for the day.
Enjoy your Monday :)

Carol ripped down the sign and threw the door open. Zosia sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed. She had the audacity to cancel Carol’s classes for the day, and then sit there like she was ready to scold her.

“So, you think you can just cancel my classes? Is this some kind of joke?” Carol barked, waving the paper.

Zosia bowed her head, but didn’t answer her question. Someone else did.

“No, it’s very serious, actually.”

Carol turned to see Dean Winters standing in the back of the classroom, admiring the banner of flags. His short, black hair was dusted with silver, and his broad shoulders cast an impressive shadow. Status aside, he was an intimidating man, and Carol felt infinitely small in his presence.

Carol glanced back to Zosia, but she refused to meet her eye. She looked just as exhausted, and there was a bandage on her cheek that hadn’t been there before. Carol fiddled with the ring on her bloodied hand, realizing just how sharp the gemstone was. Her heart sank. She had slashed her during all that flailing. Zosia must have told the dean about the scuffle. About how Carol cursed her out and cut her open. She felt sick to her stomach for at least ten different reasons.

“Whatever she told you is a lie,” Carol blurted out.

“Oh?” Dean Winters leaned against one of the seats, unconvinced. “Then tell me, Carol. What happened this morning?”

Carol stuttered and stammered, trying to think of the right thing to say. But she knew her fate was sealed. There was no way she could spin this that made her look good. She may as well turn around and empty out her office.

“It was my fault,” Zosia said, interrupting Carol’s uncertainty. “I provoked her by using her chalk, which she explicitly asked me not to touch.”

The dean crossed his arms. “And how does that justify any sort of outburst? We have a zero tolerance policy for violence.”

Zosia didn’t let Carol answer that question either. “The cut on my face is from my cat this morning. Carol’s ‘outburst’ you speak of was merely a verbal exchange. A justified one, I might add. Yes, there were a few vulgarities, but we’re all adults, are we not?”

Carol was speechless. There had to have been an ulterior motive. That was the only explanation Carol could think of. What exactly Zosia was trying to get out of taking the blame, that was uncertain. Still, Carol knew this was her only chance to be spared the axe, so she hid her bloodied hand behind her back, and stayed far enough away so the dean couldn’t smell the alcohol on her breath.

Dean Winters’ jaw shifted as he mulled it over. “Carol, I understand you’re unhappy with this arrangement, but Miss Rybak, I expect better out of you. You came here with high recommendations, and I expect a certain level of professionalism.”

“Understood, sir,” Zosia nodded. “I apologize.”

There was a long silence filled with uncertainty. Finally, he exhaled sharply, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Let’s keep this civil from now on,” he said, voice stern but not unkind. “You both have work to do, and I expect you to do it without further incident.”

Both of the women agreed, and Dean Winters staged his exit, but not without a final remark, just for Carol.

“Thin. Ice.” He warned.

Carol held her breath and nodded. The heavy door closing behind him broke the tension, and Carol’s shoulders sagged. Her breath came back ragged, and her heart hammered in her chest. That was a close call. Way too close.

With the threat gone, Zosia gathered up her belongings into her satchel. The classroom felt colder than ever, and Carol wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“What’s your angle here?” Carol asked, her hackles still raised, and suspicions lingering. “What do you want from me?”

Zosia tightly gripped the strap of her satchel as she approached. Her eyes were wet, and red skin peeked out from beneath her bandage. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, her expression unreadable.

“Do you always assume the worst out of people?”

Carol opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her silence was enough of an answer, and Zosia left her to stew.

The expectation was clear in the days that followed. Neither professor interrupted the other’s class, and neither spoke more than a simple greeting. Carol should have been grateful for the situation. She could have been paired with Professor Diabaté, the French instructor with a penchant for his female students. Not only was he a creep, but he was incredibly outgoing, which made him all the more annoying. At least Carol didn’t have to worry about Zosia coming onto her, although, in a different life, her advancements wouldn’t necessarily be unwelcomed. She was beautiful, albeit, a bit too sunshiny for Carol’s liking.

A relationship was the last thing on Carol’s mind. As far as she was concerned, she had found her person. But now, with Helen gone, Carol was throwing in the towel. It took decades for them to build their life, and intwine their personalities. Carol couldn’t imagine anyone ever loving an angry curmudgeon like her ever again. Helen was a miracle. Her miracle.

Even with all of her newfound free time between classes, Carol couldn’t find the energy to work on any projects. Her latest Wycaro novel sat untouched, and her fans’ questions unanswered. Helen normally did the fan interactions when Carol was in a slump, but there was no one to pick her up this time. Carol simply went to work and went home. So many joys in her life carried Helen’s memory. Hiking, binge watching shows, elaborate dinners, and traveling. It was less painful to lay on the couch with a bottle of rum and wait for sleep to find her.

Work was all she had, and if the space around her and Zosia was cold before, it was now an arctic tundra. Carol kept waiting for the other shoe to drop – for Zosia to show her true intentions – but it never came. Each day that passed just made Carol feel worse about everything that transpired. By Friday, she couldn’t take it anymore.

Carol hesitated outside of Professor Rybak’s office. Apologies weren’t really Carol’s thing. She had rehearsed what to say all night, and still, she found herself getting cold feet. She took a deep breath, and forced herself to knock.

“Come in.”

Carol slunk into uncharted territory. The office was quiet, sunlight slanting across stacks of books and an empty mug on the desk. The new professor was still in the midst of moving in, but there was an organization to the half-unpacked boxes stacked all about. Zosia glanced up from a pile of papers, her eyes tired but expectant. The cut across her cheek was now only a scratch, but the sight of it still twisted Carol’s stomach into an ugly knot. Carol cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly, searching for the right words. The jacket in her hand was the easiest starting point.

“You, um, left your jacket in my office.” Carol held it out.

“I apologize. It was not my intention to take up any more of your space.” Zosia’s voice was cold. She glanced over the fabric, then gestured to the chair across from her. “You can put it there.”

Carol inched forward, and hung it over the back. She cleared her throat and compelled herself to speak. “I didn’t mean to cut you.”

“I know.” Zosia leaned back in her chair, watching her closely. “Drunken antics are often unpredictable. Although, I will admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you in such a state on a Monday morning. And on campus, no less.”

Carol’s cheeks burned. The embarrassment alone was almost enough to send her out the door, but something kept her from running. She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and tried to recall the apology she had worked so hard on.

“It was not my intention to make you feel unwelcome. I’ve had a lot of unexpected life changes lately, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. So, for that, I am sorry.” She faltered slightly. “And thank you for covering for me. I owe you for that.”

Zosia’s expression softened, if only a fraction. “Thank you for apologizing. It means a lot to me.”

Carol let out an exaggerated exhale, and threw on the best smile she could. “Good, good, I’m glad. Um…” She clicked her tongue. “You haven’t… mentioned the whole passing out drunk thing to our colleagues, have you?”

Her smile finally returned. “No, I’ve been far too busy. Aside from the dean, you’re the only colleague I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know.”

It was a slight relief, but Carol knew she had been anything but a pleasure.

“Well, I would highly encourage you to go and meet some of them. You seem like a very nice and genuine person, so don’t waste your time hanging around an asshole like me.” Carol snorted at her own expense.

“On the contrary, I think you’ve been rather genuine yourself.” She took a moment to scan Carol’s face, a coy look about her. “Even if you are an asshole.”

Carol bit back a smile. Zosia’s forgiveness relieved a tension in her shoulders that went deeper than just the drunken tirade. For the first time since Helen’s death, she felt a moment of peace. And even if it was fleeting, confined to the cozy office and muted laughter, it was something she could hold on to.

Chapter Text

Carol never ate in the dining hall. Even when she herself was a spry, young college student, she found her peers to be obnoxious. Things weren’t any different in adulthood, with different cliques of instructors gathering at different tables, and Carol was far from the ‘in crowd’.

Carol was just stopping by to microwave her frozen meal, before eating it in the sanctity of her office. But before her food was even done, she heard her name called from across the dining hall. Zosia had spotted her, waving and smiling.

“Come sit with us!” She called.

Things were better between the two, but Carol still felt awkward at times. She’d go over her allotted lecture time, on some tangent about adverbs, and Zosia would slip in, unnoticed. She’d stand at the back, listening to Carol’s rant, never demanding that she hurry up. Carol would apologize for taking up Professor Rybak’s prep time, but she would always shrug it off.

“I find your passion riveting,” she would say.

Carol’s heart would flutter, and she’d stamp it out quickly. She found her heart fluttering in that same way at Zosia now beckoning her over. Had it been anyone else, Carol would have promptly ignored them. But she felt like she owed it to the new instructor, and besides, Zosia was sitting right next to Professor Diabaté. She’d need all the help she could get.

A quick mental pep talk, and Carol was ready to handle the worst. There were more instructors at the table than Carol initially realized, and the only free seat was far away from Zosia. She quietly sat, scared of what old drama her peers might rehash, but none of them paid her much mind. They were all too fascinated with Zosia.

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to go to Colombia.” Professor Diabaté was practically leaning on Zosia’s tray, drooling over her like a dog. “I hear the women are très beau. But of course, not as beautiful as Poland.”

Zosia smiled politely, all eyes on her. “I was there for work, not for women.”

“Ah, yes, yes, such a scholar. One would not assume, with such a beautiful face.” He spoke to another one of the men who was uncomfortably close. “Did you know, Miss Rybak speaks seven different languages? Polish, Spanish, Russian, German, Arabic, and française, of course.” He winked, then pondered. “And what was the last one…”

“English.” Carol quipped.

The energy at the table shifted. Professor Diabaté raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “Ah, of course! How could I forget the language of academia itself?” His countenance shifted as he directed his attention to Carol. “I’m sure you know all about Miss Rybak’s travels. You two must gossip all the time in that classroom you share.”

Carol gripped her fork tightly, glancing up from her food. “We’re usually busy working.”

He trilled his lips. “How can work be more exciting than traveling the world?” He mocked an epiphany. “Ah, wait, my apologies. I forget how much you Americans love sitting in your little offices.”

Carol rolled her eyes and returned to her food. He wasn’t worth the effort, and she didn’t want to lose her temper in front of Zosia again. The conversation drifted to more of Zosia’s travels, and the work she had done in various countries. Teaching the less fortunate, and volunteering with various foreign aid programs. It was selfless work, which made Carol feel even worse about the way she had treated her. Carol all but tuned out, wallowing in her own misery, until she heard her name in that sweet, sweet voice.

“Huh?” Carol asked, perking up.

“I said, if I ever wrote a book about my travels, I’d ask you for advice.” Zosia smiled.

Carol flushed with warmth from the compliment, but Professor Diabaté wasn’t nearly as impressed with Carol’s skills.

“Unless you’re writing about sexy pirates or cabana boys, you should find someone with some serious credentials. I, for one, have several articles published online about the Romance languages.” He leaned on his elbow, making eyes at Zosia. “Podemos hablar en español toda la noche, mi amor.”

Zosia’s expression faltered ever so slightly. Carol wasn’t fluent by any means, but she knew enough Spanish – and enough about Professor Diabaté – to know that he was hitting on her. The men all gathered around hadn’t noticed, but Carol could pick up on Zosia’s body language immediately. She was uncomfortable. Carol could only stand it for so long, and truthfully, she had been better behaved than normal.

“Would you back off already?” Carol growled. “Jesus, it’s only her second week here. She doesn’t need you drooling all over her.”

There was a flicker of surprise across Zosia’s gentle features, while Professor Diabaté seemed rather annoyed.

“Carol,” he said in that patronizing tone. “Don’t you have a student to harass?”

“Don’t you have a student to stick your dick in?” She snapped right back.

Shock spread across the gathered peers in a tidal wave, but Professor Diabaté didn’t falter. Neither did Carol. She held his gaze, refusing to look away first. The group of men waited with bated breath to see who dared to back down.

“There’s no need to fight.” Zosia said in a pacifying voice, once her own surprise had worn off. “We can all be friends here.”

Both of the rival instructors laughed at the idea.

“Trust me, Zosia, you don’t want to be friends with a guy like him.” Carol returned to her food, but she had lost her appetite.

Zosia sighed, a little disappointed with that answer. All that work she had done to keep peace in foreign countries didn’t translate to a stubborn mule like Carol. Professor Diabaté turned back to Zosia with a spiteful curl to his lips.

“Don’t mind her,” he said. “She was like this even before her wife killed herself.”

Carol could bicker and she could stand her ground against the most obnoxious of spirits. But Professor Diabaté had brought a hand grenade to a knife fight. Carol felt disgusted and wrathful and heartbroken all in one fell swoop. There was a consensus amongst the group that Professor Diabaté had crossed a line, and several of them voiced their qualms. But it was Zosia, with her hand to her mouth and her eyes wide, that pushed Carol past her breaking point.

Carol shot up from her seat, and marched out of the dining hall before anyone could see her tears.

The office door slammed behind her with such force, one of her framed certificates fell from the wall and clattered to the floor. She paced about her office, taking deep breaths. There was no one to see her unravel, and yet the weight of humiliation pressed down just as heavily as if the dining hall were still watching. Carol brushed back her hair and tried to find her composure, but it was hopeless. A whimper broke through, and an avalanche of emotion followed suit.

Carol leaned against her chair as sobs wracked her body. She wished she could have had a comeback, or some kind of way to refute his statement, but all she could do was run. The truth surrounding Helen’s death still escaped her, and Professor Diabaté’s claim did nothing but confirm Carol’s suspicions. Everyone knew, and they all assumed the worst.
There was a gentle knock at the door, so quiet that Carol almost didn’t hear it over her sobbing. She knew it was Zosia. Carol could still picture that look on her face. Those big brown eyes full of shock, and her mouth agape. It was absolutely humiliating.

Coming back was a bad idea. She should have just taken the bereavement leave, then put in her two weeks. She never should have stepped foot on campus, where everyone could speculate and hypothesize just what it was she did to push Helen over the edge.

The door creaked open, and Carol quickly turned away, stifling her sobs. “Just go away,” she begged.

Heels tentatively clicked across the hardwood, entering her space, and the door gently latched shut. Carol had half a mind to tear into her for entering unannounced until Zosia spoke up.

“Thank you for saying something,” she said softly. “He’s a very persistent man. And an asshole, it would seem.”

Carol wiped at her tears, still facing the wall. “Yeah, must’ve caught it from me.”

Zosia’s hand found Carol’s shoulder, gentle yet firm. “He had no right to say that to you. I’ll have a word with the dean and – “

“Don’t.” Her voice was fragile, and her breath shook as she inhaled. “I don’t want to blow this all up. I’d rather just move on.”

Zosia’s thumb moved in a small circle, and Carol cursed herself for the comfort it brought. She felt like an idiot for crying in front of her like that. Zosia had probably made plenty of assumptions herself after hearing the spat at the lunch table. The thought of Professor Diabaté telling Zosia anything about Helen made her sick. Helen was her wife. It was her story to tell.

Carol gestured to the futon, and Zosia graciously took a seat. Carol sat beside her, mindful of the space between their knees, and Professor Rybak’s class that was starting soon.

“About two months ago, my wife Helen died.” That part alone was hard enough to spit out. “That night, we had gotten into an argument about something stupid. I don’t even remember it now. Helen said she needed to cool off, so she took a drive. I was too busy being pissed at her that I didn’t even say goodbye. I just popped open a bottle of Jägermeister and passed out on the couch. I woke up to banging on the front door, and I was so out of it, I thought that maybe I locked Helen out on accident. But… it was a police officer.”

It helped if she imagined she was pitching a story, rather than retelling the worst night of her life. Still, her emotions were barely contained. Carol focused her gaze on the rug, and took a deep breath before continuing. “They found her car parked out in the desert by the railroad tracks. It was still running, and the door was open, but Helen was gone. The reason they even found it was because, uh…” Carol took a shaky breath. “Someone had been struck by a train.”

Zosia let out a soft breath, and it just about broke her. But Carol persisted through tight lips and short sentences.

“Cops ruled it a suicide. Wouldn’t even entertain the idea of foul play. I got a lawyer, some sketchy guy from a billboard, and he convinced them to do forensics. But they still came up with nothing. I even shelled out for a PI, and he had the same answer.” Carol shook her head, her frustration was still so fresh. “Helen would never do that. I know her, and she… she wouldn’t just end it like that. She wouldn’t leave me.”

Zosia placed a warm palm on Carol’s knee, and gave her a squeeze. “It sounds like you really loved her.”

Carol’s voice broke, and a tear escaped, despite her best efforts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to throw all of this at you. Jesus, you probably think I’m a crazy person.” Carol shot up out of her seat and returned to her anxious pacing. “You’ve got a class to get to, and I’ve got some things to do and –“

All at once, Zosia rose from the couch, and caught Carol in an embrace. She froze, naturally. No one so much as shook hands with Carol at the funeral, and she never let Helen hug her in public. How long it had been since someone held her dear, she didn’t know. All Carol knew was something visceral inside of her craved it, and Zosia’s hair against her cheek was just as soft as it looked.

Slowly, like an animal tiptoeing into a trap, she hugged her back. It was stiff and awkward, but Zosia didn’t seem to mind. Zosia let out a pleased exhale, her warm breath blowing chills down Carol’s spine. For a moment, she didn’t want it to end. This closeness with another person was something her body had been denied, and the evidence was obvious in the way her hands clutched fistfuls of Zosia’s sweater, and another tear trailed down her cheek.

Eventually, Zosia began to pull back, and Carol slowly reentered reality, reminding herself of the situation at hand. Zosia was just a colleague supporting her on a tough day. It was unlikely Zosia would ever feel the need to hug her again. This wasn’t forever.

But as Professor Rybak pulled back, she paused at the cusp of Carol’s ear, her lips just barely brushing against her skin as she spoke. “My office is always open to you, Carol.”

Chapter Text

Friendship wasn’t something Carol was used to. Childhood friends came and went, coworkers were tolerated, and fans of her novels were simply there to pay the bills. Of course, there was Helen, but she herself was a unicorn. That’s what made all of her interactions with Zosia so bizarre.

She struggled to recall the last time she’d let anyone in, or even wanted to try. But there was something different about Zosia that made her want to keep coming back. Carol didn’t drag her feet coming to class anymore, and she looked forward to seeing Professor Rybak sitting in on her lectures. When those familiar doe eyes met hers, there wasn’t anxiety or ire resting on Carol’s chest. There was contentment.

Zosia had forsaken the dining hall after that eventful lunch. When Carol asked, Zosia said she preferred the quiet of her office. Carol didn’t quite believe her, and had a feeling it had more to do with the unwelcomed attention that came with her natural beauty. How anyone could stomach their food around Professor Diabaté was beyond her. But while she claimed to enjoy the quiet, it seemed Zosia enjoyed Carol’s company more, as she kept inviting the curmudgeon to join her in the sanctity of her office.

Carol was light on her feet as she scurried along with her microwave meal burning her fingertips. Lunch in Zosia’s office was awkward the first few times, but quickly became part of Carol’s routine. In fact, she found herself looking forward to it. An hour alone with the most interesting woman in Albuquerque. And while Carol was reluctant to deem the dynamic between them a ‘friendship’, it certainly was nice to have someone to talk to again.

Carol let herself in through the cracked office door, and all the excitement she carried was squandered. Sat at the edge of Zosia’s desk was Professor Diabaté, a toothy grin on his face as he charmed his cohort as best he could. Much to Carol’s dismay, Zosia was laughing at some joke he had made. Carol’s eye twitched. The meal burning her fingers was nothing compared to her irritation simmering just below the surface.

Zosia caught the pissed off professor just out of the corner of her eye, and welcomed her with that warm smile of hers. “Carol, there you are.”

“Why’s he here?” Carol blurted out. If looks could kill, Professor Diabaté would be long gone.

“Professor Diabaté here was just saying how awful he felt about that exchange at lunch.” Zosia leaned back in her chair and looked to him expectantly.

His smile felt more forced this time. “Yes, Carol. I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings. I should have been more… sensitive. I want you to know that I am truly sorry for your loss.”

Carol looked between the two, sizing up the clearly fabricated apology. Zosia’s puppy dog eyes kept Carol from speaking her mind. She shrugged, her lips a thin line. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Professor Diabaté seemed just as annoyed at having to give the apology as Carol was at receiving it. But Zosia let out a sigh of contentment, pleased with the partially buried hatchet.

Carol took a step to the side, and threw the door wide open. “Alrighty, well, we’d like to have our lunch in peace, so…”

Professor Diabaté reluctantly shifted his weight off of the desk. “À plus tard, ma chérie,” he said to Zosia with a wink.

Carol ushered him out the door, not letting it go on a moment longer. “Yeah, au revoir Casanova.” She closed the door rather forcefully, and sighed in frustration. She turned to Zosia, exasperated. “Can you believe this guy?”

Zosia let out a muted laugh as she returned to her meal, politely taking spoonfuls of couscous and carrots. Carol sat across from her, in her usual spot. She tore into the plastic packaging with brute force, and stabbed at her lasagna with animosity. She didn’t normally get this riled up over Professor Diabaté’s antics, but everything seemed amplified in Zosia’s presence. The nerve he had to sit on her desk, make her smile, and call her sweet names.

“If he annoys you so much, why don’t you just tell him to fuck off?” Carol asked indignantly. “You can tell him to fuck off, you know that, right?”

Zosia merely gave her a knowing look. One Carol was getting used to receiving when she’d go on long, nonsensical rants. She was doing too much. Carol poked around at her food, but her appetite seemed to be lost.

“You’d tell me to fuck off if I was annoying you, right?”

Zosia smiled softly. “I enjoy your company, Carol.”

She couldn’t make herself believe it.

“Well, I just don’t understand why you give him the time of day. You should set some boundaries, you know? Tell him your office is off limits.”

Zosia glanced up from her food, a coy smile playing at her lips. “It sounds like you’re jealous that I have another friend.”

“Jealous? Of him?” She scoffed at the idea, but her cheeks were starting to feel hot, and Zosia’s warm gaze was now searing. “As if! And I can tell you right now, he most certainly doesn’t want to be your friend. Someone as beautiful and well-traveled as you should know that. He’s just trying to find something to stick it in. This whole gentleman thing with the French and batting his eyelashes is just an act. I know you’re too smart to fall for that.” She crossed her arms, feeling she made her point quite clear.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, Carol, I really do. But I think maybe you’re a little quick to judge someone.”

She furrowed her brow. “Well, he’s very… judgeable. And I’ve known this guy for years, so there’s that.”

“Yet, you didn’t know his first name?” Zosia said.

Carol froze. All this time she had known him as Casanova McBoner, or Professor Diabaté if they were in a professional setting. She had pretty much made up her mind about him at their first meeting, when he introduced himself in French and tried to give her a peck on the back of her hand. Beyond that, she had only heard things about him through the grape vine. She never even thought to ask his first name.

Zosia reached out, lightly touching Carol’s hand across the table. “I know you might find this hard to believe, but there are plenty of good people in this world. Not all of them have some ulterior motive. And Koumba may be a flirt, but he’s harmless.” She thought for a beat before continuing. “Are you busy Friday night?”

Carol was caught off-guard. “Uh, no, why?”

“Koumba is having a little midterm celebration. We’re all going out and getting drinks that night, so I thought maybe you’d like to come,” she said.

Getting drinks with Koumba was certainly not how Carol wanted to spend her evening. But Zosia would be there, laughing at his jokes and accepting any drink he offered to buy.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Really?” There was genuine surprise in Zosia’s voice.

“What?”

“Just thought you’d put up more of a fight is all.”

Carol snorted. “Maybe you were a little quick to judge me.”

A bashful smile spread across Zosia’s lips.
_______________________________________________

While she didn’t show it on the outside, Carol was a nervous wreck about going out that Friday. She didn’t know who would be there, or what to expect. She got cold feet on Thursday, and told Zosia she had lost her glasses and couldn’t drive without them. Zosia didn’t miss a beat when offering to pick Carol up, and it only made her anxieties worse. By the time Friday arrived, Carol had gone through every possible scenario in her head, followed by ‘positive thinking’ that Zosia had instructed her to perform.

Carol paced in the entryway. She was instructed to dress casual, but she wasn’t sure how casual was too casual, so she decided on a one of her nice cardigans and a pair of slacks. She spent at least an hour trying to figure out what to do with her hair, and she gave up on trying makeup. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. She was just there to chat with coworkers and act normal. Act like her life hadn’t fallen to pieces, and there was hardly anything left to put back together.

Carol knew on some deeper level that she was being dramatic, but the knock at her door spiked her anxiety, and she was doomed to overthink the rest of the night. Carol smoothed out her top, fussed with her hair, and took a deep breath.

She opened the door with a nervous smile and a stutter in her voice. “Hey there.” Carol quickly scanned her chauffeur. Zosia looked rather dashing in her tight black shirt, and gray waist-high jeans. “You, um, you look nice.”

“As do you,” she said, giving Carol a once over as well, her eyes lingering. Just enough to be noticeable, but not damning. “Ready?”

She wasn’t, but no excuses for staying home came to mind. They loaded up into Zosia’s little blue coupe. Soft music played on the radio, and the faint scent of vanilla lingered on the leather seats. The bar wasn’t far – it was one Carol was actually quite familiar with – but the ride felt like an eternity as her heart thumped in her chest. Carol kept her eyes on the road, and vaguely listened to Zosia’s attempt at small talk. They were at a red light when Zosia’s hand landed on Carol’s knee. A flash of something impure zipped through her body at the touch. It was something Carol hadn’t felt in a long time, but anxiety quickly replaced it.

“You’re going to be fine,” Zosia assured. “No one is expecting you to be anything but yourself.”

Carol swallowed hard, reluctant to believe her. “If I was being myself, I would’ve stay home.”

She chuckled, and slowly returned her hand to the steering wheel as the light turned green. Carol wished she would have held on at least a moment longer.

“You life only becomes your life once you accept that you’ll never be anything greater,” Zosia chirped.

Carol perked up immediately at the familiar phrase from her serious piece of work. “Wait, you actually read my book?”

“Of course I did. Did you think I was lying?”

Carol shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she really thought. Bitter Chrysalis certainly wasn’t well received. It was more a story of self-expression than anything, and wasn’t entirely meant to be relatable to the masses. Much less someone as happy and outgoing as Zosia. The story about a woman throwing away her life’s work in favor of a complete unknown didn’t mesh well with the picture she had of Zosia. What it was she gained from Carol’s nihilistic drama was beyond her.

“If there’s one thing to know about me,” Zosia continued, “is that I don’t like lying.”

“You lied to the dean about…” Carol hated remembering that awful day. “About when I cut you.”

“That was different. You would have lost your job, and then we never would have gotten to know each other. And I am very glad that you gave me a chance, Carol. You’re a good person,” she assured solemnly. But her soberness never stayed for long, and she perked back up again, chipper as ever. “Fun fact, the average person lies about 4 times a day.”

That woman and her fun facts. Carol bit back a smile. She was glad Zosia had stuck around, despite how hard Carol had tried to push her away. Even more importantly, she thought Carol was a good person, and even if it was a lie, it still gave her a warm feeling in her chest. As they pulled up to the lively bar, Carol tried not to think about all of the negative interactions she had had with her peers over the years. With Zosia’s warm presence and her reassuring words, Carol felt confident for the first time in a very long time that people could like her for who she was. And who she was, was a good person.

Chapter Text

They stepped out of the car, the cool evening air carrying the muffled sounds of laughter and music from inside. There were plenty of familiar faces, but Carol only knew some of their names. Just like Koumba, she had never taken the time to get to know any of them.

Carol walked right up to the bar, and flagged down the bartender. “Hey Brian. I’ll have a martini, and whatever she wants.” She gestured to Zosia at her side.

“Oh, I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” She started to fish her wallet out of her purse, but Carol forced her to leave it.

“Don’t you dare. I’m buying,” Carol said. “It’s the least I can do.”

Zosia didn’t argue, and Brian left to fetch their drinks. The bar was more lively than usual, with plenty of laughter and poorly executed Shania Twain on the karaoke machine. A long time ago, Helen might have been up on that stage herself, tipsy and crooning, all while making eyes at Carol. It always came back to her. Helen leaked out of every beer soaked floorboard, and trickled in through the crackly speakers.

Carol all but chugged her drink the moment it arrived, then ordered a second round. If memories were going to haunt her tonight, they’d have to make it though all the booze muddying her thoughts.

“Take it easy,” Zosia warned playfully. “They aren’t going to bite.”

For a brief moment, Carol had nearly forgotten about the other professors. She looked around, and much to her surprise, no one was staring. It was a slight relief. The only person that looked their way was Koumba, who was wading through the crowd, mindful of the drink in his hand.

“He might,” Carol grumbled.

“Zosia, how glad I am that you came.” Koumba greeted, easing up beside her at the bar. He only spared Carol a glance. “And you too, Carol.”

She offered a half-smile, and busied herself with the olive at the bottom of her glass. Professor Diabaté was more than happy to leave her to her own devices, as he chatted up Zosia instead. As expected, after his barrage of flatteries, he tried to order her a drink, which she politely declined.

“I’ve got to drive Carol and I home after this,” she said.

“So, you two are carpooling now?” He eyed the grouch suspiciously. “I suppose stranger friendships have been made.”

Carol gave an exaggerated shrug, feigning indifference. "It saves on gas," she replied, not bothering to add that sharing the ride also made the journey home a little less lonely. Her second drink arrived, and she paced herself.

“Speaking of saving,” Koumba turned his attention to Zosia once more, “how are preparations for your fundraiser going? I bought an excellent pair of running shoes, and I’m excited to break them in.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Not as well as I hoped.”

“What fundraiser?” Carol piped up.

“The Race to End Epilepsy. Participants pay an entry fee to race, and we donate the money to epilepsy research.” Zosia tilted her head curiously, perhaps even a little hurt. “I’ve talked to you about it.”

Carol wracked her brain, but couldn’t recall. Zosia would listen to Carol rant during the entire lunch hour, without offering much of her own input. Now that she was thinking about it, Zosia hardly ever interrupted or spoke up about her passions. Even if she had told Carol about this fundraiser, Carol more than likely steamrolled over the topic. She mentally kicked herself for her lack of interest, and cursed Koumba for bringing up the subject. Carol spoke into her glass, as she pretended to recall the conversation.

“Oh, right, right. The race…”

Zosia finished answering Koumba’s question. “The route we were planning on having the racers take is now under construction. It was available when we applied for the permit, but now the city put the whole process on hold. We’re trying to find a solution, but it’s starting to seem like we might have to cancel the whole event and refund everyone.”

“What a shame.” Koumba rubbed his hand on Zosia’s back reassuringly.

Carol’s eye twitched, and something envious clawed at her chest. His hand all over her made Carol’s skin start to crawl, and she just couldn’t help from inserting herself into the entire situation.

“I know the mayor. I can get the permit sorted out for you.”

Both of her colleagues were surprised to say the least.

“You know the mayor?” Zosia asked.

Carol nodded. “He refinished my driveway a long time ago, before he got into politics and all that. And um,” She cleared her throat, as that ghost came up again. “Helen used to play golf with his wife.” Carol took a long swig from her drink as the awkwardness hung in the air. “So yeah, I’ll get your permit sorted out.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Carol!” Zosia beamed. “You’re the best!”

She gave her colleague a chaste hug, and Carol treasured every second of it. Even the daggers from Koumba couldn’t burst Carol’s bubble. The unfamiliar warmth of being appreciated hit harder than the buzz from the alcohol. Kouba changed topics, and a few other professors stopped by to chat, but Carol was still riding the high. So much so, that she just barely registered Zosia asking her a question.

“Will you sing a song with me?” Zosia asked, pointing to the crowded stage.

Carol scoffed, as if it were the most ridiculous request. “I’m not a singer.”

“I am.” Koumba held up his hand, nominating himself, and singing a few notes as if to convince the two women. “I’ll duet with you.” He winked.

The way it came off sounded like some kind of innuendo, and Carol just had to protest. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just said I’m not a singer.” She crossed her arms, unable to hide her distain for singing in public. “Go on. Sign us up.”

Zosia hopped up from her seat, giddy as ever. With Zosia’s warm presence no longer between them, a chill rushed in over the bar. Carol felt no need to fake a smile for Koumba, and it was clear the feeling was mutual. She was perfectly fine sitting in silence, but Koumba just loved hearing himself talk.

“Is this fun for you?” He asked.

Carol eyed him, her arms crossed. “What?”

“Being a third-wheel.”

Her cheeks grew hot. Be it embarrassment or anger, she was going to let him have it either way. “A third-wheel? Buddy, she’s not interested. If she was, she wouldn’t have brought me along as a buffer, and she would’ve accepted the drink. I thought you of all people would’ve caught on by now, Mister Romance Language.”

Koumba snorted at Carol’s read of the situation, and shook his head. “And what makes you think she’s interested in you, hm?”

Carol was speechless for a moment. Only a moment.

“I – I don’t – There’s nothing going on here, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I mean – really? Jesus Christ…”

Her whole face was burning. She took a sip of her drink, but it did little to cool her off.

“I’m not criticizing you for having a crush on her. I would be a hypocrite if I did.” He stirred his drink with his straw.

“I don’t have a crush on her,” Carol reiterated.

“Well good. Because she’s married, and you most definitely aren’t her type.” He knocked back the rest of his drink.

Despite all of her denials, Carol’s heart sunk. “What do you mean?”

Koumba glanced over his shoulder, ensuring Zosia was far out of ear shot. He leaned in closer, and spoke quieter. “I did some digging into her social media. She doesn’t post much except all the stupid charity stuff, but her cousin has a bunch of family pictures, so I was looking on her page.”

“Creep, but go on.”

He ignored the comment. “There were photos of Zosia from a couple of years ago at an engagement party. Her engagement party.”

Carol swallowed hard. “Show me.”

It took Koumba only a moment to pull up the evidence. Carol snatched the phone from his hand, and scrolled through the series of pictures. Sure enough, there was Zosia in a long, champaign colored gown, smiling for the camera. She was in some fancy venue with marble statues and a fountain at the center of the atrium. Zosia was laughing and smiling alongside what Carol could only assume were family members and friends. There was a banner hung on the wall, with emblems of wedding bands and toasting glasses, but she couldn’t read the foreign writing.

“This could be anyone’s party,” Carol scoffed.

Koumba, as if anticipating her reaction, took his phone back and scrolled a little farther. He smugly returned it to Carol’s sweaty palms, and her eyes widened. At the forefront was a beautiful white cake with intricate piping and flower petals. Behind it, illuminated by candle light and camera flashes was Zosia, radiant as ever. And beside the angelic being, with an arm around her waist, was a man. A tall man with a neatly trimmed beard, a thick head of dark brown hair, and a well-tailored suit. He was smiling even bigger than Zosia.
Carol scrolled to the next photo, out of denial more than anything. She just barely caught a glimpse of them kissing, and she shoved Koumba’s phone back into his hands.

“So, she’s married or whatever.” Carol sat back in her seat, arms crossed and heart empty. “Why do you keep flirting with her then?”

Koumba shrugged and leaned against his fist. “I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

“So, they broke up?” She asked a little too quickly.

“Maybe. Perhaps they’re still together, and she’s just stepping out. I’ll let you know my findings when she puts out for me,” he said with a wink and a cocky grin.

Carol smacked his shoulder, but he seemed to be relishing just how much he got under her skin. Koumba caught sight of Zosia wading back over through the crowd. He cleared his throat, and both him and Carol straightened up. Back to playing nice.

“Now please tell me she hit you for a good reason.” Zosia teased as she hopped back up into her seat.

“You know me, ma chérie. Speaking before I think,” Koumba said.

Carol mumbled an insult into her glass, and took a sip to stop herself from saying anything more. She mostly tuned out of the conversation as she thought about Zosia’s husband. While Carol didn’t have a taste for men, she had eyes, and he was a very handsome man. Surely he was a scholar as well, or some kind of male model, or politician. Zosia was such a spectacular person, he’d have to have a lot going for him to be on her level. Carol on the other hand, was a washed-up romance author with a drinking problem. She was nowhere near as tall, hairy, or manly as the guy kissing Zosia in the pictures. Koumba was right about something for once. She most certainly wasn’t Zosia’s type.

Carol suddenly realized she was comparing herself to the idea of this man. Why he bothered her so, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She wasn’t interested in dating again, let alone pursuing a younger woman so far out of her league. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Zosia had met the love of her life, and Carol’s love was buried six feet under. She was just envious of Zosia still having her forever person. That had to be it.

Carol’s third drink had just arrived when Zosia’s phone began ringing. She glanced at the caller ID, and her smile fell.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” she said solemnly as she got out of her seat.

The shift in her energy was palpable.

“Is everything ok?” Carol asked.

Zosia didn’t have an answer for her. She pushed through the crowd, and took her call outside, leaving the two at the bar completely clueless.

“That was weird,” Carol commented.

Koumba shrugged, and hopped up from his seat as well. “Maybe it’s her husband asking where she is.”

Carol shot him a look. “And where are you going?”

“To mingle, Carol.” He laughed as he walked away. “I’ve enjoyed your company, but alas, I am bored. Tell Zosia to find me once she’s available.”

That was the whole reason Carol came. To mingle. To get to know her colleagues, and understand them on a deeper level. But even sitting before the crowd of faces, Carol felt no desire to sail out into uncharted waters. Her drink arrived, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes were glued to the door, just waiting for Zosia to come back. As it turned out, Professor Rybak was the only person Carol wanted to get to know that night.

She bounced her leg, head swiveling between the door and the karaoke queue. There were only two more songs before their duet. She knew Zosia would be upset if they missed their turn and had to wait another hour, so Carol decided to let Zosia know it was almost their time to shine.

She could hear her before she could see her. Zosia’s voice was harsh in a way Carol had never heard before, as she berated the person on the phone in her native tongue. Carol watched as Zosia paced beneath the streetlamp, flustered and infuriated. It wasn’t until she stepped a little closer that it became apparent that she was crying. Clearly the phone call was meant to be private, but as soon as Zosia caught sight of Carol lingering in the doorway, she swiftly ended the conversation.

Carol knew she should have retreated and offered a moment of privacy, but Zosia’s tear-stricken face made it impossible to walk away. “I’m sorry…” Carol cautiously approached. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just – our song is up soon…”

Zosia fidgeted with her phone in her hands, foolishly attempting to compose herself. “I, um… I don’t really feel like singing, Carol.” She tried to smile, but a grimace persisted.

Carol took a few more steps forward. “Is everything ok?”

The question nearly broke her entirely, but she managed to hold back the floodgates. All Zosia could do was shake her head, and keep her gaze fixated in the distance. Carol wasn’t good at consoling. When emotions were running high, her dry sense of humor didn’t go over well. And perhaps she should have bowed out to let Zosia calm down and return on her own volition. But some unknown force drew her in closer and closer, until Carol found herself pulling Zosia into a tight embrace.

Zosia stiffened at first, caught off guard by the unexpected comfort, but after a moment she melted into Carol's arms. Soft sobs forced their way past her lips, and Carol pulled her closer, hoping Zosia felt that same relief she herself had given Carol during her moment of weakness. Neither spoke, but the embrace said enough. Carol would hold her together until Zosia was ready to face everyone else again. It took a while for her sobs to dissipate, and her breaths to become even.

“Thank you,” she murmured against Carol’s shoulder before reluctantly pulling away. “I didn’t mean to put a damper on the night like this…”

Carol swiftly shushed her. “Hey, I’m the wet blanket of the bunch. I’m like, the last person you should ever have to apologize to.”

It earned her a faint chuckle. Faint, but earnest. The reason for the upsetting phone call was the last thing on Carol’s mind. She was far more absorbed with fixing Zosia’s mood. To see her upset like that was jarring.

“So, you don’t feel like singing, hm?”

Zosia merely shrugged.

A sly grin graced Carol’s lips. “That’s alright. I’ve got a replacement in mind.”

She turned on her heel, and marched right back into the bar. Zosia followed behind, out of curiosity if anything. The aforementioned duet partner was not hard to find. The table with the most women was like a magnet to Professor Diabaté.

“Koumba.” Carol beckoned him over.

Zosia’s presence convinced him to leave his table of eligible bachelorettes, but he wasn’t prepared for Carol to take his hand. Much to his dismay, she dragged him away from all of the beautiful women, and pulled him right up on stage as the DJ was announcing the last call for Carol’s performance.

She shoved a microphone into Koumba’s hand before he could protest, and quickly whispered in his ear as the instrumental began. “You wanna impress her, then put on a show.”

Carol was grateful she at least half-way knew the lyrics to the song Zosia had queued up. While Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield certainly wouldn’t have been her first choice, it was easy enough to get the crowd to sing along. But honestly, Koumba was doing most of the legwork. He took Carol’s advice about putting on a show to heart, and sang like he was trying to impress Simon Cowell. His offbeat dancing was interesting to say the least, and while he may have ripped his pants while attempting the splits, it did earn him quite a few wolf whistles from the table full of ladies.

But Koumba making a fool of himself was nothing compared to Zosia’s smile returning. She bobbed her head out in the crowd, and even started singing along. She burst into laughter at Koumba’s unfortunate attempt at the splits, and she gave a standing ovation once the song was over. Carol ignored all of the praise as she quickly deserted the stage, and pushed her way through the crowd, back to Zosia’s side.

“That was spectacular,” she admired, unable to contain her laughter.

“Who knew Koumba could dance, right?” Carol added. The star of the show was close behind, tying his jacket around his waist to conceal the rip in his slacks. Carol gave him a hard pat on the back.

“You’re all very lucky,” he said, cinching his jacket tight. “Most ladies pay for that kind of performance.”

Alcohol was the only thing Carol could think to blame, as she found herself laughing at his joke. But truthfully, she didn’t have much of a buzz, which was pretty foreign nowadays. Besides, Carol wasn’t the one who needed to unwind after all.

“Zosia, let this sad excuse of a man buy you a drink. I’ll get the next one,” Carol offered.

She was caught off-guard. “Oh, I’m flattered, but – “

“I’ll drive you home. I can just take an Uber.” Carol said. “I don’t even have a buzz, but you, Zosia, could use a little intoxication.” She turned to Koumba. “Am I right?”

As expected, he was quick to agree. Zosia mulled it over for a moment before caving to the peer pressure. She bit back a smile as she fished out her car keys, and handed them over to Carol.

“Just a few drinks.” Zosia appeased.

Koumba was already running to the bar. “After we do some shots, ma chérie!” He called over his shoulder.

Zosia looked down at Carol, eyes narrowed, yet soft. “You don’t have to fake having fun for my sake.”

Carol didn’t feel anxious at the accusation in the slightest. “Who said I was faking it?”

___________________________________________________________________

“Are you sure this is your place?” Carol asked as she shifted the little blue coupe into park. The apartments certainly weren’t the nicest ones in Albuquerque.

“I’m surely sure.” Zosia slurred as she fumbled with the door handle. It popped open, and she would have tumbled out onto the concrete if it weren’t for her seatbelt.

Carol cut the engine and rushed over to untangle her. A few drinks had led to quite a few more. Zosia turned out to be a bit of a lightweight, in spite of her Slavic heritage she had boasted about while taking shots with a straight face. Zosia did manage to get up on the karaoke stage with Carol shortly before closing time, but it was less of a duet, and more of Carol struggling to keep her upright. Koumba had offered to drive Zosia home, but Carol didn’t entertain the idea in the slightest. He was drunk as well, and the last thing Zosia needed was that sleazeball trying anything.

She helped Zosia to her unsteady feet, and ushered her over towards the apartment complex. It took a coordinated effort to make it to the second floor, and a great deal of patience to find the right door.

“Ah, this is me.” Zosia patted the door number.

Carol swiftly unlocked the apartment, but she hesitated as Zosia shuffled in. She couldn’t, in good conscience, just leave her to trip over something else. God forbid something horrible happened. Carol was sure, even sober, Zosia would happily invite her into her home. So, she stepped inside, and flicked on the light.

Despite the outward appearance of the building, her apartment was quite inviting. The warm light revealed a lived-in coziness. Piles of books on every surface, a knitted throw draped over the couch, and the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air. Carol helped Zosia kick off her shoes at the threshold, steadying her as she wobbled. It was an awkward little dance, and they both laughed at it.

Zosia looked over towards the kitchen, and her eyes lit up. “There he is! The man of the house!”

Carol thought for sure her heart stopped beating. The man from the pictures. She whipped her head around, praying he wouldn’t curse her out for Zosia’s state, but there was no man to be found. The only living creature in the kitchen was a fluffy orange cat snoozing on the counter, aloof to the late night shenanigans. Carol breathed out all of her panic, as Zosia stumbled over to greet her pet.

“Oto jesteś, mój drogi chłopcze,” she said in a baby voice, scratching his chin. “Carol, this is Rudy, najlepszy chłopak!”

Carol cautiously entered the kitchen, watching down the hallway for any sort of movement. “Cute. Is there anyone else here? Or just the cat?”

“Only my sweet baby boy.” She gave him a few smooches on the head before leaning on Carol for balance. “Do you like cats?”

“I guess.” Carol shrugged. Zosia’s weight pressed against her was weirdly electric. “How about we get you laid down. You’ve had a pretty crazy night.”

She allowed herself to be led down the hall. “Bedroom.” She nodded in agreement.

Her room was just as welcoming as the rest of the apartment. Many certificates and travel photos adorned the walls, a trellising plant covered the window with tendrils reaching for the ceiling, and a few different outfits were laid out on the lavender duvet. Carol helped Zosia ease onto the bed, and the springs sighed as she sat.

“You’re a real good friend, Carol.” She slurred as she tilted her head to look up at her. “You’re a sweetie pie, and if we weren’t coworkers, I think we’d still be the best of friends.”

That glassy stare, and those rosy cheeks were a dead giveaway that it was a drunken ramble, but that didn’t change the fact it gave Carol the warm fuzzies. She let herself pretend it came from a place of deep respect, and not a fifth of vodka.

“I think we would too.” Carol humored. “Is there anything else you need? Probably some water?”

She squeezed her eyes tight as she tried to remember something. Her eyes flew open as it came to her. “Oh! My medicine! In, um, nie pamiętam, the wall door. The bathroom wall door.”

Carol thought for a beat. “The medicine cabinet?”

“Yes! The blue pills!”

It was only a one-bedroom apartment, so the bathroom was easy to find. Rummaging through Zosia’s medicine cabinet felt like an invasion of privacy, and even with permission, she didn’t feel right doing it. Still, whatever medicine it was must have been important enough to break through that drunken stupor, so Carol pushed past her discomfort.

She looked behind some makeup remover and ibuprofen, and quickly located the blue pills. Carol couldn’t help but look at the name of it, but the prescription written on the side only left her with more questions than answers. It was an anti-seizure medication.

Carol knew better than to bring it up, so she fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and made her way back to the bedroom. But what she found there left her more shocked than the little blue pills.

Zosia was wriggling about on the bed as she struggled to take her pants off.

“Carol…” She whined out her name so sweet. “I can’t get this fucking things off…”

Whatever shade of red that adorned Carol’s cheeks before was now much deeper. She set the water and pills down on the nightstand, then warily offered a helping hand. “Ok, let me help, just hold still.”

Zosia went limp against the mattress, and surrendered to Carol’s careful assistance. Her gratitude was clear even through the haze. Carol struggled to find a safe place to rest her eyes. That drunken gaze was far too enticing, her chest was treacherous, and those thin black panties ignited something Carol had been trying to ignore.

So, she elected to close her eyes, and she wiggled the limp noodle out of her jeans. Carol felt around for a blanket, and quickly buried that beautiful figure beneath the linens. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Your medicine.” Carol handed over the goods, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

Zosia was far too inebriated to recognize Carol’s strange behavior, or the blush that ravaged her face. She simply took her medicine with a big gulp of water, and fell back against the many pillows. She reached out, and took Carol’s hand, playing with her fingers. “You’re so pretty…”

Carol was still as a statue. “I should go.”

Zosia grabbed her hand tight, fear leaping out of her mouth. “Don’t go! I don’t want to be alone.”

Carol hesitated, torn between her own discomfort and the raw vulnerability in Zosia's voice. She sat down gingerly on the very edge of the bed, her heart pounding. “Ok. I’ll stay.”

She giggled and kicked her feet beneath the blankets. “A slumber party!”

Carol shushed her. “Try to sleep.”

Zosia’s eyes were heavy, and she yawned. “Sleep, yes, I can sleep.” She curled up against Carol’s side, her breaths slowing. She mumbled into the blanket, almost inaudible. “You’re too good to me.”

“I think you’ve got that the wrong way around.” Carol whispered. Her comment fell on deaf ears, as Zosia had already fallen into a drunken slumber.
Carol examined her features, closer than she had been before, and unafraid of staring for too long. She had faint smile lines that softened in her sleep, a piercing scar on her nostril that had closed up long ago, and the suggestion of freckles beneath a thin layer of foundation. In a moment of weakness, Carol reached out and felt a strand of that soft brown hair with her own fingers. She rolled it between her thumb and pointer finger for a moment, remembering the way it pressed against her cheek when they hugged. She tucked the strand behind Zosia’s ear, then traipsed her fingertips down her neck and over her collar. Zosia’s plea for company felt all too familiar, as did the fluttering in Carol’s chest. As it turned out, Koumba was right about two things that night.

Carol listened to her brain – which seemed to be the only rational organ in her body – and caught a cab home.

Chapter Text

The grainy music was about to drive her insane. Carol paced about her living room as she sat there on hold. The line would go silent for a beat, and just when she thought someone would pick up, it was the same automated message.

“Hello, you’ve reached the City of Albuquerque’s mayor’s office. We are currently experiencing a high volume of calls. Stay on the line, and a representative will be with you shortly. If you would like to leave a message, press one. Para escuchar este mensaje en español – “

Carol pressed one, and waited for the beep. “Hey, this is Carol. Carol Sturka. Um, I don’t know if you remember me, Mr. Keller, but I had a favor to ask. Just uh, call me back when you have a chance. Thanks. Bye.”

She hung up, but had no faith in the message. It was the eighth one she had left. She plopped down onto the couch, and racked her brain for ideas. It was the weekend, so the mayor probably wasn’t in his office anyway. But even if he did pick up, it wouldn’t change the fact that Carol had drastically overstated her relationship with Mr. Keller. She had never really spoken to the man, and Helen was the one that knew his wife.

Carol pulled up her very short log of text messages, and clicked on Zosia’s name. They hadn’t spoken much outside of work. The midterm mingling at the bar was the first time she had ever seen her off campus, let alone seen her house. Needless to say, their conversation history was incredibly brief.

-----------
Yesterday at 4:09 PM
Zosia: Hello Carol!! You left in such a hurry, I forgot to get your address LOL
Carol: 1208 Moqui St NW
Zosia: Awesome, got it!! I will see you at 6!! 😊
Carol: k see u then.
------------

Carol’s thumbs hovered over the keypad. She thought to check on her, and make sure she survived the night. But then again, she could still be sleeping, and Carol would feel just awful for waking her up. Maybe she was upset Carol hadn’t spent the night like she promised. Surely she would be furious to also find out Carol had lied about the strings she could pull in the mayor’s office. Maybe Zosia wouldn’t even answer.

It was easier to let things be and ignore that fluttering in her chest. No matter how fast Carol’s heart raced, anxiety was chasing it right along. Carol clicked out of her messages with Zosia, and the feeling passed. Sat just below Zosia’s name was Helen.

Neither spouse was much of a texter, so the last dialog they had had was from a week or so before Helen’s passing. Carol had read through it nearly a hundred times, looking for clues into Helen’s psyche. But more than anything, she liked to reminisce about having another living person in her house. A person to keep her moving and motivated. To keep her company. Helen made the whole house breathe, but now the never ending silence was suffocating. Her absence occupied every empty chair, and filled every crack in the plaster. The string of texts was one of the only escapes Carol still had from their dying house. She could send a message into the void, and maybe somewhere, in some other universe 600 light years away, Helen was reading it.

Carol clicked on the conversation, despite already having it committed to memory.

-----------------
Wed, July 9 at 2:13 PM
Helen: Hey, I’m at Sprouts. Need anything?
Carol: oat milk and maybe stuff to make that lemon cake again
Helen: I thought you were giving up on that…
Carol: i wont burn it this time
Helen: That’s what you said last time. You ruined my good pan.
Carol: i’ll buy you a hundred good pans when Bloodsong becomes a best seller
Helen: Gotta write it first babe
Carol: and some lemon cake would really inspire me!
Helen: You get one last chance. That’s it.
Carol: love you too
Tue July 15 at 1:12 AM
Carol: answer the fucking phone
Carol: theres cops here
Carol: where are you?
Carol: hello?
Mon July 28 at 3:43 AM
Carol: i miss u ples come hom
Fri Aug 1 at 2:01 AM
Carol: i’ll tell my mom about us. i’ll tell everyone. i’ll scream it from the fucking rooftops just come home please
Tue Aug 4 at 11:52 PM
Carol: our bed still smells like u
Thu Sep 18 at 5:07 PM
Carol: i just fuck up everything over and over and over again
---------------

The most recent message she had sent still rang true. Each time she thought about giving up, she saw that hopeful smile on Zosia’s face. Carol hadn’t been a good friend, and if she were to redeem herself – make herself worthy of that disarming smile – she needed to get the fundraiser back on schedule. She owed Zosia that much.

Carol managed to pull herself out of the dumps, and came up with a new approach. She may not have been able to reach the mayor, but she knew exactly where to find his wife, Shannon. Carol showered, put on her haughtiest clothes, and took off towards the Country Club.

She herself had only played a handful of times. Most often she found herself at the bar, sipping mimosas in air conditioning, while she waited for her wife to return. Sometimes Helen let her drive the golf cart, but one day, Carol accidentally drove them into the pond after too many mimosas. Carol had to pay for the damages, as well as perform a field sobriety test out in the parking lot for all of the affluent people of Albuquerque to see. Needless to say, Carol received a DUI and a lifetime ban. From then on, Helen went golfing with Shannon alone.

Carol pulled up to the valet and handed them the keys. Half of getting in was acting the part, so Carol stuck up her nose, and didn’t speak a word to the attendant. She received her ticket and snuck in behind an older couple, hoping to slip past the security unnoticed. As it would turn out, those security guards were very good at their jobs, and very good at remembering faces. The door slammed behind her, and Carol was out on the sidewalk.

She paced as she plotted. It was just like the scene in her second novel in the Wycaro series when Lucasia was forbidden from the smugglers den for the crime of being a woman. While Lucasia’s crime was metaphorical, and Carol’s an aggravated misdemeanor, it gave her an excellent idea. Lucasia disguised herself and found a secret entrance.

Carol walked as nonchalantly as she could around the perimeter of the golf course. The chain-link fence was at least six feet high, and she was in no way fit enough to scale it, let alone do so without being caught. Carol walked further and further, watching over her shoulder for any signs of security. She got far enough that the parking lot was only a spec, and the fenceline wasn’t as well maintained. A patch of tall grass grew along either side, and Carol waded into the weeds. She kicked at the base of the fence as she plodded along until she finally found a weak point.

Carol crouched down into the grass and pulled at the fence with all her might. The gap was narrow, but she managed to squeeze through. Her short golf skirt and white polo were no match for the jagged metal and red clay. The back of her shirt was sliced, and her entire front was stained a rusty color. Carol dusted herself off as best she could, and slunk around until she located a couple of older gentlemen chatting on the green. They were of little use to her, but their golfcart was perfect. Carol took a moment to get into character, and she approached them, limping and whimpering.

The gentlemen took notice right away, all rushing to help.

“You alright, miss? What happened?” One of them asked.

Carol spoke with a strained voice. “I was looking for my ball in the rough over there, and I tripped and rolled my ankle.”

“Oh goodness, let us call an ambulance, and – “

“W-Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that bad. I think I just need to rest it. The problem is that the club is all the way over there and well…” she gestured to her perfectly healthy ankle.

“You can take our cart.” One of the men quickly suggested.

Carol didn’t wait for them to change their minds. She hobbled over and hopped in the drivers seat. She thanked them, and peeled off before anyone could notice that she didn’t even have any golf clubs with her.

Shannon was a creature of habit, and if Carol’s calculations were correct, she should be on the fourth hole on the opposite side of the course by now. She sped around sand traps, and weaved between golfers, wasting no time. Sure enough, Shannon’s curly red hair stuck out against the putting green.

Carol came in a little too hot, and slammed on the breaks before she slammed into a tree. Shannon all but jumped out of her skin as the golf cart nearly crashed into her. She clutched her chest, taking stock of who almost killed her.

“Oh God, Carol?” Her mouth hung open. “How on earth did you get in here?”

Carol hopped out of the cart, and Shannon stepped back, clutching her golf club, ready to swing if she got too close. Carol held up her hands, and didn’t move an inch further. “It’s a long story. Shannon, I know we didn’t leave things off on the best of terms, but I need just a minute of your time.”

“Ah, I get it.” Shannon scoffed, and leaned on her putter. Her lips puckered like she had a bitter taste in her mouth. “Helen didn’t want to come groveling to me, so she sent you. Look, Carol, I’m not upset that Helen stopped golfing with me. What I am upset about is the fact that she never returned any of my calls. So, if she wants to come back, I want a formal apology. From her.” She crossed her arms.

Carol hated this part. She had already done it a dozen times. Helen’s mother was the hardest, but that didn’t make any of the other times easy. Carol still had to tell herself sometimes.

“Shannon… Helen died.”

The reaction was always the same. She clutched her chest and gasped, eyes wide, and begged for it to be some kind of sick joke. Carol shook her head, and told the abridged version she had spewed out a hundred times. It wasn’t like the version she had told Zosia. This one was cold and robotic. Like an automated voice telling you to stay on the line, a representative will be with you shortly.

Tears were shed, and condolences were given. The unskippable cutscene was finally over, and Carol could get back to her mission.

“I know you certainly don’t owe me anything, but I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything.” Shannon sniffled. As much as it made Carol’s skin crawl, a favor granted out of pity was still a favor.

“I have this… coworker, and um, she needs a permit for this fundraising race she’s trying to put on. I guess there was some construction, and it got put on hold or thrown out or something…”

“You want me to talk to Tim about it?”

Carol was relieved. “Yes, that would be perfect! It’s next weekend, so the sooner the better.”

Shannon sucked on her plump lips and let them loudly pop. “I would love to help you, Carol. I really would but…” She glanced around the empty field, and whispered as if someone were listening. “Tim and I are in the middle of getting divorced, so we aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

Carol’s heart sunk. “Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

She shrugged. “It’s messy is what it is. You know, you think you know someone just because you’re married to them, and then all of a sudden, they show this ugly side you’ve never seen before. But the thing is, that ugly side, it’s always been there. You’re just so busy being in love, you never see it.” She let out a faint chuckle at the revelation. “Trust me, Carol, don’t ever get divorced.”

Carol put on a pained smile, and made light of the situation. “Yeah, we kind of skipped that part.”

Shannon’s eyebrows shot into her hairline as she profusely apologized. Carol really didn’t care. Dry humor was all she had to cling to, and people like Shannon were always saying something insensitive whether they meant it or not. Carol didn’t just skip out on golfing because of the mimosas. She had a hard time holding her tongue when Shannon and her haughty friends would complain about their husbands. They’d wish they could just be lesbians like Carol and Helen, so their lives would be easier. Carol got a stern warning from her wife after calling their bluff. Demanding that the women kiss her and prove how easy it was to switch teams left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

“I don’t want to put you in this situation, but I’m running out of ideas,” Carol said. “I made a promise, and I really want to keep it. Do you think you could reach across the aisle just this once?” Carol swallowed hard and forced herself to say the next part, even though it went against her morals. “For Helen?”

The ‘dead wife’ card was a cheap shot, but it worked. Shannon called up her soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Hey Tim… yeah, I know but I got – “ Shannon paused to listen, clearly disgruntled by what she had heard. “I don’t need to go through Kim because it’s not about finances, I just had a quick question.”

Shannon paced as she continued. “You remember Helen that I used to golf with?... the one married to the author…” Shannon turned away from Carol and whispered into the receiver like she was saying a dirty word. “The lesbian… yeah, yeah her.”

Carol rolled her eyes.

“I just found out that she passed away.” Shannon clutched her chest again. “Some kind of train accident, can you believe it?… wait, you heard about it? And you didn’t tell me?”

Carol waved her hand to get Shannon’s attention, as the conversation was starting to go off the rails. “The permit?”

“Right, right. Well, Helen’s wife was asking about some permit for a race or something…” She listened for a beat, then spoke to Carol. “The race to end epilepsy?”

“Yes! That’s it!”

Shannon returned to her call. “Yeah, that’s the one… oh… oh… ok I’ll tell her… ok… ok, bye… love you too… bye.”

Carol couldn’t take the anticipation. “Well? What did he say?”

Shannon was a little spacey. It took her a beat to realize what Carol was asking about. “Oh, he said that he already pushed it through on Friday. They should have all the papers corrected by Monday morning.”

Carol decided to take it as a win. She hadn’t had many of those lately, and accepting the fact that she had broken into the Country Club for nothing was a worse reality. By the time Carol finally made it back home, she felt exhausted. She collapsed onto her couch, not worried about her dirty golf clothes. The day had been mentally and physically draining, but ultimately it was worth it. Because although the permit issue had already been settled, Carol proved something to herself. She could put her mind to something she cared about, and make it happen. With the right motivation, she could get off the couch and break free from the life she once had decomposing all around her.

She found herself reflecting on Shannon’s words. The woman was vapid and materialistic, but she had said something strangely profound.

“You think you know someone just because you’re married to them, and then all of a sudden, they show this ugly side you’ve never seen before. But the thing is, that ugly side, it’s always been there. You’re just so busy being in love, you never see it.”

Carol thought back to some of her best days with Helen. They were together for 27 years, so there were plenty of them. That being said, there were countless bad ones as well. She tried to remember the ugly parts that nearly drove them apart. But there wasn’t just the good, the bad, and the ugly parts. There were sad, adventurous, funny, stubborn, romantic, and shameless parts as well. Helen was such a multifaceted person, Carol could never sit down and write out all the different ways she showed up in their marriage. It wasn’t a three-act novel with action beats and romantic undertones. There was no beginning, middle, and ending that could be so easily capture by words. Their marriage wasn’t just a story to sit down and read about. It was a feeling.

Carol pulled up her old text messages to Helen once more. Her fingers glided over the keypad as she sent another message into the void.

-----------------
Sat Oct 11 at 12:08 PM
Carol: I loved every part of you.

Chapter Text

Carol peered into the classroom. There were only a few dozen students, the average a professor could expect for such an early class. Carol herself normally didn’t make it to campus until about nine, but she wanted to pay her cohort a visit and deliver the good news. Professor Rybak had her back to the door as she scrawled on the chalkboard, so she didn’t notice Carol slip in and take a seat at the back.

The ESL class was a very different crowd from the students that normally wound up in Carol’s classic literature or creative writing courses. No one was taking notes, or mindlessly typing away on their computers. They were all enraptured by her words. And if a student asked a question, Professor Rybak spoke like she was talking to a friend. It was casual. Comfortable.

“Very good,” Zosia praised a student as she fielded another question. She continued her reply in Spanish, which Carol knew enough of to understand the gist of what she was saying. “I’ve been fluent in English for twelve years now, and there are still words that I struggle to pronounce.”

“Like what?” A student prompted.

Zosia attempted the word ‘squirrel’ in English a few times, earning some giggles from her students. She laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ok, plenty of words still trip me up. ‘Squirrel’ is a pretty bad one. And ‘rural’ too. I always have to slow down for that one.” The class chuckled. A few students attempted the words under their breath, testing out the sounds for themselves. Zosia smiled, encouraging them. “It’s all about practice, and not being afraid to make mistakes. Let’s all pair up and practice using some of those hard words in conversation.”

Everyone rose from their seats, happily pairing off and practicing their conversational skills. Zosia paced up the aisle, hands folded behind her back as she listened in and offered encouragement. Carol, quietly tucked away in the back, finally caught her eye, and there was a flash of surprise across her face. Zosia glanced at her watch, only to be more confused. She walked over to Carol, her brows furrowed.

“Good morning, Carol. I think you might be a little early.”

“I know.” She groaned as she stood. “I was just hoping to brush up on my English.”

Zosia’s features softened, and she let out a light chuckle. “I think you may be a little advanced for my class, Ms. Sturka. If anything, I could probably learn something from you.”

Carol had a mischievous air about her. “Yeah? How about this one. The truly rural squirrel went to the brewery.”

Zosia bit back a smile, and sized her up. Her voice came out low and provoking. “Oh, so we’re teasing now?”

A shiver ran down Carol’s spine, and her breath caught in her throat. If she were anywhere else, like in a hotel made of ice, buried beneath a pile of furs, she might have considered that flirting. But not here in Albuquerque, with Zosia and her Schrödinger's husband. This was her coworker, and the image of Zosia’s panties, and her needy voice calling out Carol’s name was nothing but drunken shenanigans.

Straight women just seemed to pull her in. Carol had done this dance at least a dozen times before she had met Helen. And while she wouldn’t even entertain the idea of dating again, she couldn’t help the way her body was reacting. Carol was thankful her brain was firing on all cylinders, despite her blood rushing elsewhere. The visceral reaction she had to Zosia’s words and that look she gave her were way out of line. She forced herself to take a step back, and she retreated behind her crossed arms.

“How are you feeling?” Carol asked robotically.

Zosia quickly broke eye contact as well. “I’m fine. Much better than Saturday morning.” She trilled her lips and shook her head. “Can I be honest with you, Carol?”

“Of course.”

She spoke a little quieter, mindful of any students that might overhear them. “I don’t think I’ve been that drunk since I was in college.”

Carol let out a snort. “Yeah, you were pretty out of it.”

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. “Yes, well, I just hope I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself. I have a faint memory of us singing Lady Gaga together, but anything after that is… a bit of a blur. So, I apologize if I was unruly.”

“You? Unruly?” Carol chuckled. “Even shitfaced, you are a ray of sunshine.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was clear something else was on her mind. Whatever it was, she didn’t bring it up.

“I actually did have something I wanted to tell you,” Carol said after an awkward pause. “I talked to the mayor this weekend. Your permit should be all squared away.”

Zosia took Carol’s hand and shook it profusely. “Thank you, thank you! You are just amazing, Carol!”

Her long and dexterous fingers wrapped around her hand, only reminding Carol of the way Zosia fiddled with her when she was drunk. That night when Zosia had leisurely ran her thumb down the length of Carol’s ring finger, and rubbed circles in her warm palm. The goosebumps that prickled up Carols’ arm. The sensation that concentrated below her belt.

And right then, as Zosia finished shaking her hand, she held on a moment longer. Nothing that any normal person would ruminate about. But then Zosia’s thumb trailed across the back of Carol’s hand in that same circular motion, and Carol just had to pull away. Zosia was showing her an innocent moment of comfort, and Carol’s mind perverted it at record pace. Carol cursed herself, and pushed the feeling down once more. It was a betrayal of the only friendship she had.

The rapidness with which Carol pulled away was not lost on Zosia. Her lips turned into a thin line, and she folded her hands behind her back. She looked away like a submissive dog.

The entirety of the situation was awkward, and what made it worse was Carol couldn’t even think of what to say. She’d sooner lie and say she forgot to wash her hands after using the bathroom than admit that even the slightest touch from Zosia was giving her impure thoughts. There was no winning, so Carol just sent a hail Mary.

“I wanna sign up for your race.”

Both parties seemed surprised, but more importantly, Zosia’s mood brightened.

“You do?”

“Yeah, you know, you were just talking about it and um,” Carol cleared her throat, but it remained tight. “I can tell it’s something you’re really passionate about, and I just find that… riveting.”

Zosia smiled warmly, as the awkward air between them dissipated. “Then consider yourself signed up, Carol Sturka.”

___________________________________________

Carol immediately regretted signing up as she pulled up to the starting line. She had no idea there were going to be quite so many people, and as she hopped out of her car and started looking around, she noticed that everyone was wearing purple. Of course, Carol just had to spring for a neon yellow athletic jacket and a pair of jeans. She stuck out like a sore thumb against the violet sea. The park was full of participants all stretching and chatting. Some looked like real professionals, with their armbands and waterskins. Some looked like complete idiots. One idiot in particular caught her eye as he stretched his leg against a wooden bench.

“Didn’t know they let former Olympians participate.” Carol said sarcastically as she walked up to Koumba. “How will I even compete?”

Koumba spared her a glance and an amused smile, but he continued his stretching, bending his knees to and fro. “It’s good to see you too, Carol, but I think you’re lost. The AA meeting is down the street.”

Two could play this game. “Oh, you mean, by the elementary school? The one you need to take a hundred foot detour around?” Carol jeered.

He paused his stretching to meet her jabs. “The only crime I’m guilty of is looking good.” He gestured to his outfit of spandex, then looked her up and down. “You on the other hand, have committed quite a few if I’m not mistaken. How many DUIs do you have again?”

Carol’s eye twitched, and she was running out of wit. “At least I’m not wearing Spanx.”

Surprisingly, that was the joke he took the most offense to. “They’re not Spanx, they’re running shorts. They prevent chafing, wick away sweat, and offer a large range of motion. See?” He stretched to demonstrate.

Carol tried to hear him out, but his bulge was unsettling. She held up her hand to help blot it out of her vision. “I see, alright? Could you at least put on a jockstrap or something? Jesus, the things staring at me.”

Koumba wiggled his eyebrows. “I am wearing a jockstrap.”

Carol wanted to barf.

“Have you seen Zosia?” She asked, still averting her eyes.

He craned his neck, and pointed off in the distance. “She’s over by registration talking to her friends.”

“And you’re not over there harassing her?”

Koumba clicked his tongue. “Ah, Carol. That apple is not ripe for the picking, mon ami. She will sweeten up, but in the meantime, a man has to eat.”

Carol followed his gaze towards a few ladies sitting on a bench nearby. His behavior would have been more abhorrent if Carol hadn’t found his high rate of rejection so amusing. She left him to starve at the buffet, and she waded through the crowd. Sure enough, Zosia was surrounded by at least a dozen other runners, chatting, smiling, and laughing. She had on a tight purple shirt, and matching shorts that were a bit shorter than Carol had expected. Her ponytail swished as she rocked on her heels. Zosia’s eyes lit up when she caught sight of Carol waddling up.

“Carol! I’m so glad you made it!” She turned to the friends she had been chatting with. “This is my mentor I was telling you about.”

Mentor was new. Carol was about ten years her senior, and she had been teaching for the better part of a decade, but in no way did she feel like Zosia’s mentor. Zosia was the cool, calm, and collected one who had been all over the world and spoke seven different languages. Carol was unaccomplished by comparison. She was nobody to look up to.

“It’s nice to have a face to the name,” one of the women said. She glanced at Zosia and gave her a sideways smile. “Zosia told us you’re the one who talked to the mayor and got our fundraiser back on schedule. That’s amazing.”

Carol simply shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

“It is to us.”

“Well thanks.” She fiddled with her jacket. “Just wish I would have known there was a dress code.”

“Nonsense,” Zosia said. “Purple is the epilepsy awareness color, but you don’t have to wear it by any means. You being here is what matters. Speaking of…” Zosia grabbed a paper from the registration booth, and pinned it to Carol’s front. “Here you are, number 339.”

Carol glanced at the numbers on the other runners shirts. Zosia was wearing number four, and none of her friends’ numbers went over thirty. Come to think of it, even Koumba was number forty-one. Carol must have been one of the last people to show up.

Zosia spotted another acquaintance out in the crowd, and excused herself to go and greet them, leaving Carol surrounded by strangers. There were a few polite introductions, but none of the names stuck. Carol just kept craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of Zosia, but she had faded into the sea.

Carol wished she could have just faded into the background like her. Zosia fit in seamlessly. It made sense; she was charismatic, approachable, and sharp as a tack. She didn’t know a stranger, and everyone had a smile resting on their face after she left. Carol’s chest started to feel a little tight as she realized she herself had been charmed, just like all the nameless faces in the crowd. She wasn’t anyone special. At least not to Zosia.

Soon enough, a voice came over a megaphone, instructing racers to take their places. Zosia was lost at sea, and there was only one other familiar face Carol could look for. She found Koumba quite easily in his stupid little shorts. He wasn’t her first choice, or second, or third, but Carol didn’t want to do it all alone. She went to stand by him, but to her surprise, he had found a woman that wasn’t totally repulsed by him. He was chatting her up, and didn’t even notice Carol trying to get his attention.

She wasn’t about to run three miles all by herself. Athletics were not Carol’s forte. She was never into sports, Helen had to drag her on nature outings, and even just sleeping in a weird position left her sore for days. She gave up, tucked her tail, and headed for the parking lot. She was about to open her door when she was interrupted.

“Carol?”

Zosia’s voice made Carol pause. She had followed her all the way to her car, forgoing the race entirely.

“I uh… I think I’m gonna go home,” Carol said.

Zosia’s eyes were full of concern as she searched Carol’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” She struggled to come up with the right words. “I don’t belong here, Zosia.”

“Are you that worried about the purple? Here, you can wear my shirt – “ She started to pull her shirt up over her head, but Carol quickly stopped her. That sliver of skin was enough to bring about that flutter in Carols’ chest, and it made her all the more furious.

“It’s not the fucking purple, it’s – “ Carol took a deep breath and wrangled her temper. “I don’t… make friends easily. And you, you’ve got this whole place wrapped around your finger and I’m just…” She found it impossible to put words to her feelings.

“Alone?” Zosia concluded.

They locked eyes for a beat. She was right. That’s what everything kept boiling down to. Since Helen’s death, everyone in the world seemed happy except for Carol. She never had anyone to lean on, to hold her up, or keep her together when she fell apart. Zosia was the closest thing she had anymore, but even that didn’t feel sacred. Carol was just a face in the crowd of Zosia’s many admirers, while Zosia was the only face Carol looked for. ‘Alone’ didn’t even scratch the surface.

Carol’s silence was confirmation enough.

“Oh, Carol,” Zosia said in a sigh. “You don’t have to do this all alone, alright? I’ll run right by your side the whole way.”

Carol scoffed, refusing to lower her guard. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just hold you back.”

“I’m not here to win, I’m here to have fun,” she chirped. “And I would have the most fun right at your side. I just want you to be happy.” She extended her hand, hopeful and waiting.

Carol hesitated for only a moment, but her brief reluctance was magnified by the last time their hands had touched. Zosia pulled back and balled her hand up by her side. Her voice was apologetic and soft.

“Sorry, I know I’m too touchy.”

That look on her face was a punch to the gut. She never meant to wound Zosia in that way. Intimacy had always been something so rigid and restrained in Carol’s life, it was hard to imagine it being integral to someone else’s. Zosia always seemed to reach out for her. Whether it was a hand on her knee, a pat on the shoulder, or a much needed hug. Zosia craved that casual intimacy, and now she was the one being punished for Carol’s lewd thoughts. But Zosia would give up that part of herself if it meant keeping Carol’s friendship, and that alone was enough for Carol to reach across the aisle.

She looked at Zosia for a long moment, then reached out, intertwining their fingers with gentle care. Her heart was racing, and she did her best to ignore it.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind if you touch me.”

Zosia’s eyes lit up, and she squeezed Carol’s hand, a smile blooming that chased away any lingering uncertainty. It was only human for Zosia to crave connection, and Carol couldn’t blame her own human reaction to it. It had been such a long time since someone was tender with her, and she would take any sort of softness she could get. Besides, Carol couldn’t imagine a life where Zosia never hugged her again. So, even if Zosia’s hand inspired something more than platonic thoughts, Carol kept them to herself out of respect for her colleague. Zosia liked to touch, and Carol didn’t mind that part of her.

They finished the race in dead last, hand in hand.

Chapter Text

The last thing Carol expected to see when she walked into her classroom was Miss Rybak up on the desk with her ass in the air. She was looking down over the edge, as if she had dropped something, oblivious to her coworker staring. Carol had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. To make things even worse – or better, if Carol could be honest with herself – her skirt was riding up.

Carol padded down the aisle, and cleared her throat. “Hoping for some extra credit?”

Zosia startled and sat erect, sending some papers fluttering to the floor, but she refused to get down off the desk. Her eyes were wide, fearful and frantic. “Carol! There’s a mouse! A big fat mouse!”

Carol whipped her head around wildly. “Where?”

“It was over there! Under the trashcan!” Zosia pointed.

Helen was the one who always got the creepy crawlies while Carol stood on a chair. But she wasn’t about to show her fear in front of Zosia, so she put on a brave face, and stalked up to the trashcan. She could do this. For Zosia. Surely it wasn’t as big as she made it out to be. It was probably just a little field mouse that snuck in. Carol inched the trashcan to the side, slow and cautious.

She let out a shriek as an enormous rat sprinted out and ran between her legs. Carol clambered up the desk, and Zosia pulled her right on up, surprisingly strong for her thin frame. Zosia clutched her close, holding her jacket in her balled fists.

“Holy shit!” Carol exclaimed, struggling to keep her feet up on the crowded desk. “That’s a big fucking rat!”

“I told you!”

Zosia’s grip tightened as the rat disappeared under the bookshelf, its tail flicking behind. For a moment, the two professors just stared at each other, legs curled up and hearts pounding. Carol tried to laugh off her fear, but her voice came out shaky. “Well, guess we’re staying late.”

She wasn’t exactly in a rush to get home anyway. It was the day before Thanksgiving break, and she didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. Any of her living family members were assholes, and she hadn’t spoken to them in years. Helen’s mother had invited her over, but she couldn’t bear the constant sorrow that was sure to overshadow the meal. She planned on celebrating at home with her closest friends, Chardonnay, Smirnoff, and Jack Daniels. If she could get away with being too drunk to remember how quiet her house was, she’d consider it a good holiday.

“What do we do?” Zosia asked. She was shaking, and holding Carol in a white knuckle grip.

“I don’t know…” She looked around. “We can just book it for the door – “

“No. No, no, no.” Zosia shook her head, a haunted look on her face. “Carol, I don’t think you understand. I’m terrified of mice.”

“Well, technically it’s a rat – “

“I don’t care what it is, it has big teeth and creepy little eyes…” She visibly shuttered. “I’m not getting down until it’s gone.”

Carol trilled her lips. She certainly wasn’t getting down to get it. “Maybe we should call someone.”

Professor Diabaté wasn’t exactly the ‘someone’ Carol had in mind, but he was the first person Zosia thought to call, and he answered after the first ring. He waltzed in with that smug look on his face and his chin held high. He tossed his blazer onto a chair, and pushed up his sleeves.

“Bonjour les beautés! Oui, oui, your hero is here, hold your applause.” He started peering under chairs. “Where is the little bastard?”

The two women pointed to the bookshelf. Koumba stroked his chin as he devised some kind of plan. He reached for a heavy book, and felt the weight in his hand for a moment. Satisfied, he cocked it back, and started scootching the bookshelf to the side.

Zosia gasped. “Don’t smoosh it!”

“Yeah,” Carol piped up. “You are not getting rat guts all over my copy of Atlas Shrugged! Use War and Peace.”

He started to swap the novels, but Professor Rybak wasn’t having it.

“No, you can’t kill it!”

Carol scoffed. “I thought you hated mice?”

“Technically, it is a rat.” Koumba added.

“Just because I’m scared of it doesn’t mean I want it to die. Just catch it, and we can find some kind of rat sanctuary for it.”

Carol and Koumba shared an unamused glance. He let out a heavy sigh as he looked around for something to catch the beast. Koumba picked up the trashcan and dumped its miniscule contents onto the floor. With the small wire basket in one hand, and the bookshelf against his shoulder, he heaved and prepared to catch. The rat was prepared as well, and when it skittered out, Koumba’s tough guy act completely disintegrated.

He squealed even louder than Carol as it ran across his foot. Koumba took a bounding leap, and scrambled up onto the desk. The two women heaved him up, and all three were left standing there.

“Where did it go?” Koumba asked breathlessly, a tremble in his voice.

They all looked around, but the rat had once again disappeared. Carol and Koumba argued over the best course of action while Zosia did her best to stay calm and keep the peace. Meanwhile, the marooned professors had caught the attention of someone walking by. The janitor poked his head in, confused at first, then agitated by the garbage all over the floor. He wheeled in his trash barrel, and started sweeping up the bits of paper and punch holes into his long-handled dustpan.

“If I had to guess, it’s under the desk.” Koumba concluded.

“Well then why don’t you check, Mr. tough guy?” Carol sneered.

He tried to lean over, but the desk was far too crowded. Carol had finally had enough, so she sucked it up and jumped down. The moment her feet hit the floor, the rat took off once more, and everyone panicked. Everyone except the janitor. He watched the rat running towards him, and without missing a beat, he popped open his dustpan and knocked it straight in with his broom. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he snapped it shut, and the rat squeaked and clawed at the plastic.

Carol, Koumba, and Zosia let out a collective sigh of relief, their embarrassment eclipsed only by their gratitude.

“ ¡Manousos! ¡Nuestro héroe!” Zosia cheered as she gave him a round of applause.

Manousos didn’t seem to care for his round of applause, and neither did the two wannabe heroes. If anything, Carol felt a little embarrassed that she had never learned his name. He had been cleaning her classroom for years, but they only ever saw each other briefly at the end of the day. In her defense, Manousos wasn’t exactly the type to stop and chat.

“Falta uno en el laboratorio de ciencias. Lo devolveré,” Manousos said flatly.

“Gracias.” Koumba hopped down and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. It was ill received, but he didn’t seem to notice. Koumba turned to Carol. “For the American, he’s returning the science department’s test subject.” He feigned a whisper to Manousos. “Ella solo habla inglés.”

“Actually, I know a little sign language too, buddy.” Carol was about to flip him off, but Zosia caught her hand, and held it at her side.

“Behave,” Zosia whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

The breathy order against her ear did an embarrassing amount of damage to Carol’s resolve. She couldn’t help but obey, and file away those feelings it gave her. Ever since the race, Zosia had been far more hands on. There was always a rub of the shoulder, a squeeze of the hand, or a nudging of the knee. Carol was really trying her best to respect Zosia, and not let those feelings turn into anything else. It was just biology. A reaction to a stimulus. Something she couldn’t control.

But she could control her actions, and she wouldn’t dare try anything that would ruin their friendship. It was still so new, and Helen’s absence so raw that any actions on Carol’s part felt like a betrayal to both parties. So, she did as she was trained to, all the way back to her days at Camp Freedom Falls. She held steady until those urges passed. It was for the best. For everyone.

Koumba tried to offer to buy Manousos a drink for his help, but he was very disinterested. He simply took his dust pan and trash barrel, and left without a word.

“Asshole…” Koumba mumbled before returning to his damsels in distress. “Well, you two are welcome. You can make it to your Thanksgiving dinners in one piece.”

Carol was about to make fun of him for squealing like a girl, but Zosia spoke up.

“Not for me. I’ll be at home grading papers all weekend.”

“You don’t celebrate?” Carol asked.

She shook her head, unbothered. “I’ve only been here for a year, so I’ve never really had anyone to celebrate it with. All of my family is in Poland.”

“I feel your pain,” Koumba added. “What I would give to be eating my tantine Awa’s poulet yassa tomorrow.”

While it was comforting to know she wasn’t the only person celebrating alone, Carol was feeling oddly optimistic. Perhaps all of those positive affirmations from Zosia were starting to take root. She was actually rubbing off on her.

“Why don’t we celebrate together?” Carol asked, despite her nerves. “I’ve got plenty of space, and plenty of wine.”

Zosia and Koumba both exchanged a look of amazement.

“What?” Carol asked, her guard up.

“Nothing,” Zosia assured with a smile. “It sounds wonderful, just a little…”

“Out of character.” Koumba finished for her. He pressed the back of his hand to Carol’s forehead. “Are you feeling well? You’re not usually this nice.”

“I’m a nice person, just not to you.” She batted his hand away. “So, what do you say?”

“Thank you, Carol,” Zosia said. “I’d love to come. It sounds far better than spending the night alone.”

“Yes, you had me at ‘wine’.” Koumba hummed.

The date was set. Thanksgiving at Carol’s. The two other professors started planning what dishes they were going to bring, but most of them were unfamiliar to Carol. She assured them that whatever they brought would be fine, and she rummage through the desk to gather up some short stories she needed to grade during the break. She was only half-listening when Koumba asked her a question.

“Would it be alright if I brought a date?”

Carol didn’t even let his words hang in the air before she loudly snorted. “Olympian, and now comedian. What will he do next?”

Zosia was far more polite in her response. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“We’re talking,” he shrugged. “We haven’t exactly had a ‘date’ in the traditional sense. I just want to know if the option is available.”

Carol closed up her drawer and walked back out from the desk. “Yeah, if she exists, sure, you can bring her.”

Kouba nodded, and turned to Zosia without missing a beat. “And how about you, Zosia? Anyone special you’d like to bring to Carol’s?”

Carol held her breath. The question had been on her mind since midterm, but she hadn’t had the guts to ask it. Questioning Zosia’s secret husband felt like an invasion of privacy. If she wanted people to know, she would talk about him, or at the very least, be wearing a ring. And perhaps some small part of Carol liked not knowing. Deep down, she knew the answer, but that sliver of doubt made her heart race.

Zosia was caught off guard, but still maintained her composure with a gentle smile. “No, no one for me.”

Koumba was quick with his follow-up. “I don’t believe it. A beautiful woman like you? You’re sure you don’t have a boyfriend back in Poland? Or maybe a fiancé… husband…?”

Zosia became sober and hesitated to answer. “No. Never married.”

The words that should have been a relief sat in Carol’s stomach like a rock. Zosia didn’t lie. Or at least, she claimed to dislike it. But that photo of her being swept off her feet and kissed so passionately was real. It was burned into Carol’s mind for God’s sake. Yet, here Zosia was, denying the man’s entire existence. But the question wasn’t whether or not the man existed. It was whether or not Zosia was lying.

Carol wanted so desperately to believe she was telling the truth. She looked uncomfortable, but anyone would be with Koumba so eager to know their marital status. He opened his mouth to ask one thing more, but Carol quickly put an end to the interrogation.

“Enough, Koumba,” she warned both with her words and her eyes. “She’s out of your league anyway.” Carol tacked the joke on the end, and thankfully, it seemed to put Zosia more at ease.

Koumba still wasn’t satisfied, but he dropped the subject at Carol’s request, and hurried off to get some ingredients before the store closed. Carol did Zosia one last favor, and did a quick sweep of the classroom to ensure there weren’t any lingering rodents. As she locked up, Zosia gave her hand a quick squeeze before parting ways.

“You’re different, you know?” She scanned Carol’s face, eyes full of warmth. “You’re not the same person you were at the start of the semester. You should be so proud of yourself.”

Carol felt a rush of emotion at Zosia’s words, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. Her searing gaze and firm touch sent a pang down below Carol’s belt, and it derailed her formulation of a thoughtful response. All that came out was a quiet, “Thank you.”

Carol watched her walk off, unable to stop herself from checking her out as she went. The sound of Zosia’s heels clicking against the floor dissipated as she disappeared around the corner. Carol forced herself to turn around and head to her own office before her imagination could run too wild.

She slipped in, and closed the door behind her, as if anyone walking by could see how hot and bothered she was. Carol really couldn’t help it. Zosia ticked so many of her boxes, and that little rasp in her voice when she praised her just made everything worse. Carol sent off a quick email, and powered down her computer. She was eager to get out of there, where she could have her perverted thoughts in the comfort of her own home. Things had been getting pretty desperate, and the thought of pleasuring herself once she got home crossed her mind. Just something to take the edge off.

It had been a long time since she had had any sort of release. She had been stressed out by her Wycaro deadline for months, and then Helen passed away. Her libido was nonexistent after that. That was, until Zosia stirred something inside her. The way she admired her – praised her even. Zosia couldn’t keep her hands off of her, always stroking or squeezing. And who could deny those looks? In fact, she looked quite fuckable when Carol walked in on her with her ass in the air.

The sensation between her thighs was starting to get uncomfortable, and she pressed herself against the corner of her desk to alleviate it for a moment. She just needed something quick. Something to get those damn thoughts out of her head. A shaky breath escaped Carol’s lips as she lowered down. It felt good. Really good. God, she almost forgot what it felt like. She rolled her hips a few times, honing in on just the right spot as a low moan slipped out. She just needed a minute. It wouldn’t take very long. Carol grabbed the desk on either side, and let her hips move on their own accord.

The brackets and braces squeaked and groaned as she moved with more vigor. Carol’s knees started to buckle after only a few thrusts, and she put her full weight down, drastically increasing the pressure. The desk let out a loud groan. Or maybe it was her. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She was starting to get light headed, unable to think straight as she rocked against the desk like a horny animal. All she could focus on in that moment was Professor Rybak’s panties, and how she wished she could taste her through them.

The metal and wood clicked beneath her, like heels strutting down the hall. The sound was almost inaudible between Carol’s panting and whimpering, but it became louder and louder until it stopped right outside her office door. Carol froze, still mounted up on her desk. Was someone there? Was she just imagining things?

The doorknob twisted, and Zosia walked right in.

Carol threw herself from the desk with such force, she nearly tripped and fell to the floor. She stood erect, cheeks flushed and breath shaky. Going off of how wet she felt, there was surely a damning damp spot on her lightly colored slacks. She met Zosia with wide eyes and hands folded in front of her crotch.

“Carol! My goodness, you scared me,” Zosia chuckled as she clutched her chest. Her cheeks were slowly darkening to match Carol’s. “I thought you left already and just forgot to turn off your light. I was going to get it for you so it wasn’t on all break, but here you are.”

“Here I am,” Carol croaked out.

Zosia looked her over for a moment, and Carol thought for sure she was going to die then and there. She couldn’t decipher if Zosia had seen anything. It all happened so fast.

“Are you okay?” Zosia asked, brows knitted in concern.

“Never better, why?”

“Well, it’s just that you’re all sweaty and out of breath.” Zosia pointed. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Carol’s mouth opened to speak, but it took her brain a few moments to get back online. “Yeah, I was just um… moving some furniture around, you know? Trying to spice things up around here.”

“Oh,” Zosia nodded as she glanced around the office. “It kind of looks the same to me…”

She trilled her lips, and feigned aloofness as she glanced around too. “Oh yeah, I didn’t like it, so I moved everything back. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?” She nervously chuckled.

Zosia hummed. Her expression was unreadable. “Well, you have fun, and I’ll see you at your place tomorrow night.”

“Right, right, see you then.” Carol waved.

Zosia ducked back out, firmly latching the door behind her, and Carol collapsed into her chair. The unexpected visitor had scared the horniness right out of her, and with a clear head, Carol finally realized what it was she had done. Shame was the only thing she felt as she listened to Zosia’s heels click down the hall, blissfully unaware of the absolute mess she had made of Carol’s pants and her morals.

Chapter Text

Carol’s house was a mausoleum. Every painting, every knickknack, and every photo held a memory. There was a faded stain on the couch where Helen had spilled her coffee long ago, a crack in the kitchen tile where she had dropped a frozen turkey one Thanksgiving, and a sticky note still stuck to the fridge, reminding her to schedule a dentist appointment for the tooth that was bothering her. The more Carol looked, the more she found. She was supposed to be cleaning up for her guests, but even just scrubbing up dried toothpaste felt like she was erasing Helen’s memory.

It was part of the process – that’s what she told herself. Every widow had to do it, it was just her turn. And judging by the state of her home, a deep clean was well overdo. So, she flipped the couch cushions, slid a rug over the cracked tile, and stuffed the sticky note into a drawer.

As Carol did her lap around the house, scrubbing and dusting, there was one room she avoided. Her bedroom.

It was ground zero for her grief, and she still refused to sleep there at night. The couch had become her makeshift bed, and the coffee table was her closet. But with guests sure to question the strange arrangement, she gathered up her clothes, pillows, and blankets, and stood at the threshold. Carol sat her belongings on the chaise, and lingered a moment longer.

The duvet wore a thin coat of dust, still crumpled from where Helen had been curled up beneath. Her pillow possessed the slightest impression of where her head had laid – the only living proof of her weight that Carol’s arms now struggled to recall. She stalked up, knelt beside the polyester grave, and brought her face as close as she dared. Eucalyptus and mint from Helen’s favorite lotion still clung to the fibers, along with her natural scent, just hanging by a thread. One day, the scent would fade into nothing, but for now, it was the only place Carol paid her respects.

She left the room undisturbed, and closed the door. That was for her and Helen. No one else.

Carol had time to spare before her guests arrived, so she finally sat down and relaxed. She was still troubled by everything that happened yesterday. Between Zosia’s denial of a secret husband, and Carol’s lack of self-control, she felt conflicted. She wanted to believe Zosia and just drop the subject, but it was gnawing at the back of her mind. She just needed to know who he was so she could close this chapter, and reconcile with the fact that thinking about Zosia being single made her all giddy inside. That was a mess she’d unpack at a later date. For now, the elusive man.

Carol looked up the aforementioned cousin’s Facebook account that Koumba had been stalking. She scrolled back through nearly three years of photos, until she finally landed on the engagement party. Zosia really did look beautiful that night. Unfortunately, there was no one tagged in any of the photographs, so she had to get creative. Carol wasn’t the savviest with social media, but she could navigate well enough to pull up the cousin’s friend list, and look for a profile picture that matched the mystery man. She scrolled and scrolled, her heart pounding against her ribs, until finally, she saw him.

Stefan Rybak.

Her stomach dropped as her thumb hovered over his name. She read it back three times. Rybak. The fact that Zosia was lying hadn’t fully settled in before the doorbell faintly chimed through the house. Carol quickly closed out of the app and checked the time. It was still a half hour or so before she was expecting even an early bird. She peeked out the window and caught a glimpse of the little blue coupe parked out front.

Zosia was rambling before Carol even fully opened the door. “Hi Carol, I know I’m early, but my borscht needed to warm up, and I ran out of milk while I was making my chipa guasu. Would it be alright if I finished up here?”

She was wearing a sienna turtleneck and a dark pair of dress pants with matching boots. Her makeup was done far more thoughtfully than she usually did it before class, and her hair was curled into deep brown waves. Her arms were loaded with a couple large pots, while a bag of miscellaneous ingredients hung off her shoulder. Carol took one of the heavy pots, and welcomed her in. Zosia was incredibly appreciative, and a little frazzled as she came inside.

“Thank you so much, Carol. I was going to call, but I figured you were busy getting ready and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother,” Carol assured as she led her to the kitchen, her heart still racing from her discovery.

Zosia unloaded her arms onto the counter, and took to the range immediately. She started up her borscht, then went to the fridge and dug out the milk. She made herself right at home in Carol’s kitchen as she brought it back to life.

“Sorry, I only have oat milk,” Carol said, setting down her pot.

“Don’t worry, that’s perfect. I prefer non-dairy. You wouldn’t believe the things they put in milk. Fun fact, before modern refrigeration, the Russians and the Finns used to put frogs in buckets of milk to keep them fresh.”

Carol grimaced. “Yeah, I’ll stick to oats.”

“Me too.” Zosia started opening cupboards and drawers. “Do you have a baking dish I could borrow? I forgot mine at home.”

Carol grabbed one for her, and wiped out the dust. She hadn’t cooked in her own kitchen in months. Helen was the one who enjoyed cooking, Carol only did it as a means of survival. As of late, she had only been surviving on microwave meals. Even her offerings for Thanksgiving were storebought.

“Are you excited for finals?” Zosia asked over her shoulder as she stirred a batter that was reminiscent of corn bread.

Carol tried to act casual. She leaned against the counter and trilled her lips. “Well, normally I have twice the classes, so this year should be a breeze.”

Zosia hummed. “Yes, that’s right. You know, I’ve heard some whispers about that changing very soon.”

Carol perked up. “You have?”

“Yes, you know Dean Winters’ secretary, Kusimayu? Well, she had mentioned the college receiving a sizable grant from the government, if you can believe it,” she laughed. “It sounds like they’re finally fixing up the Taffler building.”

The Taffler building used to be quite grand until it had had a series of unfortunate events. A burst pipe, black mold, and termites to name a few. The college had shut it down for repairs indefinitely a few years ago. Carol had taught in one of those big lecture halls when Wycaro was first taking off, and she had plenty of energy to lecture all day. After the building shut down, she had begrudgingly moved to her current classroom in the foreign languages hall. It was meant to be temporary, but no one thought the school would ever actually reopen the Taffler building.

“But they’re not having classes there, right?” Carol drummed her fingers against the counter. “I mean, that place has a bit of a reputation now. All of the graffiti, the bugs, and the mold. Not to mention the meth lab that blew up in there a few years ago.”

Zosia shrugged as she stirred in some oat milk. “From what I heard, they plan to put things back the way they were. So, I would imagine that includes classes.”

Carol should have felt happy. It was what she wanted. A good reputation with the college, and her own classroom back, so she could fill the days with something meaningful. So she wasn’t alone with her own thoughts in her house full of ghosts. It was supposed to be a relief, but all it did was put her on edge.

“So, they’ll move me, and we won’t have to share anymore,” Carol uttered.

Zosia paused her stirring, a troubled look about her as she caught Carol’s eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together until just then. Zosia was quick to mask her despair with a warm smile. Yet another thing she was excellent at.

“You must be excited.”

“Thrilled,” Carol said flatly.

Zosia poured her batter into the pan, and averted her gaze. “Well, I’m happy for you. You’re an excellent teacher, Carol. You deserve this.”

The thought of moving to her own classroom on the other side of campus did anything but fill her with joy. She’d have to get reacquainted with all of the snooty professors over there. Just walking across campus to have lunch in Zosia’s office would take up almost all of her break. There’d be no sitting in on each other’s lectures, or chasing rats after class. She wouldn’t get to start her day with Zosia’s smile. Carol felt empty.

Zosia tossed her pan into the oven and dusted off her hands. “There, that should get done just in time.” She glanced around a little, properly taking in her surroundings. “You have a very nice home, Carol.”

She had been spacing off, lost in a million thoughts, so it took her a moment to reply. “Oh, um, thanks. You want the tour?”

Zosia was elated to receive the very exclusive tour of the Sturka residence. There wasn’t too much to see. The living room, the breezeway, the sitting room, the dining room. All the common areas that were vacant more often than not. Carol walked right by her office, but the door was cracked open, and Zosia lingered.

“What’s in there?” She asked.

Carol turned on her heel. “Oh, just my office, nothing special.”

“May I see it?” There was a twinkle in her eye.

“Knock yourself out.”

Like most of the rooms in her house, the office had fallen into disuse. Aside from sitting in there to grade papers on the weekend, she hadn’t spent much time at her desk. But Zosia found the mundane room to be rather exciting. She admired the various awards on the walls, and reveled in the raw brainstorming that was scrawled across the white board.

“Oh, to spend the day inside your mind, Carol…” She said in a sigh as she read the notes. “How many times have you killed Raban now? And you want to kill him again?” She laughed.

“Hey, those are spoilers.” Carol slid the board to the side, but paused as she realized something. “Wait, you read the Wycaro series too?”

Zosia bit her bottom lip and shrugged. “I enjoy your writing, Carol. Even if you are just writing about a sexy pirate.”

“He’s a corsair, not a pirate,” Carol quipped.

“I wasn’t talking about Raban.”

Carol’s heart all but stopped. Was she referring to Lucasia? And even more importantly, had she just called her female character sexy? It could have meant any number of things, but Zosia’s lingering eyes, and her fingertips trailing along the edge of the desk seemed to be a message in and of itself. Zosia’s suggestive look juxtaposed to Stefan’s Facebook account left Carol more confused than ever. She had a million questions she was too afraid to ask, and the moment was gone before she could gain an ounce of courage.

“Is this what I think it is?” Zosia gasped, holding a thick binder with sticky tabs jutting out in every direction.

Carol hurried over and stopped her from opening it, pressing the binder flat against the table. “Now that one actually is a spoiler.”

The writing on the cover gave it away instantly, and Zosia squealed at Carol’s confirmation. “You’re writing a sequel to Bitter Chrysalis? Oh, this is the best news I’ve heard all year! And here I was thinking I’d have to beg you for it.”

Carol couldn’t help but blush from the compliment, as well as the thought of Zosia begging. “Don’t get too excited. I’m not sure I even want to finish the thing.”

Zosia’s expression instantly fell. “You’re joking.”

“The first book didn’t sell like the publisher was hoping. Or like I was hoping. Fans said the pacing was too slow, and that the main character spends most of the chapter getting nothing accomplished.”

Zosia scoffed and put a hand on her hip. “Let me guess, your ‘fans’ were hoping for action and danger that just slaps them right in the face, like the Wycaro series.” She shook her head. “They don’t appreciate the emotional stakes. The slow breakdown of a character’s morals, and the true loneliness that compels them to do things they swore they’d never do. These ‘fans’ you speak of do not appreciate the process of great storytelling.”

Carol blinked a few times. “Wow, you… you described my feelings perfectly.”

Zosia became a little bashful. “Sorry, it’s just something I’m passionate about.”

“I can tell.” Carol thought for a beat as she leaned against the desk. How coincidental it was that Zosia was a fan of hers, as well as her coworker. So far away from her husband in Poland. “Hey, how did you end up in Albuquerque anyway? I mean, you could have picked any city in the world, why settle for a dump like this?”

She clicked her tongue and leaned against the desk as well. “Traveling gets expensive. Greece, Egypt, a few months stuck in Morrocco…” She trilled her lips. “I picked up teaching jobs where I could, but most of it was volunteer work. I was making my way up South America for the better part of a year, and I was just about broke once I reached the States. I got a work visa, and UNM was the first place to call me back. But I’ve really been enjoying my time with you in Albuquerque. I’m not eager to leave.”

Carol hummed, fighting back the smile that wanted to break through. “To think, you could be anywhere in the country if you hadn’t got that call. We might have never even met. It’s crazy how all of this is just one big coincidence.”

“Kismet, they call it in Arabic.” Zosia tilted her head and smiled warmly. “Fate.”

There it was again, that fluttering in Carol’s chest. She had ignored it time and time again. But this time, for a moment, she didn’t force it out. She didn’t change the topic, or say some kind of sarcastic remark to kill the mood. She let it flutter, until she felt it vibrating all the way down into her fingertips. It was then that she realized the feeling wasn’t alien at all. She had felt it once before, about 27 years ago.

The doorbell chimed, and broke them both of their trance.

“My borscht!” Zosia exclaimed. “Oh goodness, it’s probably burning by now!”

She hurried out the door, muttering to herself, but that fluttering never left.

-----------------------------

“I’ve brought the poulet yassa.” Koumba proudly held up a casserole dish. “And for you, my dear host, a gift.”

He handed Carol a bottle of red wine, which she happily accepted. The offering was enough to grant him passage into her home. “No date?” She asked.

He clicked his tongue. “She had a prior commitment.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure.”

Koumba followed her to the kitchen where Zosia was working away. The two greeted each other warmly as Carol rocked on her heels. Koumba was the only one she could tell about her discovery. It was eating away at her, and she just had to get it out. But more than anything, she just couldn’t understand why Zosia was lying to her. Perhaps she really was stepping out, or maybe there was something darker going on that caused her to flee the country. She was starting to feel sick.

“Hey, Casanova,” Carol interrupted. “You want the tour?”

“I would love the tour. Does this include the dungeon and the torture chamber?”

Carol rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time for his antics as she dragged him along to the other side of the house, and pulled him into the guest bathroom. Koumba chuckled nervously at the close quarters and locked door.

“Carol, I’m flattered, but you’re not exactly – “

“She’s lying,” Carol blurted out. She showed him her phone, and the profile still pulled up. “See? He has the same last name.”

Koumba took her phone and looked it over. He started clicking and scrolling around, which made her all the more nervous.

“What are you doing?” She craned her neck to see.

“Research.” He hummed as he made a discovery. “He’s a doctor. One of those nonprofit ones for Doctors Without Borders. Looks like they traveled together.”

He turned the phone back around to show Carol a selfie of the happy couple. Stefan was up close snapping the picture, while Zosia posed up on a rock in front of some waterfall. This was just perfect. A handsome, selfless doctor.

“What’s his most recent picture? Are they still together?” Carol badgered.

“Give me a second.” He scrolled around some more before finding something damning. His eyes widened.

Carol lost her patience and ripped the phone out of his hand. She turned it around, and her breath caught in her throat. She recognized Zosia’s apartment in a heartbeat, and Rudy the cat curled up on Stefan’s lap. It was posted only a month ago.

Carol closed out of the app, and tucked her phone away. Koumba was oddly comforting, with his sympathetic smile and smooth voice.

“I’m sorry, Carol. I know how you feel about her...”

“I don’t feel anything about her,” Carol snapped. “I’m just upset that she lied to me.”

Koumba hummed, unconvinced. “Well, if you ask me, this is proof that she’s seeing someone on the side. Why else would she hide a guy like that?”

That fluttering in her chest had flown away, and now she just felt empty. She could only respond with a shrug. Words were impossible.

“I wonder if it’s another professor.” Koumba tapped his chin. “Or maybe a few of them – “

“Would you just drop it?” Carol said sharply. “Just… just fucking drop it.”

She threw open the bathroom door, and trudged back towards the kitchen. The breath of life Zosia had inspired into the kitchen was sucked right back out when Carol returned.

“How was it?” Zosia asked, looking between the two. “Did she show you the office?”

Carol was too sober and too busy looking for her corkscrew to reply.

“It was riveting,” Koumba smiled, watching Carol out of the corner of his eye.

The conversation carried on in the background, but Carol didn’t care for anything either of them had to say. She retrieved a few wine glasses from the cupboard, and popped open Koumba’s gift. She filled her glass about halfway, then drained it down her gullet. She poured herself a second round, and spared Koumba a glass of his own. He took it in his hands, but neglected to take a drink. Out of the corner of her eye, Carol caught her colleagues exchanging an anxious glance.

“Carol, are you feeling alright?” Zosia asked, idly stirring her borscht.

“Never better.”

Once again, the doorbell chimed. It was the only thing that stopped Carol from knocking back another glass. It was only supposed to be the three of them.

“Is that your date?” She asked Koumba.

“No, it’s mine!” Zosia happily chirped. “I hope you don’t mind, Carol.”

Carol was speechless. First, hiding the man, and now bringing him over? She was so baffled, all she could do was follow Zosia, who was prancing towards the door. But as Zosia threw it open, Carol was relieved to see it was only Manousos.

Zosia happily greeted him before explaining to Carol. “I was thanking him for rescuing us from the mouse, and we talked for a little while. It turned out he had no Thanksgiving plans either, so I invited him. I hope that’s ok, Carol”

Carol shrugged. Another guest was the least of her worries. “The more the merrier.”

“Hermosa casa.” Manousos said as he stepped inside. He was a little overdressed in a bulky blue suit, and he had something wrapped in tinfoil tucked under his arm.

“Gracias. Mi casa es tu casa.” Carol said. She receded back to the kitchen, nursing her glass of wine all the way.

Dinner was dished up, and for the first time in months, Carol’s dining table was put to use. She took her seat at the head of the table, but paid her food little mind. She absently tasted each dish out of politeness rather than hunger. It was all quite delicious, although her boxed stuffing and precooked ham didn’t quite measure up to everyone else’s food. Of course, that could be attributed to theirs being made with love rather than a microwave. She settled back in her chair with her drink, while the conversation carried on around her in Spanish.

The wine took out the sting, but it did little to numb the ache underneath. She felt like she had been led on, at least, emotionally. All those conversations over lunch, midterm spent at the bar, the race, Carol thought they were close friends. It was rare that she let someone in like that, and even rarer that she let herself cry like that in front of someone. Carol had cried on this woman’s shoulder, and lamented about Helen’s passing, yet Zosia couldn’t even tell her the truth. What else could she have been lying about right to her face?

Zosia did Carol the courtesy of translating the conversation, but Carol paid her little mind.

“I was just telling Manousos about how Koumba twisted his ankle at the fun run.” Zosia smiled, trying to goad any sort of response from their host.

Carol just nodded and nursed her drink. Her eyes were glassy, and her appetite was gone.

There was another round of discussion, and Zosia translated once again. “Manousos asked what the charity was for, and I told him it was for epilepsy awareness. He asked if I’m epileptic, which I am, but I’ll be three years seizure free this January.”

Carol simply nodded. It was clear, by the way Zosia’s smile faltered, that she had expected some kind of acknowledgement for her milestone.

“That’s quite the achievement.” Koumba held up his glass. “Santé!”

Everyone joined in and held up their glass to congratulate her, albeit, Carol’s was far more lackluster. She spoke into her glass, her voice muffled, before taking a rather large gulp.

“Unless she’s lying…”

Koumba gave Carol a small kick under the table, but it was too late. Her unfiltered thoughts had already slipped out, and Zosia had a rather keen ear.

“I’m not,” Zosia said, awkwardly trying to laugh it off as if Carol had made a poor attempt at a joke. “Before this, my longest streak was only six months. I’m actually really proud of myself.”

Carol scoffed. Her tongue was lazy in her mouth as she spoke, but the words still came out sharp. “I bet you are really proud of yourself.”

Koumba tried to warn her with his eyes to settle down, but it was futile. Carol only had eyes for Zosia. Beneath Carol’s searing gaze, she warily sat down her glass.

“Carol, is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” She echoed, then laughed sarcastically. “Hmm, I don’t know, how about we ask Stefan if there’s something wrong.”

Zosia’s expression fell right off her face. In fact, she became a little pale as she took the napkin off her lap and pushed back from the table.

“Carol, may I please speak to you in the kitchen?”

“No, you know what?” Carol sat her glass down on the table with vigor, and wine splashed on the tablecloth. “How about we talk right here about how you’re stepping out on your marriage?”

“Excuse me?” Her voice raised ever so slightly – something Carol hadn’t witnessed since that phone call at the bar. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Carol crossed her arms indignantly, and her words slurred in a drunken articulation as she spat them out. “No use in denying. Koumba and I already know.”

“Don’t rope me into this,” he hissed at Carol.

Zosia glanced between the two, both hurt and appalled by the accusation. “You two have been talking about me behind my back? And making up lies, no less.”

Koumba started to hastily backpedal, but Carol didn’t let off the gas. Her belly full of wine was in the driver's seat.

“You’re the one who lied to me!” Her voice started to crack. “You lied right to my face, and said you weren’t married, but you are! He still fucking lives with you!”

“He doesn’t – “

“I saw the pictures of him on your fucking couch! This is all just one big façade!” Carol got to her wobbly feet to meet her closer to eye level. She held the table for balance, ignorant to the tears starting to well in her eyes. “You act all happy, and smiley, and flirty, like everything is fucking rainbows and sunshine, but it isn’t! It’s all just an act for some ulterior motive I’m too charmed to figure out!”

Koumba stood from his spot and intervened. It had gone on long enough. “Carol, that’s enough. Let’s take a walk.” He tried to usher her away from the table, but despite being so much smaller than him, she was incredibly resilient.

“Does Stefan know you’re a big fat liar?” Carol craned her neck around Koumba, refusing to back down. “Did you even like my books?”

Zosia had taken in all of Carol’s words, but for once, she wasn’t taking them well. Tears were forming in her eyes as well, and her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. Her voice was fragile when it finally came out. “You want to know the truth? Yes. Stefan and I are legally married. We’re working through the divorce, which is not in fact all ‘sunshine and rainbows’. He was at my apartment because he demanded to see Rudy even though I really did not want to see him.”

Zosia sniffled, barely holding herself together as she continued. “Bitter Chrysalis is what made me wake up and realize I wasn’t ever in love with him. Or any man for that matter. And I would have told you all of this in private if you would have just asked, Carol. The same way you told me about Helen.” The last few words came out sharp and resentful.

Carol had lost the wind in her sails as Zosia divulged. This man that had been lingering in the back of her mind was just a blight on Zosia’s past. One she didn’t want spread around her colleagues. A story she wanted to tell Carol when she was ready. Carol might have been drunk, but she was present enough to understand the damage she had just done.

“Zosia…”

Carol couldn’t even fathom were to start an apology. But it didn’t seem to matter either way, as Zosia was already heading to the kitchen, flicking tears off her cheeks. Koumba was quick to follow, Carol staggered behind, and Manousos was still trying to decipher what exactly just transpired.

Zosia quickly gathered her things, ignoring the pleas to come back to dinner. Koumba tried his best to keep her, but it was hopeless. Whatever trust had been built between the two women was now shattered. Zosia marched towards the door, a heavy pot cradled in her arm and a bag hanging from the crook of her elbow. Carol lunged forward and caught her hand before she could pass the threshold.

For a moment, Zosia hesitated beneath Carol’s firm grasp. She didn’t turn to face her, but she paused, and that was all Carol needed. She squeezed Zosia’s palm like it was a life preserver. Her only remaining tether to the world.

“Zo… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Carol breathed.

There was a long, dreadful silence. Finally, Zosia drew a shaky breath.

“I just need some space.”

She jerked her hand from Carol’s grasp, and marched right out the door.

Chapter Text

To top off an incredibly shitty weekend, Zosia wasn’t at work on Monday. Carol had been punishing herself enough as it was, and now the time between her lectures were swallowed up by an unbearable silence. While she should have been preparing for finals, she instead found herself staring at the clock, or checking her phone for a message that wouldn’t appear.

Carol was sitting in the classroom, alone with her thoughts, as she waited for her next class to start. She drummed her fingers on the desk, fighting the urge to check her phone once more. It only took a few moments for her resolve to break, and hopes to be dashed.

Carol rarely made the first move. Even when her drunken spats with Helen would get particularly cruel, it was never Carol who came forward and apologized first. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was that deep seeded fear of her apology not being enough. But things between them were never broken for long, and they could go back to bed wrapped in each other’s arms. But this was different. This wasn’t an argument with her wife about who forgot to pull the garbage bins to the curb. This was a coworker who’s boundaries she had crossed, and trust she had broken. There was no curling up in bed and forgetting it in the morning. There was distance. Isolation. The classroom never felt colder.

She swallowed what little pride she had left, took a moment to gain some courage, and called Zosia. Carol’s leg bounced as the phone rang and rang. She thought for sure it was about to go to voicemail until she finally answered.

“Hello Carol.” She sounded exhausted.

“Hey, um,” Carol’s throat was tight, and she tried to clear it in vain, “can we talk? I just… I know you probably hate me now, but I don’t feel good about how everything went down, and I just want to talk. Um, is now a good time?”

There was a pause, and a gentle sigh on the other end of the line. “I don’t hate you, Carol. But after everything that’s happened… I just need a little space.”

She swallowed hard. As much as she hated to hear it, she was just glad to hear Zosia’s voice. “Right, right. I understand.”

“But if there’s anything you need, work related, I’d be happy to help.”

“Well, if you wanted to finish up reading these essays for me, I won’t say no.” Carol chuckled, but the joke didn’t land. The other end of the line was dead silent. “I’ll – I’ll let you go. You get some rest.”

She waited for some kind of goodbye, but there was nothing. Carol hung up, and leaned back in her chair, even more frustrated with herself than before. Even if she wanted to forget about how she had hurt Zosia, the classroom was littered with reminders.

The banner of flags strung up in the back of class, far out of sight, two sets of chalk, with Carol’s being locked in her drawer, and the tape dispenser with Carol’s name carved into the side of it purely out of spite.

She couldn’t believe the way she had ostracized Professor Rybak. Everything about the classroom was unwelcoming, and Carol was the harshest reminder of them all. That look on Zosia’s face – the tears in her eyes. Just when she thought she was getting through to Carol, she just went and fucked it all up again. Carol had to find a way to make this up to Zosia. The first action she could think to take was hanging the banner at the front of class. It was small, but it was something. Proof she could change.

Carol was up on her chair, taping the banner around the edges of the blackboard when she heard the door open.

“Go ahead and have a seat. And before you ask, the test is all essay questions, and I don’t do retakes.” She announced, straining to reach the top.

The voice that returned was much more seasoned than her freshman year students, which she was anticipating. “You run a tight ship, Mrs. Sturka.”

Dean Winters paced down the aisle, hands folded behind his back.

Carol put up her last piece of take and clambered down. “Well, you don’t get redoes in real life, so why settle for it now.” She shuffled in place awkwardly as he quietly observed the room. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

He glanced at the banner, now proudly displayed, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve made a lot of improvements this semester.”

She trilled her lips. “You can thank Professor Rybak for that.”

“I have.” He nodded. “She’s been in my office almost every day, telling me about how good you’ve been doing.”

Carol’s expression softened. This was news to her.

“I’m sure she’s told you about the Taffler building. Heaven knows she’s been petitioning for it,” he said, leaning against a desk. “If things keep going the way they are, you’ve got yourself a spot there as soon as the spring semester.”

Carol’s stomach twisted in an ugly knot, and she lowered her head. “Thank you, sir, but I think I’d prefer to stay here. It’s easier for the students, and well, I enjoy the… amenities over here.”

Dean Winters hummed, then clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid that a shared classroom wouldn’t work. You were hired as a full time instructor, and we expect you to return to a full schedule once your probation is up. It’s in your contract.”

Carol’s heart sunk. There was seemingly no way out of it. She had a thought, and threw it out as a last attempt to make the best of the situation. “If anyone should get a place in Taffler, it should be Professor Rybak. She’s a brilliant teacher, good natured, and she deserves that spot far more than I do.”

He paused, giving her words a moment of reflection. Ultimately, he came to a conclusion, and shook his head. “I won’t deny that she’s been exceptional, but the board only wants tenured professors occupying those rooms. Maybe, if she sticks around for a while, she can earn a spot over there. But for now, it’s just not an option.”

She couldn’t win. There was no room for negotiation. The path was set – the answer absolute. Carol would receive her own classroom, and she wouldn’t have to see Zosia’s smiling face every day.

Dean Winters inched closer. He sat a heavy palm on her shoulder, and there was something emulating pride in his voice. “You should be happy, Carol. You really turned things around. You deserve this.”

It felt like a punishment, rather than a reward. And if it were a punishment, she would certainly deserve it for the way she had made Zosia feel. She nodded absently, with nothing but guilt behind her quiet acceptance. Students started filtering in, and the dean left her with a parting message.

“We’ll have a more formal review at the end of the semester.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Nothing could distract her, and she found herself spacing off during her lectures. By the end of the day, Carol had made up her mind. She drove back out to the familiar apartment complex. She hesitated in the parking lot, torn between her professionalism and her own human emotions. She just needed to get some things off her chest. Get some kind of closure, and get back on speaking terms before the semester ended and their friendship was nothing but a fond memory.

Carol found Zosia’s door, took a deep breath, and knocked. It took a bit before there was shuffling on the other side of the door, and it finally cracked open. The lights were off inside, and she could only see Zosia’s shadow through the narrow slit.

“Zosia, I know you asked for space, but I just had to come over and apologize,” Carol stammered. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of everyone like that. I was just…” She let out a sigh, struggling to find the words.

To her surprise, it was enough to get Zosia to at least open the door. Her state just about broke Carol completely. There were heavy bags under her eyes, her hair was a mess, and she was still wearing her baggy pajamas. Worst of all, her characteristic smile was nowhere to be seen. She stepped to the side and beckoned Carol inside.

They stood in the living room, a wide space between them. There were so many feelings left unsaid, but neither could find the words to articulate it for a moment.

“I… I’m sorry,” Carol breathed out, barely above a whisper.

Zosia nodded, her gaze far off. It was apparent she had lost sleep over Thanksgiving. She looked absolutely miserable.

Carol fiddled with the cuff of her cardigan anxiously. “Are you going to say anything?”

Zosia shrugged, still distant. “What would you like me to say?”

“Anything. Call me an asshole, tell me off, literally anything.” The silence that followed was infuriating. Carol swallowed hard, regaining her composure. “Would it kill you to be mean to me? I feel like I’m going insane.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said apathetically.

“Stop that,” Carol ordered. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be apologizing. You – you should be yelling at me or something. I’m the one who brought up Stefan. I’m the one who made it a big deal just because I…” She faltered slightly, “…because you lied.”

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“No, dammit! Stop being so passive and just tell me to fuck off!” Carol demanded, her voice raising. “Stand up for yourself for Christ’s sake!”

But she didn’t. Zosia couldn’t muster a single ounce of anger in Carol’s direction. She just stared off, eyes glazed over.

“Hello?” Carol shouted. “Are you just gonna ignore me?”

Zosia didn’t reply, or so much as flinch at the harsh tone. Her gaze drifted upwards, a little to the left, inattentive and vacant.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Carol scanned the ceiling, but there was nothing of note.

The energy in the room shifted. Like the excision of a ghost, Zosia let out a horrid, guttural wheeze. Her body became rigid as all the air was forced out of her lungs. Before Carol could even think to catch her, she fell straight backwards and bashed her head against the wooden coffee table.

“Zosia!”

Carol ran and fell to her knees at her side. She cradled Zosia’s head as she jerked in an unnatural way, forceful and rhythmic. Carol held on tight, completely unprepared. She was having a seizure.

911. Carol had to call 911. She reached into her pocket, only to find it empty. She left her phone in the car. Her mind was racing, and she was starting to panic as Zosia convulsed beneath her. She did her best to pull her head up into her lap so she wouldn’t be bouncing against the floor, but there was nothing Carol could do about Zosia’s lungs seizing up.
Carol frantically rummaged through Zosia’s pockets, and quickly found her phone. She dialed 911, but as it rang, she noticed the bloody fingerprints she left behind. Zosia had a gnarly gash from where her head collided with the table, and it was now leaking out through Carol’s fingers and all over her clothes. She quickly ripped off her cardigan, and applied pressure as best she could as Zosia continued to jerk against her.

The operator picked up, and Carol frantically explained the situation.

“We have paramedics on the way, ma’am. Just keep her on her side, and protect her head with a pillow or cushion, whatever is available.”

Carol did as instructed, and forced Zosia onto her side. She nabbed a throw pillow off the couch, and slid it beneath her head, leaving bloody handprints everywhere she touched. She held onto her tight as she writhed beneath her. Nothing could have prepared Carol for how frightening the situation was. She was doing all she could to stay calm.

“Are they almost here?” Carol’s voice cracked, frantic and pleading. “Please tell me they’re almost here.”

“They’re in the neighborhood, ma’am. You should hear sirens soon.”

Carol strained to listen, but it was hard to focus on anything besides Zosia’s rigid body jerking against her. It felt like an eternity, holding Zosia close and waiting for the nightmare to end. Just as the sirens roared up outside, the convulsions were slowing, until it was nothing more than a faint tick. Zosia’s chest started to rise and fall with shaky breaths, and her limbs went limp. Carol leaned in close, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Zosia? Hey, can you hear me?”

No longer locked into place, her eyes became sentient once more as she scanned her environment. She acted like a frightened animal as she quickly tried to sit up, dazed and confused. Carol shushed her, and encouraged her to lay back against the pillow.

“You’re ok, I got you. The paramedics are right outside,” Carol said in the calmest voice she could muster, despite feeling quite the opposite.

Zosia muttered something in her confusion that sounded an awful lot like Carol’s name, but it was impossible to decipher. The paramedics let themselves in and immediately took over. Carol gave them their space to work, but she didn’t go far. A thick pad of gauze was applied to her head wound, vitals were taken, and she was asked a series of questions.

“Can you tell me your name?” The leading paramedic asked as he checked her blood pressure.

Zosia furrowed her brows in concentration. “I… um… przepraszam…”

The paramedic gave her a moment, but no answer came, so he moved on. “Do you know where you are right now?”

She glanced around, as if she had never seen the inside of her own home. “We are inside a building…”

He scribbled on a note pad, then sent his partner back to the ambulance to grab something. He continued his questioning. “What day of the week is it?”

“…Wednesday?”

He accepted the incorrect answer. “And can you tell me what just happened?”

Zosia thought her hardest. She looked at all the people surrounding her to try and put the pieces together, but she was coming up empty handed. That was, until she locked eyes with Carol.

“Carol came over,” she said confidently.

“That’s right,” Carol eagerly confirmed. “She got that one right.”

The paramedic didn’t seem quite as impressed. His partner returned with a gurney and a neck brace. He explained the next steps as they stabilized her and transferred her to the stretcher. “We’re going to take her in for both the head trauma and the unexplained loss of consciousness. They’ll want to do an x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken, and probably a few other tests. Who are you to her?”

“Her friend… I think.”

“Alright, well you can follow behind us, and meet up with us at Saint Joan Medical Center.”

Carol absently nodded, her hands were still shaking. “Ok, um, is she going to be alright?”

“She’s in good hands.”

------------------------

Carol never did like hospitals. Not that anyone ever did, but there was just something about the white walls, bright lights, and staccato beeping that drove her insane. She couldn’t imagine having to sleep in such an environment, yet Zosia was fast asleep.

A combination of pain killers and benzodiazepines was the perfect cocktail to knock her right out. Unfortunately, that meant that Zosia was unable to answer any medical questions, and Carol was up to bat. She could only speak on Zosia’s epilepsy, and that she took daily medication, but aside from that, she was virtually useless. She gave them Stefan’s name, but without Zosia’s password to retrieve his phone number, he too was useless.

It wasn’t long before Zosia was whisked away for an emergency CT scan, leaving Carol all alone. She looked down at her hands, still caked in dried blood, and the smear all the way down the front of her. Carol retreated to the bathroom to clean up. She scrubbed and scrubbed, but there were still stains splotched all over her hands and up her arms. There was so much blood.

The reality of everything was starting to set in, and the adrenaline was finally wearing off. Carol shuttered and held the sink for balance. The whole situation was right out of a nightmare. The way Zosia’s eyes rolled back, the sound, the blood. She was so confused when she woke, she couldn’t even remember her own name. It only hit Carol just then that if she hadn’t been there, Zosia could have bled out and died.

A sob stole her breath. She could cry in here – in the privacy of the bathroom. She needed to, especially after everything that just happened. Carol let her tears fall into the now blood-stained sink, as she allowed all the shock to settle. But Zosia was hurting, and Carol would be as strong for her as she could be. She’d leave her tears behind in the bathroom, and be nothing but supportive when Zosia came to.

When they wheeled her back in, Carol’s face was stone. She thanked the staff, and received confirmation that Zosia’s condition was stable. It was a small victory, and the nursing staff left the two alone. Carol was having a hard time looking away from the sleeping angel. Her head was wrapped tightly in gauze, but the neck brace had been removed once they confirmed she hadn’t suffered a fracture. The bags under her eyes were more prevalent than before, and wisps of hair were tacked against her face with dried blood.

Carol was quick to retrieve a wet rag. She returned to Zosia’s side, and with a feather touch, she gently swabbed at the splotches of blood on her face. Carol didn’t want to cause her any more pain, so it was a slow, meticulous process.

“They’re saying you’re gonna need stitches,” Carol said softly as she wiped near Zosia’s eye. “You know, I had to get stitches once. I was thirteen, and me and my friend Andrea took her brother’s dirt bike for a joyride.” Carol chuckled at the memory. “Needless to say, it was a stupid idea, and we wiped out almost immediately. Andrea somehow got out of it without a scratch, but I tore up my knee, and I had to get four stitches. I thought crashing the dirt bike was bad, but when my mom found out…” Her voice trailed off. Carol didn’t want to recall that part of the story. She shook her head, and moved on. “My point is, stitches aren’t that bad.”

She finished cleaning her up, and admired her work. It was far better than what the nursing aides had attempted. Carol looked over her features, so much more prominent in the harsh lighting, yet still so radiant. How she could look so lovely after suffering a seizure and head trauma was impressive. Carol was certain that if the roles were reversed, she’d look downright hideous. For a moment, she wished that they could change places, so Carol was the one shouldering all of the pain.

“I don’t understand what it is you see in me,” Carol relented. “The dean said you’re in his office almost every day just boasting about me. Me. The asshole who outed you at Thanksgiving, ostracized you, and cut you on our first day of class.” The scratch from that incident had faded into a thin, pale line, but it was still there. It would always be there. “I don’t know what I did to deserve your kindness… I don’t think I’ll ever be deserving of it.”

Carol’s words hung in the air, slowly swallowed up by the sterile atmosphere. Unexpectedly, a mumble came from Zosia’s lips, and Carol leaned in close.

“What’d you say?” Carol asked, ear to her mouth.

“These drugs… are good…” She drawled.

It was enough to crack Carol’s exterior and draw out a smile. “Yeah, they set you up with the good stuff. I made sure.”

Zosia’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and she winced as she adjusted. “The light…”

Carol shut off the overhead light in a flash.

“Thank you, Carol.”

At least she knew who she was. That was a good start. “Do you remember what happened?” Carol asked.

“I don’t.” She wet her lips, and blinked a few times before speaking again. She sounded defeated. “I had a seizure, didn’t I?”

Carol sighed, joining her melancholy. “Yeah. You did.”

Even though she clearly had her suspicions, the news was tough to take. She tried to sit up a bit more, but even the small adjustment left her exhausted. She caught her breath for a moment, looking at her own body in the bed. “Did I pee myself?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m in a gown.” She gestured faintly before losing her strength. “Is it because I… you know…”

Carol tried to recall, but she was far too worried with everything else that was going on during the event. “I think they changed you because of all the blood.”

“Blood?” Her eyes slowly drifted over to meet Carol’s.

“Yeah, you kind of nailed your head on the coffee table. They think you have a concussion.”

Zosia hummed as she took in the news. Carol thought about how strange it must have been to have no recollection of such a traumatic event. She, for one, would certainly never forget it.

“The nurses were wondering if you had any idea what might have caused your seizure. Did you miss your meds this morning?”

Zosia thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

Carol hummed. “So, it was just some freak accident then.”

“Not exactly.” Zosia yawned, then winced a little as she stretched out her jaw. “Stress is one of my big triggers. Stress and sleep deprivation.”

Carol furrowed her brows. “What were you so stressed about?”

She turned her head ever so slowly, and met Carol’s eyes. Her look said it all. It was that look she liked to give her when she was being a big pain in the ass. Carol buried her face in her hands as she realized the implication.

“Oh God, this is all my fault…”

“Please, don’t take it that way,” Zosia said. “I had a feeling something was off already. That’s why I wasn’t at work.”

Carol peeked up from her fingers. “I thought you were just avoiding me.”

“Well… maybe that too.” She let out a sigh, and allowed her eyes to flutter shut once more. “You sure do like to… jump to conclusions.”

“I’m sorry,” Carol reached out to take Zosia’s hand, but decided against it at the last moment. “I was an asshole at Thanksgiving. I never should have said those things…”

“I’m glad you did.”

She completely derailed Carol’s train of thought. Carol stammered for a moment, trying to make sense of a concussed woman’s words. “What do you mean?”

Zosia’s replies came back slower each time as sleep started to win out. “I wanted to open up to you about it… about everything… I just couldn’t…”

“How come?”

“Because… I was afraid you’d… you’d think less of me…”

Carol scoffed at the notion that anything in the entire world could make her think less of Zosia. “For having an ex-husband?”

“For that… and the other… thing…”

“What other thing?”

There was a mumble, but nothing coherent came out. She was under the spell of her drug cocktail once more. It was late by the time all the tests had been run. She had a mild concussion, and the gouge on the back of her head needed only three stitches. She was prescribed a new anti-seizure medication and ordered to get plenty of rest.
Once the decision was made to keep her overnight for observation, Carol set up a makeshift bed between two recliners. The last thing she wanted to do was leave Zosia alone. After a while, she could tune out the beeping and the faint chatter in the hallway. As it turned out, she could sleep far better in a hospital than she could at home, just a room away from Helen’s ghost.

Chapter Text

“Watch your step,” Carol cautioned as she led Zosia over the threshold.

“I’ve got it. Thank you, Carol.”

She still helped Zosia, despite her insistence that she could walk just fine. The concussion had left her with brain fog, and a constant migraine. A few days of bedrest, and the doctor said she should feel just about normal. But in the meantime, someone needed to keep an eye on her. Carol was more than willing to accept the role. In fact, she insisted.

But the happy homecoming to Zosia’s apartment quickly took on a different emotion as they walked into the aftermath of yesterday's accident. It looked like a crime scene. Bloody handprints littered the couch, and crimson shoeprints tracked across the hardwood from the living room to the door. Nothing had moved, except for Rudy, perched up high on his cat tower. He leapt down, scampered around the mess with deft paws, and rubbed against Zosia, greeting her with a chirp. She leaned down to pet her faithful companion, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the mess. It only occurred to Carol right then that Zosia had no recollection of the mayhem.

“Wow,” Zosia uttered, unblinking. “That was a lot of blood.”

“Yeah,” Carol tried to laugh it off. “It was like the prom scene in Carrie.”

Those big doe eyes turned to her, full of worry. “Are you ok? That had to have been terrifying.”

“Me? I’m fine. Totally fine,” she assured, neglecting to mention her breakdown in the bathroom. “I was just worried about you.”

Zosia looked down at their clothes, and Carol followed her gaze. Despite her best efforts to clean them in the hospital, her tank top had a dried smear of blood down the front, and her dusty colored slacks were spattered in red spots. The cardigan she had sacrificed yesterday still laid among the wreckage, surely beyond saving. Zosia at least got to shower and wash off all the blood before they discharged her. She was granted a set of single-use scrubs to leave the hospital in, but her pajamas she had been wearing during the incident were ruined.

“Sorry about your clothes,” Zosia murmured.

“It’s fine, I hated these pants anyway. Let’s get you changed and laid down,” Carol said. “I’ll clean up.”

Zosia started to decline Carol’s offer, but she was quick to shut it down.

“Please let me do this for you, Zosia. It’s the least I can do.”

She reluctantly accepted, as her head was still pounding, and laying down sounded far better than scrubbing at the floors. Carol led her back to her bedroom, and insisted she sit. She opened Zosia’s closet, and glanced around. She had plenty of work outfits, nearly every color of the rainbow. A baby blue blouse, a caramel colored chemise, a turquoise turtleneck. Unlike Carol, who would wear sweatpants to work if she could, Zosia’s loungewear was nowhere to be found.

“What do you normally wear to bed?” Carol asked as she poked around.

“Nothing.”

Carol swallowed thickly as she glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a faint smirk on Zosia’s lips, despite herself. It was good to know she wasn’t too sick to tease her colleague. And it was working, as Carol’s cheeks started to turn red. Zosia let the moment linger before pointing to a small dresser of drawers in the corner.

“Second to the bottom. There should be something in there.”

Carol hopped right to it, and found her a pair of dark green sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. She handed it over, and started to leave, but Zosia caught her.

“Can you help me with my top?”

She was struggling with the unforgiving fabric the hospital had provided. Carol paused, surprised by the request but nodded. She helped Zosia ease out of her top with careful hands, making sure not to jostle her sore shoulders or rub against her stitches. The quiet between them was comforting, punctuated only by the soft rustle of fabric and Zosia's tired sigh. There was no tension in that moment, despite Zosia’s bare chest. Only compassion, and Carol’s politely averted gaze. The sleep shirt went on far easier.

“Do you need help with the pants?” Carol asked earnestly.

Zosia stood to give it a shot all by herself, but she became woozy and started to lose her balance. Carol caught her around her waist, chest aflutter at the quiet swear under Zosia’s breath.

“It’s alright, I got you.”

With permission, Carol helped peel off her pants. It wasn’t like the last time. There wasn’t drunken banter or an underlying tension strung tight between them. It was a moment of tenderness and vulnerability. There was a bit of shame marring Zosia’s face. Surely the embarrassment from the events of the past 24-hours just kept compounding. Carol did her best to make her feel comfortable, but it couldn’t quite cure Zosia of her humiliation.

Once she was dressed, Carol quickly fetched a towel to lay on her lightly colored pillowcase. Her stitches oozed when she rolled around in her sleep, and from what Carol had observed last night in the hospital, she moved around quite a bit. Carol helped her lay back and get comfortable, and Zosia was incredibly appreciative.

“You get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for your pills,” Carol said, hesitant to leave her side.

Coming home and getting changed had already exhausted her, so Zosia settled right in, her eyelids too heavy to keep open. “Thank you, Carol. You’re a good friend.”

Carol wanted to believe it, but the compliment hadn’t felt earned. She wanted to earn it, though. More than anything, she wanted to feel worthy of all of Zosia’s praise. Today was a turning point. Today she’d make herself worthy.

----------------------

The blood came up off the floors a lot easier than she expected. The upholstery on the other hand was a completely different story, and her cardigan and the throw pillow were far from salvageable. Carol’s fingers were sore by the end of it, and the stains in the buckskin colored couch had only lightened a little. She flipped cushions where she could, and draped a knitted throw blanket over the parts she couldn’t conceal. She stood back and admired her work. Everything looked normal. Even Rudy the cat seemed impressed, as he trekked across the couch, sniffing the cleaner Carol had used. He hopped down, then plopped on the floor before her, exposing his fluffy tummy and letting out a loud meow.

Carol tentatively reached down and stroked his soft fur. She didn’t consider herself an animal person, but he seemed okay enough. And besides, Zosia was in love with the furball, so Carol didn’t mind getting on his good side. He hopped up, tail twitching, and swiftly padded over to the pantry. He paced outside of it, meowing even louder than before. Carol followed his lead and opened the door, unveiling a big bag of cat food.

He must have been starving, considering Zosia wasn’t home to feed him last night. Carol scooped out a hefty portion, and Rudy showed her exactly where to put it. She stroked down his back as he gobbled up his kibble with fervor.

Zosia was probably hungry too. She had declined breakfast, and she slept through lunch. Carol recalled her occasionally eating takeout from the Thai restaurant downtown during their lunch breaks. She hoped Zosia would be in the mood for it, as she dialed the restaurant and ordered delivery. Anyone would appreciate waking up to takeout.

She glanced at the clock, mentally calculating when Zosia's next dose was due. She was determined not to let anything slip through the cracks. She wouldn’t have another seizure; not if Carol had anything to do with it. Maybe, in caring for Zosia and even Rudy, she could start to forgive herself for the things she couldn't fix before. Maybe even Zosia could forgive her, as despicable and miserable as she was.

The food arrived right in time for Zosia’s next dose of medication. Carol set up the living room for a peaceful evening in. Candles were burning away the scent of bleach, the cheesy soap opera Zosia always prattled on about was playing in the background, and Thai food steamed on the coffee table. The crime scene had been completely transformed into cozy serenity.

“Carol…” Zosia appeared around the corner. She had awoken on her own volition, or perhaps from all the shuffling. There was a sleepy softness in her voice, and a twinkle in her eye as she took in the scene. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

Carol didn’t say what first came to mind. That she’d do anything for Zosia. Instead, she stepped back, and welcomed her in with the wave of a hand. “Come eat. I’ll get your meds.”

Zosia smiled from ear to ear as she took her place on the couch, and took a big whiff of her stir fry. Thankfully, her appetite had returned, and Carol could breathe a sigh of relief. She delivered the pills, then nervously paced as she went over everything she had done.

“I got your place cleaned up. Did the dishes too. Um, Rudy is fed, his litter box is scooped, and the pothos on your windowsill was looking a little sad, so I watered it.”

Zosia looked up at her with those sleepy, appreciative eyes. “Thank you, Carol. Now sit and relax. I can’t eat all of this by myself.”

She clicked her tongue. “I don’t want to ruin the furniture, I’m pretty gross. Besides, I figured you’re probably still upset with me. Which is totally justified, by the way. I just want to make sure you’re all set up until I can come check on you tomorrow.”

Zosia gave her a look. “I have a shower, Carol. Hurry up and use it before your food gets cold.”

The hot water was a relief on her aching joints, and Zosia’s extensive collection of soaps and scrubs was a pleasant surprise. No wonder she always smelled so good. Carol hopped out of the shower, smelling like a Bath and Body Works. At some point, in the middle of Carol’s lathering, Zosia had slipped in and dropped off a fresh set of clothes. The pants were long on her, albeit a little tight around the butt, and the sweatshirt was one size too big. She didn’t mind, though. She was just thrilled Zosia wanted her to stay.

Zosia had reserved Carol a spot right beside her on the couch, and nobly defended her portion of takeout from the cat circling like a shark. Carol took her place, mindful of the space between them. Zosia was fixated on her show, while Carol slurped her noodles and occasionally asked stupid questions. It felt oddly normal.

All that time spend cleaning had given Carol plenty of time to think about where things were going between them. Carol was sure she heard it at Thanksgiving, despite her drunken stupor. Zosia said she wasn’t interested in men.

She was trying to not get hung up on the semantics of what exactly was said, and instead thought of all the different things she had noticed. The most glaring evidence being her interest in Carol’s books. Bitter Chrysalis was for all intents and purposes, a retelling of Carol’s experience with lesbianism. Sure, it was censored for the sake of marketability, but the message would hit home for anyone who had gone through a similar experience.

Carol knew better than anyone about the loneliness that came with queerness. She had spent most of her life feeling the need to blend in rather than be proud of the person she was. Wycaro was a monument to that. She didn’t refer to Helen as her wife in public until after she had passed, and it ate Carol up inside. When Zosia heard that Carol once had a wife, she must have been elated. Perhaps she was drawn to Carol for that aspect, as well as her writing. A more experienced and established lesbian she could look up to. She wondered if Zosia felt the same kind of isolation, or if she’d managed to find comfort in her own company.

Then, of course, there was the other thing Zosia had mentioned in the hospital. Something she was ashamed of admitting to Carol, but was too drowsy to get the words out. There were still so many things this mysterious woman kept close to her chest, and Carol wanted to unravel every last bit of her. But the last thing she wanted was to stress Zosia out more than she already had. So, Carol let it be for now. They could have their heart to heart at a later date.

“Why didn’t he just kiss her right there?” Carol asked as the leading man once again ran away from his feelings.

“Because he thinks the feeling isn’t mutual,” Zosia explained, eyes glued to the screen. “But everyone knows she’s crazy about him. They spend at least four episodes going on dates without actually calling them dates. They don’t even get together until the fourth season,” she griped.

“Wow, thanks for the spoilers,” Carol teased.

Zosia scoffed, playfully nudging Carol with her foot. “You said you didn’t even like my show.”

“Yeah, well, it’s growing on me. Although, the writing does leave quite a bit to be desired.” Carol settled back into the couch, arms crossed.

Before Zosia could come to the defense of the sappy plot lines, her phone started buzzing on the coffee table. She glanced at the ID, and became solemn. It was Stefan. Carol held her breath, and analyzed Zosia’s face. Her hesitation alone spoke volumes.

“Are you going to answer?” Carol asked.

Zosia looked between Carol and her phone. “I don’t want to, but…”

“If you don’t want to talk to him, then just let it ring. What’s he gonna do about it? Fly to Albuquerque?”

“He might,” Zosia said gravely.

Carol couldn’t tell if it was a joke or a warning. Either way, Stefan was sure to make her stress levels skyrocket, so Carol was adamant.

“Don’t answer.”

Zosia’s hand hovered above the screen, the persistent buzzing filling the silence between them. Each ring only amplified the tension in the room, until it finally went to voicemail. Carol let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Even Zosia released a shaky exhale.

“See? Easy,” Carol said, relaxing once more. “Now you just need to practice telling people to fuck off. Trust me, it feels great. Very cathartic.”

“I think I’ll leave that to you.” Zosia yawned and tucked her feet up onto the couch. There was a blanket draped over her shoulders, and she pulled it closer. “This new medicine makes me so sleepy.”

Carol gave her a once over. The sun was just starting to set, and they were only on the second episode. “Are you ready to go to bed? I can head out.”

“No, not yet.” She inched a little closer. “Did you think…” There was trepidation in her voice. “Could you stay the night? I know it’s short notice, but – “

“I can stay,” Carol blurted out, just a little too fast. “I’ll just crash on the couch. If you need anything in the middle of the night, I’ll be here at your beck and call.” She gave a genuine smile, one Zosia couldn’t help but return.

They settled back in for the show, warmth nestling between them. By the time the next episode was starting, fatigue caused Zosia to slump until she was starting to nod off. She caught herself just before tipping over, a sharp inhale of surprise following suit. The poor woman was just so exhausted. Carol was about to shut the TV off and help her to bed, but Zosia had other plans. She grabbed one of the throw pillows that had been spared the bloodshed, and sat it on Carol’s thighs. Without a word, Zosia laid across her lap, and snuggled in.

Carol held her breath, as if the slightest movement might scare her off. Within a matter of moments, Zosia’s eyes fluttered shut, and a faint snore drifted up from her parted lips. Without much thought, Carol gently brushed Zosia’s hair out of her face. She found herself stroking her head, delicate and measured, hoping the tender touch would transcend her languid state.

Carol swept some of the velvety strands to the side, and got a better look at the gash on the back of her head. The stitches were holding everything together just fine, and it seemed that the oozing had stopped. But there would be a scar for sure, just as there was a scar across her cheek from Carol’s ring. A layer of foundation, and tresses of hair could conceal the damage Carol had done, but she knew those scars were there. They would always be there.

It was a permanent reminder of the temper that festered within her. Something she spent most of her adult life learning to contain and control. Helen had grown accustomed to it. But Zosia, as sweet and considerate as she was, couldn’t even let her phone go to voicemail over fear of upsetting someone. Nothing could have prepared her for someone like Carol.

She couldn’t do it again – lose her temper like that. Every time she did, Zosia only got hurt, physically and emotionally. Carol made a silent promise to herself as she sat there, caressing the vulnerable woman laid up on her lap. Zosia would never see that side of her again.

Chapter Text

Carol paced about her classroom as she waited for Zosia to pick up. It had been a few days since the incident, and with finals approaching in a couple of weeks, Carol couldn’t afford to miss any more instruction time. She, of course, wished she could keep playing nurse at Zosia’s apartment. Leaving her alone like that filled her with anxiety.

Zosia answered, and she couldn’t even greet her before Carol started her interrogation.

“Hey, how are you feeling? Everything going ok?”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. “I’m fine, Carol. Nothing has changed since you called me twenty minutes ago.”

“Good, good.” She sat on the edge of the desk. “Did you take your meds yet?”

“I did, and before you ask, yes, I’ve eaten and had plenty of water.”

Carol chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Jesus, guess I’m a broken record, huh?”

“Don’t take it like that. I appreciate your concern – really, I do. I suppose I’m just always so worried about others, I forget to care for myself. It’s… nice to be thought about,” she said sincerely.

“Well, I’m usually thinking about you, so…”

“Oh?” Her grin was evident through her voice. “And what is it you think about?”

There was that fluttering again. Carol hesitated, unsure if she should tell the truth or not. Because she did think about Zosia a lot. Almost constantly. She ruminated over the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way her soft palms always gravitated towards Carol when she grew uncomfortable, and the little songs she’d sing to Rudy in the morning when her voice was still raspy with sleepiness. Carol’s infatuation had blossomed into something more than just her primal urges. She had feared it at first, but the more she let the feeling settle, the better it felt. Carol just hoped Zosia could feel it too, as unlikely as that was.

“I think about…” Carol’s eyes flitted up to the door, ensuring she was alone. She spoke in a low tone, as anything more may reveal the tremor in her voice. “…how much I love your smile. It’s infectious.”

“Well then, you’ll be glad to know you’re making me smile right now.”

Carol couldn’t help but grin. “Glad I could be of service. Anything else I can do for you?”

There was a pleased hum on the other end. One that gave Carol goosebumps. “Let’s see… what else do you love about me?”

Carol spoke before giving it much thought.

“Everything.”

The classroom door flew open as Professor Diabaté entered with gusto. “Bonjour! Or should I say hola!”

Carol couldn’t hide the growl in her voice as she spoke into the phone. “Oh great, your sub is here. You know, I could have proctored your classes. Yo soy mucho gusto espaniol.”

Zosia snorted at Carol’s poor grammar. “That’s very sweet of you to offer, but I think Koumba can navigate the language barrier a bit better.”

“Is that her?” Koumba asked as he strutted down the aisle. He spoke loudly next to Carol’s face. “Hope you are feeling better, Zosia! We all miss you dearly.”

“Tell him I miss him too,” Zosia said.

Carol peered up at her colleague. “She says ‘fuck off’ and ‘don’t traumatize her students before she comes back tomorrow.’”

Zosia adamantly denied on the other end of the phone, while Koumba didn’t believe Carol for a second.

“I gotta go,” she said to Zosia. “I’ll check in on you in a bit, ok? You get some rest.”

Zosia loudly yawned, then agreed. As much as Carol didn’t want to stop talking to her, Koumba was the last person she wanted eavesdropping on a personal phone call, so she hung up. He went to the blackboard, palmed some of Carol’s chalk, and scrawled his name in big bold letters.

“Tell me, Carol,” he said as he sat the chalk down and fixed his collar. “What are her students like?”

“Well, most of them are men, so I don’t think you’ll have much luck getting one to come home with you.”

He scoffed at the notion. “Ah, yes, because I can’t be professional at work.”

“Bingo.”

He placed a hand on his hip. “I’ll have you know, I am no longer on the market.”

Carol couldn’t help the sarcastic laugh that escaped her throat. “Yeah? How much are you paying her?”

“Not a dime. In fact, she is very affluent. She’s also very… passionate, if you catch my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Carol sneered, shaking her head as if it could remove the thought. “Yeah, yeah, good for her for taking one for the team.” She gathered up her things off the desk in a hurry. “Ok, ground rules. No eating in here; the last thing we need is another rat. Keep your feet off the desk, and don’t adjust the chair, the knob gets stuck. I’ve got my classic lit lecture at 2, so make sure you’re long gone by then.”

Koumba let out a low whistle. “Are you this strict with Zosia?”

“No, just you.”

Carol cradled her papers in her arm. She turned to leave, but Koumba caught her before she could get too far. His demeanor was a bit more solemn than usual.

“Carol, I just wanted to apologize. I can’t help but feel like your outburst at Thanksgiving was partially my fault. I’m the one who kept egging you on, and for that, I’m sorry.”

Truthfully, Carol hadn’t really considered him a guilty party. But he sounded sincere and genuinely apologetic. A stark contrast to the half-assed apology he had given for speaking about Helen.

“Thank you for apologizing,” Carol said after a moment’s hesitation. “Make sure you tell Zosia the same thing when she gets back. She’s the one who got hurt from all of this.”

He nodded, and let her go.

Even the strange tenderness from Koumba couldn’t take her mind off of Zosia. She had gone out on a limb and flirted with her. And against all odds, she flirted back. It felt more intense than the usual playful banter they engaged in. It felt real. As Carol strolled down the hall, she found herself walking with a little pep in her step.

Even as she worked in her office, Carol couldn’t help but smile to herself. She felt like a teenager again waiting to go see her crush after school – far away from peering eyes – where the implication of a kiss lingered between their nervous bodies. Perhaps that’s what was waiting for her after school at Zosia’s apartment. How exhilarating it would be to steal a kiss from her. To taste Zosia on her tongue, and know she was all hers. Carol imagined all of the different places she wished to kiss on Zosia’s body, and she found herself getting a little dizzy as she was grading essays.

Carol decided to call her again. She just needed to make sure she hadn’t imagined the sultry way Zosia spoke, or the flirty undertone to all of her comments. Maybe Carol would carry on from where they left off, and ask what Zosia loved about her, not that there was much to choose from.

The phone rang and rang, but she never picked up.

Perhaps she just missed her. Carol waited a minute, then called back.

No answer.

It had to be her phone service. Her office was a bit of a dead spot. Carol stepped outside and dialed once again, but there still wasn’t an answer. Now she was starting to get worried. Zosia always answered her phone calls – as moronic and redundant as they could be. Surely she wasn’t screening her calls.

Carol hurried back inside and made a beeline for her classroom. As she threw the door open, Koumba was in the middle of instructing the small class. He paused mid-sentence, brows furrowed.

“Carol? Is there something you need?”

She marched down the aisle, stopping right in front of him. She held out her hand and spoke in a panicked whisper. “Zosia’s not answering. Give me your phone.”

He wasted no time calling her number and handing over his phone. Carol tapped her foot as she waited and waited, her breath quickening with each ring. It went to voicemail. The thought of Zosia having another seizure flashed across Carol’s mind and her heart dropped.

She didn’t say a word, just threw Koumba’s phone back at him and sprinted out of the classroom. Her grading could wait. Everything could wait.

Carol ran to her car, puffing as she jumped into the driver's seat. She hadn’t ran since the fundraiser, and even that was mostly a fast walk. She blew into the breathalyzer, but she was too breathless for it to get a reading.

“God dammit!” She banged the device against the dashboard out of frustration.

Thankfully, it didn’t break. She forced herself to have a level head, despite all of the images running through her mind. The sound, the blood, the shaking. Carol blocked it out long enough to catch her breath. She finally blew a zero and cranked her car to life. She peeled out of the parking lot, swerving around students lollygagging on their way to class.

Zosia’s apartment wasn’t far. She could be there in a matter of minutes, especially with how fast she was driving. Carol didn’t even glance at the speedometer. Her eyes were glued to the road as she hoped and prayed Zosia was still breathing. But, as Carol’s luck would have it, she couldn’t even make it halfway before red and blue lights flashed behind her.

Carol slowed, then came to a stop as the cop pulled her over. This was good. The officer could escort her, or at the very least, send paramedics over. Best case scenario, this was all just a misunderstanding, and Zosia had simply misplaced her phone. Worst case scenario, and Carol’s drinking would probably do her in.

It felt like an eternity until the officer finally stalked up beside her car. She was waiting with the window down, and hurriedly explained the situation. “Officer, my friend is in trouble! She has epilepsy, and she isn’t answering her phone. I’m scared she might be hurt or worse. She lives just a few blocks down, so if you could… escort… me….” Her voice trailed off as she got a better look at the officer’s face. It took a moment, but she recognized him. He was the one who came to her door the night that Helen died.

It was clear from the annoyed glance over his sunglasses and loud smacking of gum that he didn’t recognize Carol. Or, at the very least, he didn’t really care. He rested a hand on his belt, leaned down into the window, and spoke rather condescendingly. “You know, the roads have speed limits for a reason, ma’am. It’s 35 through here. You know how fast you were going?”

The shock of seeing his face again had thrown her off. She tried to compose herself through the wave of emotions it brought. “I – I don’t know, I was just trying to get to my friend – “

“53, ma’am.” He barked rather matter-of-factly. “That’s nearly 20 over the speed limit.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but – “

“License and registration, ma’am.”

Carol swallowed her frustration as she quickly rummaged through her glovebox. Yelling at him would only escalate things, so she tried to appeal to him instead. “Sir, could you at least send paramedics to check on my friend? She lives in the Meadowbrook apartments, number 202.”

He didn’t respond, just held out his hand. Carol was trying to have patience, but she was running short on time. She withheld her license, and spoke sharply. “My friend might be bleeding to death. Please, just send someone to do a welfare check as quickly as you can.”

He held her gaze for a moment before snatching the papers from her hand. “I’ve heard it all, ma’am. I’m sure your friend is just peachy. Hang tight.”

There wasn’t a moment to argue as he strutted back to his patrol car. Carol tried to shout, but he paid her no mind. Dread was the only word that could describe how she felt, sitting there idly. Carol’s throat was starting to become tight as she imagined Zosia collapsed on the floor. She pulled out her phone, and tried calling one last time. It rang and rang and rang.

The call went to voicemail.

Carol shifted her car into drive.

Chapter Text

It was a dumb idea. A really dumb idea. But as Carol peeled away from the traffic stop, all she could think about was Zosia’s smiling face.

The sirens caught up to her quickly as she raced down the boulevard. As terrified as she was, the adrenaline hit her like kerosine, and she hammered on the gas. Cars were yielding as she came flying down the street and through intersections. Whether the officer liked it or not, he was giving Carol a police escort. They came up to a red light, and Carol winced as she blew straight through it, narrowly avoiding a garbage truck. A gasping breath resuscitated her once she safely crossed to the other side, but the relief didn’t last long. She glanced in her rearview, and two other patrol cars had joined the pursuit.

Of all of the things to be racing through Carol’s thoughts at that moment, oddly enough, it was her Wycaro novels that came to mind. Lucasia once crossed enemy waters to save Raban, all while being chased by war galleons. Of course, in this scenario, there was no shroud of slip sand to conceal her vessel, but the urgency was the same. The only tools at Carol’s disposal were her wits and driving skills. Considering she had nothing to lose except her Raban, she gunned it.

Carol whipped around a corner, her tires skidding as the whole car started to drift. She narrowly managed to regain control, as she overcorrected into oncoming traffic. She let out a yelp as she realized her mistake. Something crunched in the underbelly of her car as she hopped the curb and got back on the right side of the road.

There it was. Zosia’s apartment.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, and the cops were still a few hundred feet behind her, jumping over the curb as well. Carol pulled into the parking lot with great speed, and locked up her breaks trying to stop. The sirens were deafening as she threw her car into park and jumped out. Without looking back, she booked it for Zosia’s apartment, and ran up the stairs faster than she knew she could. A chorus of squealing breaks and barking officers chased after her, but she still had a lead.

Carol ran to Zosia’s door. To both her surprise and her relief, it was unlocked, so she bolted inside. There was no blood, and there was nobody. The only living thing was Rudy, who had been sleeping on the counter. He had startled at the sudden intrusion, and skittered off to one of his many hiding spots.

“Zosia!” Carol shouted, despite being so out of breath.

There was no reply from the depths of the apartment, but there were thunderous footsteps pounding up the stairs. Carol ran to check the bathroom, in case she had slipped in the shower, but that too was empty. The last place was Zosia’s bedroom, and she threw open the door with little regard.

“Zosia!” She called out.

The lump beneath the duvet stirred, and out popped a groggy mess of frazzled hair. Zosia was still half asleep as she sat up and squinted at Carol in her doorway.

“Carol?”

All Carol could do was flash a smile before three officers tackled her to the ground.

-----------------------------------------

It wasn’t the first time Carol had spent the night in jail. The first time, she was fifteen, and it was a concerted effort between her mother and the police department to teach her a lesson about underage drinking. Clearly, the lesson hadn’t stuck, as she was quite familiar with the process now. Usually, Helen was allowed to collect her once she had sobered up, but she had a feeling the law wasn’t going to be so lenient this time. All Carol could do was wait.

The officers had tackled her pretty hard, and her shoulder was all out of whack. But her discomfort paled in comparison to the relief she felt from knowing Zosia was okay. Alas, all of those efforts to lessen the Zosia’s stress levels had been thrown out the window when she was loudly awoken by an episode of Cops right in her hallway. Still, even if Carol gave her gray hairs, she was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Trickles of morning light were shining down the hall as Carol paced about her cell. The faint jingle of keys, and heavy clop of boots were promising. She pressed her face against the bars and craned her neck to catch a glimpse.

“Excuse me! Officer!” She called out. “Do I get to see a judge or what? You guys just threw me in here and called it a day – I think I deserve some kind of explanation!”

She faltered when she saw it was the same officer from the traffic stop. There was an uncomfortable amount of eye contact as he came up to the door and looked her over. He snapped his fingers as he had an epiphany.

“You’re the train lady, that’s where I know you from!"

How lovely to know the most traumatic moment of her entire life boiled down to the nickname ‘train lady’. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Yeah, that’s me. You know, I wouldn’t even be here if you would have just listened to me. Protect and serve my ass…” she growled. She wanted to say something far more insulting, but the keys in his hand made her bite her tongue. “Can I just get my bond so I can pay it?”

He flapped his hand dismissively. “No need. Your friend that was supposed to be dead on the floor? Yeah, she already paid it for you.” He unlocked the cell and held it open. “This way, speed demon.”

Carol was allowed to change out of her jumpsuit and collect her belongings. She signed some papers, and made a mental note of her court date in February. As they led her out into the lobby, her savior was waiting with her arms crossed and a scowl across her face. Carol swallowed hard, and approached with caution. Even if Zosia was angry with her, she still didn’t regret busting in to check on her. Carol nervously fiddled with her hands as she waited for Zosia to say something. Anything.

“Come here you idiot,” Zosia breathed. She reached out and pulled Carol into a tight hug, and she melted against her. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Right back at you.” Carol nestled into the crook of her neck. Zosia hadn’t hugged her like that since that night at the bar, so she was reluctant to let go. She missed that human connection so dearly, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She spoke against Zosia’s shoulder, quiet enough for just the two of them to hear. “I was so worried something happened to you...”

Zosia squeezed her tighter. “I know… I know…”

The tender moment was suddenly interrupted by an agitating, grating voice.

“Nobody told me I was meeting a celebrity!” Koumba loudly announced as he exited the men’s room. “Oh, do tell me Mr. Vin Diesel, how was it running from the law?”

Carol stiffened up as the embrace quickly came to an end. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“He drove me here,” Zosia said.

It hurt on a few different levels. Partially because she wanted Zosia alone, but mostly because Zosia knew how much he got on her nerves. Picking her up at jail was just more material for him to work with.

“And you couldn’t drive yourself? You just had to bring him to – to what? Prove a point? Embarrass me?”

Zosia looked away shamefully as she muttered an explanation. “They suspend your license for six months after a seizure. I asked him to take me here to bail you out.”

Carol’s defenses fell. Zosia had been stripped of her independence, and it hurt to see her so doleful over something out of her control. Carol mentally scolded herself for assuming the worst about her once again. Bad habits were the hardest to break.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Carol shifted awkwardly. “I can pay you back.”

“Oh, you will.” Zosia looked her up and down, but her expression was unreadable. “We’re all late for work. Shall we?”

The ride to work was awkward to say the least. Neither Carol nor Zosia elected to take shotgun, and instead sat in the cramped backseat. Koumba insisted on playing his mixtape for his two passengers, which included some original songs that were unique to say the least. Carol just stared out the window. She was too embarrassed to even look Zosia’s direction. No matter what she did, she just seemed to inconvenience everyone around her.

In the midst of her wallowing, a warm hand reached for hers. Carol turned to see Zosia’s gentle smile, and it softened her sharp edges. Nothing Carol had done was out of ill will, and Zosia of all people knew that. She squeezed Carol’s hand reassuringly, and the message was clear. She didn’t hold anything against her.

It was about 8:30 when they finally pulled onto campus. Koumba insisted they wait a moment and listen to the end of his song, but Carol was out of the car before he could even finish his sentence. Zosia followed right behind.

“Thank you for your services, but your work here is done. I can drive her to work from now on,” Carol said to Koumba as he shut off the car.

Koumba stepped out and tilted his head. “Who says she wants to carpool with a criminal? I say we let the lady decide. What do you say, ma chérie? Who do you choose?”

Zosia looked between the two. The question that would have once locked her in people-pleasing indecision was answered surprisingly fast.

“Carol.”

Everyone was a little surprised at the rapid answer. Even Zosia had to buffer for a moment after spewing out Carol’s name.

“No offense, Koumba,” she quickly explained. “It’s just… Carol is closer… and…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to come up with any more examples.

“And she just likes me better.” Carol quipped, a smug look thrown in Koumba’s direction.

He hummed, not entirely hurt by the decision. If anything, it made him a little suspicious as he narrowed his eyes and glanced between the two women. Whatever it was he was thinking, he kept it to himself for the time being. He thanked them for the exciting morning, and hurried off to his first lecture of the day.

Carol and Zosia weren’t in as much of a hurry.

“You know,” Carol said as they strolled up the pathway, “Koumba has a girlfriend now.”

“Wow,” Zosia hummed. “That’s… surprising.”

“I know right? The poor woman,” she snorted. “But hey, on the bright side, hopefully he’ll hit on you less.”

Zosia laughed and shook her head. “Carol, you have to know by now that he’s only joking.”

“No, he’s dead serious. He’s always flirting with you like some kind of Don Juan womanizer. He’s crazy about you.”

She gave Carol that look again. There was something obvious that Carol was missing, but she didn’t have the slightest clue.

“What?” She asked earnestly.

“He only flirts with me because it bothers you.”

Carol stopped walking a few feet shy of the door as she tried to work it all out in her mind. Zosia waited patiently for the pieces to fall into place.

“Well, yeah, it bothers me…” Carol’s brows were knitted in concentration. “But only because you’re clearly out of his league and not interested.”

Zosia hesitated as she formulated a reply. Her words came out very measured. “And if that’s the only reason it bothers you, then that’s fine.”

“What? You think there’s another reason why it bothers me?” She said defensively.

Zosia held her gaze for a moment, but it wasn’t tender. It was as if she were challenging her. Holding her ground against Carol’s blatant denial.

“You tell me.”

Carol opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat. A strange, twisting feeling settled in her chest, one she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She shifted her weight uneasily, her cheeks flushed and eyes averted. Carol was far more brave over the phone. The concept of telling Zosia about the fluttering in her chest face-to-face made Carol’s heart race like she was being chased by wolves.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. But Zosia just kept watching her, silent and unyielding, until Carol felt the tension buzzing in her bones. “Maybe I just don’t like being around him,” she added lamely, but even she didn’t sound convinced.

Zosia finally conceded, a hint of disappointment on her forgiving features. Nevertheless, a smile persisted through her turmoil. “We should get to work.”

Carol nodded, and held the door open for her. The moment they passed the threshold, they were met with Dean Winters. He had been waiting just inside the staff entrance, and his eyes were trained on Carol.

“Professor Sturka, a word,” he said solemnly, motioning for her to follow.

Carol looked to Zosia, who was just as confused as her. She reluctantly followed, unsure of what exactly ‘a word’ would entail. As they walked down the hall, she tried to make small talk about the Taffler building, the weather, or really anything she could think of, but Dean Winters had nothing to say. A horrible sinking feeling was taking over, and Carol felt like she was about to drown once they reached his office.

“Close the door,” he ordered as he walked around his desk.

Carol did as instructed, despite the tremor in her hands. “If this is about me leaving in such a hurry yesterday, I do have a good reason for it.”

“Oh really? Would you call this a good reason?”

The dean turned his computer monitor around for Carol to see. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of her mugshot plastered on the local news’s homepage with the title ‘UNM Professor Leads Police on Dangerous High-Speed Chase’. Carol took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I can explain,” she chuckled nervously. “You see, I thought Zosia was in trouble, and I was speeding, admittedly. The cops wouldn’t listen, so I just kept going.” She waited a beat for any sort of understanding, but Dean Winters didn’t budge. Carol shifted uneasily. “For the record, I think ‘high-speed’ is a little dramatic. I never went over seventy.”

Her comment did nothing to change his mind. “Carol, you’ve shown that you can be exceptional. What I don’t understand is your incessant need to burn it all down the moment you have something good. And I know you’ve had a really tough year,” he admitted with a disappointed frown. “I just thought you were getting better.”

Oh, how Carol wished she could just ‘get better.’ But the truth was, she was just born that way. Even her own mother had said those very words to her. That she thought Carol was getting better.

Camp Freedom Falls allowed the prisoners to go home for the holidays. Carol felt numb when her parents came to pick her up. There were fake smiles and words of gratitude expressed towards all of the councilors, but not a single hug or ‘I missed you’ for Carol. The ride home was silent, and dinner that night was quieter still. Nothing needed to be said. The unopened letters and unanswered calls from their discarded daughter said enough.

Carol couldn’t even remember what it was that broke her of her dissociative state. She just remembered coming to in the middle of their Christmas celebration, sitting by the tree, surrounded by family and friends. Her mind had finally turned back on after being shut down during all of the conversion therapy. Her mother’s voice was the first thing she took notice of. Loudly squawking to her relatives that Carol had been so much more respectful after her stint at the troubled youth camp. Of course, the lesbian part was left out. Having a delinquent daughter was bad enough as it was.

The more her mother spoke, the more that fire started to build in her chest. That rage that had been simmering for the past four months had finally risen up, and it was her mother’s words that made it boil over.

“She went kicking and screaming, but we did it because we love her.”

It would have been easy to blame Carol’s next action on a blind rage, but in truth, it was the first time she had thought clearly since they sent her away. Carol stood from her seat, wrapped her arms around the big Christmas tree, and rammed it straight into the fireplace. Everyone gasped and leapt from their seats as the fire took to the dry pine needles like gasoline. In less than a minute, the entire tree was engulfed, and the room lit up like the fourth of July.

Carol watched it all burn. The presents, the tinsel, the drapes. Everything in the room burned as Carol took it all in, unblinking. She was the last one out, only staging her exit once the smoke started to suffocate her. She stumbled out of the front door, coughing and wheezing, as her family all gathered on the lawn, shaken and confused. They all stood back and looked at her like she was some kind of animal. And she really did feel like one. Like a bad dog that even obedience school couldn’t take the bite out of. They could file down her teeth and wire her jaw shut, but she’d still find a way. It was just her nature.

As she stood there before her fearful family, coughing and retching, only one person had the guts to approach her. Carol’s mother marched right up. Tears were streaming down her face, but they weren’t those of sadness or fear. They were tears of a rage – the same anger that weighed so heavy on Carol’s soul.

Her mother reared back, and smacked Carol across the face as hard as she could. Carol collapsed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. The last clear memory from that night was her mother screaming at her on the ground, her voice shaking the entire neighborhood.

“I thought you were getting better, but you’re still a bitch!”

Trips down memory lane were Carol’s least favorite, but Dean Winters had accidentally struck a chord. She came back to the present a little detached. All she could do was shrug, and offer the only explanation she could think of.

“I’m sorry you expected more sir. I wish I could change, but I think it’s hereditary.”

Dean Winters sighed and shook his head. She knew he was disappointed. She was so close to making it through her probation without an incident. But then, a glimmer of hope sparked up at that very moment as Carol realized the implication.

“Does this mean you won’t be moving me to Taffler?” She asked, trying to conceal the excitement in her voice. Even just one more semester shared with Zosia would be a blessing.

“That would be correct,” Dean Winters said. “You won’t be moving classrooms because you’re fired.”

------------------------------------

It still didn’t feel real. Even as Carol packed up her things, it felt like a dream. She tucked her certificates and textbooks into boxes, under a security guard’s watchful eye.
As Carol worked, the words echoed in her mind. Fired. The finality of it seemed almost laughable after everything else that had happened. She tried to muster up the same anger that had fueled her for so long, but all she felt was a hollow ache. It was over. There was nothing left to fight for.

“Excuse me?” Zosia’s melodic voice floated down the hall. “What’s going on?”

Her heels steadily clicked down the corridor, coming to a stop right outside of the office. The security officer filled out the doorway, blocking her path. Zosia craned her neck to see what all of this was about. She caught a glimpse of the boxes and Carol’s dejected expression.

“No,” Zosia breathed. “He didn’t…”

Hearing the grief in Zosia’s voice was worse than receiving the news herself. All Carol could do was shrug. “Yeah, he did.”

“But – he can’t – this isn’t – “ Zosia was so flustered, she couldn’t even form a sentence. She gave up on words and tried to push past the security guard, but it was hopeless.

“Stay back, ma’am,” he ordered, a hand prepared to push her off if she got too close again.

“This isn’t fair!” Zosia exclaimed. “He can’t just fire you like that!”

“He can and he did.” Carol kept her eyes on the task at hand. If she looked at Zosia, she might just crack. “Don’t worry, I can still give you rides to work.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Zosia became frustrated with the security guard standing between them. “Do you mind?”

The sharpness in her voice was striking, but the security officer didn’t seem as concerned. He simply spoke into his radio, requesting another officer for assistance. Carol packed up the last box and set it on the hand cart security had provided her.

“I’ll talk to him.” Zosia nodded. “I’ll make this right. You don’t deserve to be fired because of me.”

“Because of you?” Carol couldn’t help her indignant laugh at the preposterous notion. “I’m the one who was on probation. I’m the one who ruined Thanksgiving, made you seize, and ran from the cops. I’m the one who – who cut you…” She caught Zosia’s eyes, and her composure was starting to falter. She took a steadying breath, and finished her spiel with a dangerous shake in her voice. “I’m just a fuck up, Zo. Always have been, always will be. So, you’re better off not getting intwined in all this bullshit because I’ll just drag you down with me.”

A tear fell from her cheek before she could even think to swipe it away. Another security officer arrived, and was instructed to keep Professor Rybak under control. It was a needless effort, as she had quieted down after Carol’s self-deprecating words. Carol was escorted out of her office, as a crowd of onlookers had gathered. She spared Zosia a glance, but there was no smile on her face. Only frustration.

“We’ll fix this,” Zosia assured.

Carol had no intentions of fixing anything.

“I’ll see you after school.”

------------------------

The only reason Carol wasn’t plastered was due to her prior obligation to drive Zosia home. So, instead of drowning herself at the bar, she visited the Georgia O’Keeffe museum. It was a place her and Helen used to frequent, but Carol hadn’t been in a long time. It felt odd going all by herself, but Carol had to force herself to swallow a hard truth she had been ignoring. The rest of her life would be spent alone – she may as well get used to it.

If Carol couldn’t drink to distract herself from losing her job, digging up old memories with Helen was sure to do the trick. So, she visited the museum, had lunch at their favorite diner, and people watched on the Rio Grande. As much as she wanted to enjoy herself – Hell, feel anything – she just felt numb. She didn’t even remember driving back to campus.

Zosia was waiting outside. She didn’t even let Carol come to a full stop before she was opening the door and hopping in. “I’ve been in Dean Winters’ office all day lobbying for you,” she said in a rush as she buckled up.

Carol pulled out of the parking lot, only partially listening. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, and I’ve also been looking through the handbook. It says that if a tenured professor violates the code of conduct, then their case is brought before the school board for review.”

“Uh huh.”

“But that could take days for them to investigate and assemble a case, maybe even weeks,” Zosia continued, talking with her hands. “So, there was no way they had consensus overnight. The dean just made a decision on a whim! They don’t have just cause if there’s not even an investigation. I say, we get you a lawyer and we fight this thing head on.”

“Uh huh.”

Zosia’s expression fell, and she blinked deliberately. “Carol, are you listening to me?”

She let out a heavy sigh as they came up to a red light. “I am, it’s just… I don’t see the point in fighting it.”

“So that you don’t lose your job,” Zosia said pointedly.

Carol shook her head, completely defeated. “This was bound to happen sooner or later. I’ll be fine. I’ve got enough residuals from Wycaro to keep me afloat until I can find something else.” She glanced at Zosia’s grimace as the light turned green. “Look, I’m thankful that you want to fight for me, but… it’s a losing battle. Don’t waste your time.”

Zosia grew quiet, and the rest of the ride was completed in an uneasy silence. Carol pulled up to Zosia’s apartment. The car crawled to a stop in the same spot where she had left tire marks yesterday. Yesterday felt like years ago. Zosia falling asleep on Carol’s lap felt like a lifetime ago. Carol cut the engine and waited, but Zosia didn’t budge. She sat with her arms crossed and was practically pressed against the door.

There were so many things left unsaid. Their friendship had already been resting on unsteady ground, and Carol was about to shove Zosia right off the edge with her nihilism. Whatever bond remained between them was breaking before her eyes. Carol was just about as numb as she could get, and before she spent the whole weekend drowning herself in liquor, she had to get some things off her chest. She owed Zosia compassion at the very least.

“When Helen died…” Carol drew a shaky breath. “I didn’t think I could do it. That I could keep going, and find something to care about. My teaching job was the last thing I had, and without it…” Tears were starting to well in Carol’s eyes, but she let them come. The humiliation of crying was worth it to feel something. “… without it, I’m not sure I would have lasted long.”

Carol’s voice broke, and she forced herself to continue, looking Zosia in the eye. “But then, I met you. And I was an asshole, naturally, but you did something I never would have expected. You just accepted it. I came at you with the ugliest parts of me, even cut you across the face, and you just accepted me. I’ve just… I’ve always had to change the way I act around people to keep them around. Even my own family. Even my own…”

She stopped herself short. Helen had been brought up enough for one day. Carol took a deep breath and got back on track. “My point is, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to be happy again. Then, I met you, and every day I come to work just so I can see your smiling face.” Carol couldn’t stop her tears even if she wanted to, and Zosia’s eyes were just as wet. “But now, this chapter is over, and I can’t close this book without saying thank you. For everything. It has been an honor to share a classroom with you, Professor Rybak.”

Carol let out a deep breath as all her feeling laid bare between them. Even if this was it – if there was nothing between them to salvage – Carol could at least find comfort in knowing she told Zosia just how much she affected her. Because at the end of the day, it wasn’t that rage beneath the surface, or the fluttering in Carol’s chest that mattered. What mattered was how Zosia felt. That was how it should have always been. And if the only thing Zosia wanted was closure for their complicated relationship, then Carol would give it to her. Carol would have given her anything.

She waited for some kind of reply. Some kind of acknowledgment of everything she just spewed out at her. But Zosia didn’t speak. She didn’t react in any way Carol expected. There wasn’t an outburst or even a quiet goodbye. Zosia simply leaned forward, cupped Carol’s face in her soft palms, and pulled her into a kiss.

Carol’s heart stopped, and her breath hitched. All that fear and doubt bouncing around in her skull was stilled by the firm press of Zosia’s lips. All of the stolen glances and flirty remarks weren’t imaginary. That numbness that had been clouding her mind melted away, and all she could feel was her heart start up once more, until it was a fluttery mess. Carol moved her lips against her, desperate to return the sentiment. The whole world around them stopped while they both savored the moment.

When Zosia finally pulled back, Carol could breathe again, despite being lost in those big doe eyes. Zosia’s thumb trailed from the corner of Carol’s mouth and down her chin. She hesitated to speak, reluctant to let the moment go. Zosia finally breathed as well, and disturbed the silence that wove its way between their trembling lips and tepid breaths.

“Don’t give up on being happy, Carol. Chase it.”

She hesitated as her eyes lingered on Carol’s lips, then she pulled away, taking all of her warmth with her. She unbuckled herself unceremoniously, and stepped out of the car without another word. Carol was frozen in disbelief. All she could do was watch Zosia leave, taking every last bit of Carol’s heart with her.

Chapter Text

Carol used to love the sound of train horns. Fond childhood memories of walking the tracks on summer nights were tied to the lonesome sound. At Camp Freedom Falls, when she would be locked in solitary confinement for fraternizing, she could hear the faint horns blowing in the distance. She’d lay awake, wondering where that train may be going, and wishing like hell she could hop on. She didn’t care if it took her to the plains, the mountains, or the coast. She would have gone anywhere. While the train horn would always drift off into the night, it served as a reminder that there was so much more out there. A whole world full of people that were vastly different from the ones that wanted to change her. There was something better at the end of the tracks.

Carol used to love the sound of train horns.

Used to.

That lonesome sound that once brought her comfort was now a source of despair. Helen’s untimely end had been woven into the bellowing tones. Sometimes, when Carol was too drunk to stand and too restless to sleep, the distant wail of a train horn sounded an awful lot like Helen calling out to her. That haunting noise would slip through her walls, and crack the façade; she could only ever answer the call with sobs of betrayal and shattered glass to the wall.

Even as Carol paced about her home, still jittery from Zosia kissing her, Helen’s presence lingered. Because no matter how badly she wanted it – to build something with Zosia – it still felt like a betrayal. She couldn’t move on. Not without closure.

The bedroom wasn’t as oppressive as usual. Carol was able to enter with little anguish, and stood above Helen’s fading impression in the linens. Although she was raised Catholic, Carol had never been a believer of a higher power. She thought that no loving God would have let her suffer the way she had. Nevertheless, Carol knelt beside Helen’s side of the bed, hands clasped and head bowed, prepared to send off a prayer of sorts. If by some miracle there was an afterlife, she wanted to make sure Helen could hear her. It took a few false starts for Carol to finally speak to her wife.

“I wasn’t the best partner I could have been. I drank too much, lost my temper, and complained like it was my job.” Carol clicked her tongue. She could already feel tears welling in her eyes. “I know that I was hard to love. And with you being gone, I thought… I thought that was it for me. You were my person. And you still are, but… I don’t want to live the rest of my life alone.” The vacant room swallowed her words, offering nothing in return.

“I met someone,” Carol admitted after the air had become stagnant. “She’s so kind, and clever, and beautiful… you would have loved her.” She let out a wistful chuckle. “I don’t know what it is she sees in me. You of all people know what a piece of work I am. But she just brings out this part of me I thought was gone, and every fiber of my body is telling me to go for it.”

She picked up her head, and gazed across the impression in the bed. It was fainter than ever. Carol leaned in close, then closer still. The sheets smelled of nothing except dust. Her presence was all but gone. Carol’s voice trembled as she pressed her forehead to the mattress, desperate to cling to those last threads of connection.

“I want to let myself feel again, Helen. But I’m scared. Scared of stepping forward, scared of forgetting you, scared of opening myself up just to lose someone all over again.” She drew a shaky breath. “No one can ever replace you, but I don’t want her to slip away.”

A silence settled between Carol and the empty room, but for the first time in a long time, that silence felt less suffocating. She didn’t know if Helen could hear her. She didn’t know if she even believed in any of this. Still, Carol held onto the hope that somewhere, somehow, Helen was listening and she understood.

Maybe Zosia was right. Maybe happiness wasn’t something that happened to you; maybe it was something you chased. And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to try. A low moan rumbled through the bones of the house. One all too familiar and serendipitous. Kismet, as Zosia had called it. Because by some stroke of luck, Helen had heard her prayer, and she sent a sign.

Somewhere across the desert, a train let out a lonesome wail and pierced the silence.

What little composure Carol had was shattered. An ugly sob squeezed past her teeth, and shook her shoulders. That ache that could never be soothed took over, and Carol clutched the sheets she had been so careful not to disturb. She pressed her face into Helen’s pillow, tears and snot sullying the final resting place. Perhaps, given time to collect herself, Carol could have come up with something more profound to say to her wife. But in that moment of heightened emotion, all she could do was mutter in anguish.

“I miss you, I miss you, I miss you…”

The train whistle receded out into the dusky Chihuahuan desert, until it was nothing but a suggestion on the wind. The sobs became sniffles, and the gasps became slow breaths. Carol collected herself, finally lifting her head, and returning to the present. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose a runny mess, but that ache in her chest was starting to ebb. Carol wiped her eyes and stood, feeling just a fraction lighter. She looked out at the bed, Helen’s form erased by her emotional breakdown. The bed was no longer a memorial. Just a heap of blankets and pillows. Carol took a shaky breath, accepting that this place was no longer sacred.

It was time.

She traced her fingers along the tear-soaked pillowcase, caressing Helen’s ghost one last time, then started the somber task of stripping the bed. She unsheathed the pillows, giving each of them a good fluff. The dusty duvet cover was shed, and the ivory sheets were balled up with the rest of the linens. Carol scooped up the load, and gave the formless bed a final once over. She went to the washer, and doused her bedding in a copious amount of detergent.

As the agitator spun, Carol paced back past her bedroom. The empty bed now felt sterile. Vacant. Maybe one day she’d give it life again, but for now, it belonged to no one. Carol closed the bedroom door, and made her way back to the living room. She pulled out her phone, and left Helen with a parting message.

Sat Dec 6 at 6:42 PM
Carol: You’ll always be my person.

She closed out of the messages before she could start reminiscing again. Instead, she navigated to her contacts and made the call she was finally brave enough to face. Zosia picked up on the first ring.

“What’s the plan?” Carol asked. “How are we going to fight this?”

----------------------------------------

As Dean Winters stepped out of his car, he had the exact look on his face Carol had been hoping for. He knew he fucked up.

At least a hundred protestors gathered at the main entrance, all toting signs and shouting chants, demanding Carol’s reinstatement. Carol herself hadn’t expected such a turnout. When Zosia suggested contacting her epilepsy support group, Carol thought maybe a dozen people would show at most. But as it turned out, Carol had touched many people with her story of solidarity. Not only had she stopped the fun run from being canceled, but she also broke the law just to ensure her friend hadn’t died during an epileptic event. Combine those factors with Zosia’s silver tongue, and a crowd was sure to form.

Aside from the epilepsy group, there was also a great deal of students joining in. Not only from Carol’s and Zosia’s classes, but from Professor Diabaté’s class as well. He had led his French students out into the parking lot, offering extra credit for those who could shed convincing tears. While Carol deeply appreciated his solidarity, the crying was a bit much.

Carol’s portion of the group project proved to be critical. She gave Shannon, the mayor’s ex-wife, a call in hopes of pulling some strings to get the local news to show. Carol didn’t even have to pull the ‘dead wife’ card. As it turned out, through Shannon’s political connections, she had become aware of some shady inside business surrounding the college. Given her ex-husband’s involvement, she was overjoyed to bring it to light. She took her place in front of multiple news cameras, expertly shedding tears without a single smear in her makeup.

“It’s just not fair,” she blubbered into the microphones. “Carol was widowed just a few months ago, and now she’s being fired for trying to save someone’s life? And right before Christmas too. It’s just evil I tell you. Evil.”

“And how do you think this will affect the college’s image?” One of the reporters asked.

“Terribly. But you know, it’s not the only way Scott Winters has been bending the rules.” Her tears dried up rather quickly, a smug expression replacing her sorrow. “UNM received a 3.5 million dollar grant to restore their facilities, but only a third of that money went to actual repairs. The rest of it? Unaccounted for.”

A few different reporters started bombarding her with follow-up questions. Before she could delve any deeper, Dean Winters came sprinting over and snatched a microphone. His eyes were wide with panic, and there was a slight sweat on his brow.

“The funds are accounted for. I’m not sure where Mrs. Keller received this false information…”

The dean took over the interview, trying to save face, but the damage was already done. Satisfied, Shannon sauntered back to Carol over by the entrance.

“There. That should do the trick,” Shannon said, dusting her palms.

“Wow, you really got him sweating,” she praised. “How did you know he was embezzling the grant money anyway?”

“You hear all sorts of things at the Country Club. Scotty’s wife has some pretty loose lips after a couple of daiquiris,” Shannon leaned in and whispered. “And I don’t just mean blabbing.” She pantomimed a crude gesture involving a jerking movement and her tongue in her cheek. Carol held back her laughter.

Zosia just so happened to walk up, missing the context of the lewd gesture. She cleared her throat, hands folded neatly behind her back. “I hope that’s a sign things are going well…”

Carol’s cheeks grew hot. Beyond the manic planning they had done over the phone, Carol hadn’t talked to Zosia in private. Even their carpool that morning was canceled, as Zosia’s friends had picked her up early to collect materials for posters. They hadn’t talked about the kiss, let alone the strange new energy that hung between them. There was unresolved tension sitting just below the surface, and not a scrap of privacy to work it out. So, while Zosia was more than happy to help Carol get her job back, her unease was palpable.

“Things are going great,” Carol gestured to the dean’s impromptu interview. “He’s getting grilled as we speak, all thanks to Shannon.”

Zosia turned to the plastic woman with curly red trusses. She shook her hand. “Thank you for your help today. I’m Zosia, by the way. Carol’s…” her hesitation was slight, but noticeable, “friend.”

Shannon hummed, looking the professor up and down. “You’re the friend who had the fundraiser, right?”

She smiled upon being recognized. “That would be me.”

Shannon nodded along. “Well, you picked a good one. Carol is as loyal as they come.”

The compliment caught Carol off guard. She had never put much thought into Shannon’s opinion of her. If anything, she expected it to be negative. The comment was unusual to say the least.

“Yes, she’s proven as much,” Zosia concurred.

Shannon looked around at the crowd. “Oh, Carol, I wanted you to meet someone…” She located someone in the masses and waved them over, but neither Carol nor Zosia were prepared for who it was. None other than Koumba sauntered over, his heart-eyes fixated on the mayor’s ex-wife. Shannon stood on her tip-toes and gave him a peck, making Carol recoil.

“I wanted you to meet my friend Carol,” she chirped to him, then turned to the shocked professors. “Carol, this is – “

“We’ve met,” Carol deadpanned. She rubbed her eyes, but Casanova McBoner was still holding Shannon’s hand. “I’m sorry, either someone laced my coffee, or I just woke up in the Twilight Zone. How did – when did – “ She stammered and stuttered, but nothing intelligible came out.

Koumba’s ego was properly inflated from Carol’s disbelief. “Oh, Carol. Just because you don’t taste this fruit does not mean others don’t find it sweet.” He wiggled his brows, and Shannon let out an ugly snort at his innuendo.

Carol’s jaw was still on the floor. “So, the woman you’ve been fucking is the mayor’s ex-wife?”

Her crass language earned her a slight nudge from Zosia.

“Oh, please,” Koumba interlaced his finger’s with Shannon’s, kissing her knuckles seductively. “We don’t fuck, we make love. N'est-ce pas, ma chérie?”

Shannon giggled like an idiot, batting her eyelashes. Carol fought the urge to vomit while Zosia congratulated the happy couple on finding each other. The shock was slow to wash away as the two wondered off into the crowd like lovesick teenagers, leaving just Carol and Zosia by themselves. It was far from silent, with all of the chatter and chanting surrounding them, but there was a heaviness to the lull between them. Carol forced herself to speak, but she couldn’t reach Zosia’s eyes.

“So, um, thanks for putting all of this together.”

“My pleasure.”

Carol glanced out over the crowd. “I didn’t expect so many people to have nothing to do with their Monday morning.”

Zosia furrowed her brows. “Carol, they’re here because of you. Everyone is chanting your name because they want to see you happy.”

Carol’s happiness had never received such attention, so it was a little tough to digest. She found it rather unbelievable, actually. Zosia’s persuasiveness and unyielding optimism seemed like a much more likely culprit for the turnout.

“Well, if I can at least finish out the semester, I’ll consider it a win.” Carol peeked up at that soulful gaze of hers, but couldn’t hold it for long. She let a crack in the sidewalk take all of her attention. “Thank you. Even if it doesn’t work, it’s nice to know someone cares.”

“Of course I care about you.” Zosia nodded, the tension between them rearing its ugly head once more. Her smile faltered slightly, and her voice came out quietly. “Carol, it wasn’t my intention to overstep on Friday – “

“You didn’t.” Carol quickly shut down the apology. She wanted to say something more reassuring – something to show Zosia that the feeling was mutual – but standing under her hot gaze gave Carol cold feet. God, she hadn’t done this in so long, she started to doubt everything. She cleared her throat, her voice shakier than it was initially. “You didn’t.”

Zosia’s features softened. Hopefully she had received the message that her advancements weren’t unwelcome. Carol was just awkward. There wasn’t much time to dwell, as Dean Winters was marching their direction. Back to business.

“Carol,” he growled through gritted teeth. “My office. Now.”

She blinked at him deliberately. “Who do you think you’re barking orders at?” Carol stuffed her hands in her pockets and tilted her head. “Last time I checked, you’re not my boss, Scott.”

He huffed out of exasperation, and checked his tone. “Carol, may I please speak to you in my office?”

“See? Was that so hard?” She started to follow along at a leisurely pace, then gestured for Zosia to come with. “Professor Rybak, care to join us?”

“I’d love to.”

Once in his office, Carol took a seat and leaned back, making herself comfortable. “That’s a nice Rolls-Royce you got out there, Scott. The college must’ve given you one hell of a bonus this year.”

His discomfort was obvious by the way he shifted in his own seat. Not so stealthily, he pulled down his sleeve, and concealed his shiny new Rolex. “I thought you of all people could find a way to handle this civilly. Not this – this spectacle.”

Carol snorted. “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea. My idea involved explosives, mild vandalism, and an audit of UNM. We chose the peaceful route.”

He glanced between the two, eye twitching with ire. Angry men were nothing to Carol Sturka. When they went low, she went lower, and there was still plenty for her to dig up on the dean. Carol’s cold and aloof demeaner around the whole situation was enough to make Dean Winters falter, then finally crumble. She had him beat. He let out a heavy sigh and conceded.

“You want your job back? Fine, you can have it. Just get these people off my campus."

Zosia started to rejoice, but Carol cut the celebration short. “I don’t want my old job back.”

The two looked at her dumbfounded before she elaborated.

“I realize that full-time employment just isn’t in the cards right now, so I’d like to be hired back part-time. Also, I don’t want to move to Taffler. Professor Rybak has been a good influence on me, and I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if her and I continue to share a classroom.” She glanced to Zosia, unwavering. “That is, if she’ll have me.”

Dean Winters was perplexed by the request. “I… I suppose.” He looked to the woman standing at Carol’s side. “Is that alright with you?”

Zosia was still processing Carol’s compromise as well. She looked to Carol, hopeful and touched. “That’s more than alright.”

--------------------------------

The cork flew across the room, eliciting cheers from all. Koumba quickly poured the champaign into some flutes before too much could be lost to the floor. The bar was alive with jubilation, and at the center, Zosia called everyone’s attention to UNM’s favorite curmudgeon.

“A toast!” Zosia announced, hoisting up a glass. “To Professor Sturka and her dedication. No matter what life throws at her, she gets back up and keeps fighting. Na zdrowie!”

Whoops and whistles came from the crowd, and Carol was beside herself. With the exception of her Wycaro fan club, she rarely received recognition. Zosia’s praise was one thing, but this crowd of happy faces celebrating her resilience was overwhelming. Carol didn’t get many wins in life, and her cheeks hurt from smiling.

Koumba took a glass for himself, then handed one to Manousos, who politely accepted. He was still awkward around the group of friends, but Carol insisted that he join them. It was the least she could do after the events of Thanksgiving.

“Drink,” Carol encouraged him. “It’s on me.”

“Gracias,” he nodded, taking a sip.

His English was minimal, but Zosia had been teaching him some basics on nights when she stayed late. Conversely, Carol would come in early a few days during the week to brush up on her Spanish. The broken Spanglish between them usually got the point across, and they could bond over their mutual distain for messy students and Koumba’s antics.

Koumba was indulging in the champaign before he remembered something important. He quickly tapped Manousos’s shoulder. “¿Recuerdas lo que te enseñé? Say it! Say it!”

Manousos swallowed, hesitant to say anything at all, much less whatever it was Koumba demanded. With a little more encouragement, he reluctantly held up his glass and loudly cheered. “What’s up bitches!”

Everyone around them exploded into laughter, while the janitor turned red as a tomato. His voice was sharp, and a vein bulged in his neck as he scolded Koumba, ordering him to tell him what he said. Professor Diabaté was laughing too hard to care about Manousos shaking him and demanding answers. All of the teasing and laughter did something to ease Carol’s mind. Everything felt so good and normal. Like this was the way she was supposed to feel.

In the midst of the excitement, Zosia tried to hand Carol a glass of champaign. She looked at her with an air of bewilderment, but Zosia merely shrugged.

“We can take a cab.”

Carol hesitated for only a moment before politely declining. “I think I’d rather be sober for this.”

Zosia smiled proudly, and rubbed Carol’s shoulder. The numbing of alcohol was the last thing she wanted in that moment. She had a buzz from the energy in the room and Zosia at her side, and she wanted to feel every last bit of it.

Professor Rybak was happily glued to Carol’s hip. Despite so many familiar faces, she hadn’t even wandered off once to socialize. She sipped on her bubbly, and perched on the stool right beside Carol. “Why don’t you offer your girlfriend a drink, Koumba?”

Manousos had finished his grumbling and wandered off, but Koumba still lingered by his fellow professors. The hint to buzz off went completely over his head as his lips became a thin line, and he scanned the room for Shannon. “I would, but… she had a few drinks before everyone got here.”

As if on cue, Shannon butted her way through the crowd, practically throwing herself into Koumba’s arms. Her eyes were glassy and her words a slurred mess. “Boo-boo bear! There you are! You gonna dance with me or what?”

Carol’s mouth hung open in amusement, and Zosia stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“I’ll come dance in a minute, ma chérie.” Koumba sat his glass well out of her reach. “I was just celebrating our woman of the hour.”

Shannon turned to the two women unsteadily, looking them over for just a moment. Carol was still biting back her amused grin, and Zosia waved politely. Shannon turned back to her boyfriend, loudly complaining. “Why don’t you give Carol and her girlfriend some privacy and come dance with me?”

“Girlfriend?” Carol stuttered. “She – she’s not my… we’re not…” She looked to Zosia for assistance, but she had nothing to offer. Zosia just held her tongue and looked down into her glass, as if the bubbles were the most interesting thing in the world.

It finally clicked for Koumba. He was out of his seat in a jiffy, leading his drunken lover to the dance floor, “We’ll just be on our way…”

Girlfriend. It certainly wasn’t a term Carol had even thought about throwing around, let alone so loosely. Zosia’s silence only made things worse. At least if she had denied the accusation, Carol could have simply denounced Shannon and her drunken babble. But now they were stuck again in this awkward tension. Alone in a crowd of people. Maybe Carol would need a drink after all.

Zosia finally spoke once the two were well out of earshot. “I don’t think it was meant as an insult.”

“I didn’t take it as one.” Carol settled back into her seat with her diet Pepsi. She swirled her straw around absently, ignoring the way Zosia’s knee was pressed against hers.

“Then why are you so embarrassed?”

“I don’t get embarrassed.” A blush crept up Carol’s neck, despite her denial.

It only served to amuse Zosia further. A sly grin spread across her face, and she spun her stool to face Carol head on. She leaned against the bar top, meek and unassuming. “I find that very hard to believe. In fact, I would say that’s an outright lie.”

Carol tried to quickly change the subject, and knock Zosia down a few pegs. “You’re acting like you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. What about what you said in the hospital? You told me there was something you were nervous to tell me. Something you couldn’t bring yourself to admit.”

Zosia’s smile slowly faded. Bingo.

“Ah, see? Not so easy, is it?” Carol sat up a little straighter, and leaned in, taking control of the conversation. “What’s wrong? Too shy to share with the class, Miss Rybak?”

Zosia sucked her teeth, gaining some kind of courage. She took a deep breath and rose to Carol’s challenge. Those big, soft eyes were rather sharp as she answered, and her smile strained.

“I was embarrassed to admit that I’m infatuated with you.”

“Infatuated with me?” Carol echoed. She did her best to conceal just how much the prospect excited her. But alas, it had to have been obvious from the way her eyes lit up and her tone brightened. She was very deliberate with her questioning. “You mean your infatuation with my writing?”

Zosia gave it some thought. “Yes, your writing at first. But after getting to properly know the real Carol Sturka, so much more.”

Carol held her breath. “Like what?”

Her eyes darkened behind her glass as she hesitated to sip. “I think that’s a discussion better had in private.”

The insinuation behind her words gave Carol more than just a fluttering in her chest. She shoved her inhibition to the side, and forced herself to chase the feeling.

“Then let’s go somewhere private.”

Chapter Text

The hum of the engine and Carol’s uneven breaths occupied the uncomfortable silence. They were only a block or so away from the bar, and the adrenaline rush was making her drive a little faster than she should have been. Carol felt bad about ditching her party so early, but the gorgeous woman in her front seat sure helped her get over it. Zosia did look quite beautiful with the golden sunset kissing her skin. Carol still had a hard time believing that such a radiant woman could be infatuated with someone like her.

It had been a long, long time since Carol had done any of this. She had been with Helen for nearly three decades, and seducing her was sheer dumb luck. Carol was out of practice, whereas Zosia slipped into that seductive tone so easily. At the drop of a hat, Zosia could take an innocent comment and twist it into something with a double meaning. She was suave and charming, like a well-oiled machine. Carol was a rusty bicycle that no one had ridden in ages.

Carol tried to muster the courage to say something alluring, but she didn’t even know where to start.

“The sunset is pretty,” she finally said.

Zosia glanced out the window. “Yes, it’s quite beautiful.”

There was a nice, long, awkward silence between them.

“I think that gas station is new,” Carol pointed ahead, heart still racing.

“I can tell that you’re nervous, Carol. Would you like me to do the talking instead?”

It was a weight off her shoulders. Carol nodded, grateful Zosia had taken pity on her poor anxious self.

“I believe we left off on all the things I admire about you.” Zosia settled back into her seat, and fixed a few stray strands of hair. “I think I’ll start with one of my favorites. Your mouth.”

Carol couldn’t help the snort that she let out. “My mouth? You mean the thing that always gets me in trouble?”

“You’re a very vocal person, Carol. You say exactly what you’re thinking, and it’s something I envy about you.” Zosia shrugged. “Also, your mouth is the only part of your body I’ve had the pleasure of tasting. I’m sure I’ll have more favorites as we get to know each other better.”

Carol gulped.

Oh boy.

“I also admire your dedication.” Zosia casually continued, as if she hadn’t just expressed her desire to taste Carol all over. “To your career, your friends, to me. When I woke up in the hospital, and you were still sleeping by my side, I knew right then that you were someone I didn’t want to lose.”

Her genuine response after such a lewd comment was giving Carol emotional whiplash. She nearly missed her turn, as she was too enamored with Zosia’s divulgence.

She turned to Carol, looking her up and down. “And I hate to sound so superficial, but your appearance has certainly drawn me in.”

Carol was confident she had broken into a sweat under Zosia’s scrutiny. She ignored the way that the comment made her stomach flip, and instead chose to disregard the compliment entirely. “Oh please, I know I’m no Marilyn Monroe. I don’t even do my makeup most days.”

“You don’t have to,” Zosia said so casually and convincingly. “You have a much more natural beauty to you. I like the days when you don’t do your makeup, and wear something a little less feminine. Like that outfit you wore with the blue vest a couple weeks ago. You looked very… handsome.”

Carol had never been called handsome before. From just about anyone else, she would have taken it as an insult. A roundabout way of saying she was manly. But the way the word dripped off of Zosia’s tongue so sweetly, made it seem like handsome wasn’t such a bad thing to be. Still, Carol wasn’t one to let herself relish in a compliment, so she quickly turned the attention away from herself.

“If we’re talking looks, you have me beat by a landslide,” she laughed. “The first time we met, I thought for sure you were some kind of supermodel who stumbled into my classroom.”

Zosia’s warm chuckle gave her butterflies. “You flatter me, Professor Sturka.”

“Well, it’s true. Sometimes I just look at you and…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered all the times she had become unintentionally aroused on the clock.

“And what?” Zosia prompted, her gaze unyielding.

“And just… think about how unreal you are.”

Something in Zosia’s expression hinted at her not believing that to be the truth, but Carol was pulling into the parking lot, and the issue was left alone. Carol rolled into her usual spot, gently shifting into park. If she thought her nerves were bad before, they were ten times worse now that she couldn’t distract herself with driving. It was just her and Zosia, no interruptions, and nothing but the center console between them.

“I’m glad we finally got to hash all of this out,” Carol said, avoiding eye-contact like the plague. “Feels good to get things out in the open.”

Zosia tilted her head, examining her closely. Like she was watching her breathing. “Are you coming up?”

Carol froze for a moment. Was this really happening? She was still battling her disbelief at Zosia liking her back. And now, the ethereal being was beckoning her up for what Carol could only assume was Zosia’s long awaited first lesbian experience. The pressure was mounting, and Carol’s hand trembled ever so slightly as she turned the key and cut the engine. “Of course.”

Carol followed her towards the building, jittery as ever, shuddering even more as the wind whipped across the open space. Zosia on the other hand was cool as a cucumber. Even the chill in the air wasn’t making her shiver, despite her rust colored blazer hanging in the crook of her arm rather than over her shoulders. Zosia led her up the stairs, her loafers clacking against the tile, mirroring the way Carol’s heart pounded against her ribs. When they finally reached Zosia’s apartment, she let Carol in, and locked the door behind them.

Carol cleared her throat, looking anywhere but her coworker. She gazed at the photos of various trips hung up on the walls, as if Zosia’s selfie in front of Christ the Redeemer would give her courage. She would need all the courage she could get. Carol realized that neither of them were talking, and finally looked to Zosia to try and gauge what was going through her mind.

Zosia leaned on the door, patiently waiting against the sealed exit. She didn’t ask any questions, nor did she tease. She just watched and waited. The warmth behind her eyes was clouded by both the dim lighting and a strong desire brimming just below the surface. Her smile, or rather lack thereof, only made her expression more enigmatic. She wasn’t her normal bubbly self. That cheerful mask had slipped right off her face as soon as the door closed behind them. But she wasn’t angry or upset. Far from it. Carol took just a moment to decipher what sensation Zosia was feeling, and then it clicked.

She was hungry.

Carol tried to swallow, but her throat was too tight. She inched closer, like she was approaching a dangerous animal. But Zosia didn’t lunge for her throat, she just waited, breath steady and pupils dilated. Her composure was astounding. Carol was certain she herself was trembling. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Carol’s unsuccessful attempt at making the first move was enough to make Zosia’s lips curl into a taunting smile. She leaned in closer, and broke the silence where Carol failed to.

“What’s wrong?” She watched Carol’s lips, hot breath mingling in the narrow space between them. “Too shy to share with the class, Ms. Sturka?”

Carol couldn’t think of a witty comeback. All she could think about was how bad she wanted to make Zosia regret teasing her. Because Carol might have been anxious, but she definitely wasn’t shy. Zosia’s snarky little comment was the final push she needed. The last thread of inhibition snapped, and Carol lurched forward.

She capture Zosia’s lips, a hand tangling in that perfect brunette hair as she pulled her down into a heated, hungry kiss. She swallowed up the squeak of surprise Zosia had let out, not allowing their lips to part for even a second. Carol pressed past her teeth, giving Zosia the pleasure of tasting her favorite part once more. Her lips were sweet and sticky with strawberry Chapstick, and alcohol smoldered on the back of her tongue. It was intoxicating. So dizzying in fact, Carol nearly lost her balance in her frenzy of kisses.

Zosia held her steady. She refused to let Carol move away in any capacity. Her hands were anchored onto Carol’s hips, firmly holding her in place, right where she wanted her. As she kissed Carol back, she dug her fingers in, pulling her a little closer. Zosia wasn’t shy either, as she sucked and nipped at Carol’s bottom lip.

Carol let out a throaty moan. It really had been too long since she had let go, and the noises just seemed to keep coming the more she gave in. But Zosia didn’t mock her for the way she vocalized her desire. Zosia was steady and firm – confident in every swipe of her tongue and scrape of her teeth. She devoured every noise with greed, all while eliciting more from Carol’s swollen lips.

Carol wanted more. She wanted to feel her all over, taste those intimate places she had been fantasizing about, and do it all with Zosia’s hot, needy voice begging for more. Her hands traveled down Zosia’s back, massaging the taunt muscles through her thin shirt. She didn’t even hesitate as she trailed past her waist, and moved to her rear. Carol sucked Zosia’s lip between her teeth as she took both hands and squeezed her perky ass.

Carol’s back was against the wall in an instant. Their lips never separated as Zosia pinned her with all of her weight. Carol suddenly became very aware of the size difference between them. Zosia towered over her, and her hands covered a considerable amount of real estate as they migrated to her abdomen. She was practically immobilized, unable to wiggle free from Zosia’s pressure – not that she would ever dream of it – and she found it surprisingly arousing.

Goosebumps prickled up and down Carol’s arms as Zosia slipped her hands beneath her shirt, scratching up her stomach. Zosia’s lips managed to escape Carol’s feverish kisses long enough to kiss up her jaw. She moved right up to the cusp of Carol’s ear, her breath hot and ragged.

“May I?”

Carol was still so dizzy from kissing, it took her a moment to even register what Zosia had said. But then, one of those slender fingers teased the edge of her bra, and Carol’s heart just about exploded. She held perfectly still, as if the slightest movement might scare her off, and put an end to this impossible fantasy.

“Please,” Carol breathed.

Zosia’s fingers tactfully slipped beneath the elastic. She held the weight of her breasts for a moment, then gave a tentative squeeze. A whine escaped Carol’s throat as she all but trembled beneath the steady pressure. Her back impulsively arched towards the sensation, and she was rewarded with another squeeze. Zosia returned to Carol’s lips, stifling more of her moans.

It was pathetic. A woman of Carol’s age and experience, turned to complete mush upon being felt up. Carol felt like an idiot for how much of her reaction was out of her control. The noises, the trembling, the way her hips bucked towards Zosia’s thigh that was just out of reach. It hadn’t even been more than five minutes and she was a wreck. She hadn’t realized just how much she was neglecting her needs. And God, did she need Zosia.

In an all too familiar move, Zosia’s thumbs swirled in firm circles right over Carol’s nipples. She jerked at the sensation. Her mind was foggy, as every drop of blood in her body was going elsewhere. Surely her heavy breathing didn’t help. She shuddered, and her knees started to buckle, but Zosia kept her pinned to the wall.

Zosia paused her invasion of Carol’s mouth as her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Everything alright, Carol?” There was a clear hesitation, and Zosia’s hands stilled instantly. She leaned back just far enough to catch her eyes. “Carol?”

She blinked a few times, but her vision was still blurry. Panic started to rise in her chest.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Zosia’s hands slipped out of her shirt, and she slowly eased off of her. As the pressure and heat of Zosia’s presence receded, Carol started to regret saying anything at all. Zosia was cautious as she took hold of her arms and led her to the sofa. She lowered her down to the cushion, then hurried off to the kitchen. Carol let her head flop back, still faint and very much out of breath. Zosia quickly returned with a glass of water. She sat down, encouraging Carol to drink it.

She took a long sip of the cool water, and some color came back to her face. Maybe it was a good thing they stopped. Surely Carol would have collapsed.

“Feeling any better?” Zosia asked, genuinely concerned.

Carol sat up a little, and swiped the dribble of water from her lip. “Aside from the embarrassment, yeah. I feel better.”

Zosia tilted her head, a coy smile despite the circumstances. “Strange. I thought you didn’t get embarrassed…”

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t give into the teasing. Carol sat her glass on the coffee table, then patted her cheeks, willing herself to stay in the moment. She let out a huff, still breathless. “Sorry about that. I think I got a little… overexcited.”

“Oh please, don’t apologize. I find it quite adorable, actually.”

Hopefully she was still pale enough that her blush wasn’t obvious in the ambient lighting. Carol ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. She hoped she hadn’t scared her off. “Did you – um – did you want to keep going?”

Zosia’s expression softened. She reached out and rubbed Carol’s knee. “We can, but we don’t have to. I know this is a lot all at once.” She looked away bashfully. “And perhaps I was a little overexcited as well…”

“No, no, you were great. That was… that was really good,” Carol assured.

And it was great, but perhaps she had gotten a little ahead of herself. Carol didn’t get around too much before she settled down with Helen. And after being monogamous for 27 years, the task of giving herself over to someone new was daunting. Helen was very familiar with Carol’s body. She ignored the imperfections, and was privy to the places where Carol was the most insecure. But with Zosia, everything was new and unexplored. It terrified her to a certain extent.

Carol’s face must have given away her trepidation. Zosia inched closer and smoothed out the sandy strands of hair she had ruffled. “It’s ok if you want to stop for now, Carol.”

As much as she had psyched herself up, Carol ended up psyching herself out. She would have felt ashamed if it was anyone but Zosia. Sweet, patient, understanding Zosia. Carol nodded faintly, then was pulled into an embrace. She squeezed back, sinking into her.

“I promise I’ve had my boobs touched before,” Carol mumbled against her shoulder. “I’m not a virgin, I’m just…”

“Sensitive?” Zosia finished for her.

Carol sat back to meet her with narrowed eyes. “I was going to say rusty. What do you mean sensitive? I’m not sensitive.”

There was that look again. The one that called her an idiot without calling her an idiot.

Carol was starting to get flustered as she rapidly defended herself. “Look, I just didn’t want to fuck up your first time with a woman all because I’m rusty. It’s been a while since I’ve… you know, been with anyone. Even with Helen, we…” She stopped herself. Her new romantic prospect had heard enough about her dead wife. She sucked on her lips, then shrugged. “I just want to be good for you.”

There was a flicker of something dark across her face, but she quickly replaced it with that award-winning smile. “You’ve been very good for me, Carol. I have no doubts that when you’re ready for something more, you’ll do great. For now, we’ll go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. I’ve enjoyed all of it so far.”

She stroked down the side of Carol’s face, caressing her so tenderly. For a moment, she could see it in Zosia’s eyes. Infatuation. The fiery passion between them had cooled down to a simmer, but it was still palpable. Things were moving fast, and Zosia was more than happy to pump the breaks so Carol didn’t have a heart attack. It was baby steps. Carol could work with baby steps. She’d save all of the mind-blowing sex for later when she had some more moxie and a better understanding of Zosia’s preferences.

Carol turned towards her touch, and softly kissed Zosia’s palm. It was hard to be anxious in her warm presence, and she let out a heavy sigh of satisfaction.

Zosia’s voice was just as soft as her touch. “Let’s order some food and watch a movie. I’ll let you pick this time.”

Carol chuckled into Zosia’s hand. “Every time I think I’m happy, you just keep making me happier.”

Zosia gave her a peck on the cheek, and her voice came out in a purr.

“And it only gets better.”

Chapter Text

“I find it interesting that you interpreted it that way. Because I’ve always seen 1984 as a love story,” Professor Sturka said, flipping through her student’s final paper.

The student had stayed after class for some insight on his work, but he was having a hard time agreeing with any of his professor’s points. He adjusted his glasses, unconvinced. “A love story? 1984 is the antithesis of love. He hates Julia by the end of the story.”

She clicked her tongue. “I disagree,” Carol sat her readers up on her head and spoke with her hands. “Think about it this way. You’re in a society where everyone is forced to think the same way. The government knows everything about you. Even your own thoughts aren’t your own. Then, you meet a woman who wants to break free, just like you. You commit the crime of falling in love, and the punishment is death. How do you get out of it?”

He pursed his lips as he thought. She loved this part. Challenging the way her students interpreted text. To top things off, it was one of Carol’s favorite novels to teach in her Classic Literature class. She could talk about the themes for hours. But her nerdy rant was derailed when Professor Rybak entered the room.

Things had been going well between them. Great even. Since their needy make out session and heart to heart last week, they had been a lot more comfortable around each other. Carol noticed herself talking more openly, and when Zosia touched her, she didn’t freeze up anymore. Every touch was welcome. Even just the graze of her finger tips when handing over the projector remote was savored.

But the best part of it all was the goodbye kisses. Carol would drive Zosia home after work, and they’d share an amorous kiss. Slow and sweet. Like Zosia was leaving on some long journey with no clue when she’d be back. Of course, she’d always see her the next morning to carpool to work, but that didn’t make kissing Zosia any less meaningful. It quickly became Carol’s favorite part of the day. Seeing her again in the morning was a very close second.

Carol’s whole day centered around Zosia, and it proved to be the best distraction she could have asked for. She found herself falling asleep faster at night. No longer haunted by the grave in her bedroom, she actually looked forward to dreaming. The faster she slept, the faster she woke, and the faster she got to watch Zosia smile and wave as she walked up to her car. It was quickly becoming an addiction, and she had a feeling it would only get worse.

Even as Professor Rybak approached the front of the class to prepare for her lecture, Carol was completely distracted. It didn’t help that she was wearing that navy pantsuit that fit her just perfectly, and that high ponytail just begging to be pulled back while Carol left hickeys on her neck.

“Stop being in love,” the student announced.

Carol snapped back to the present, shocked that she had made her inappropriate thoughts so obvious and that her student was so bold. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Winston did. He stopped being in love so he could live,” he concluded.

A wave of relief washed over her as she realized he was still talking about the book. Zosia approached, and Carol scooted against the desk so she could squeeze past her. Zosia’s hip grazed against her as she moved to the other side of the desk, digging out instruction materials. Carol cursed the way the slight touch sent a shockwave straight to her clit. She stood up straighter and cleared her throat, trying to remember what they were talking about. Still, she watched Zosia out of the corner of her eye.

“If it was that easy to stop loving someone, then there’d be no great love songs,” Carol said. “No tear-jerking plays or heart-wrenching novels. Love isn’t something you can just turn off. It’s biological. Humans were built to love.”

Zosia shuffled some papers, a pleasant expression resting on her face. She was trying her best to not be distracting, but Carol was a goner the moment she walked in. Carol’s eyes lingered before returning to her student. She knew she was blushing, and cursed her reaction. It was impossible to suppress.

“Humans were built to love,” she reiterated. “Winston was so in love with Julia that he brainwashed himself so she could live. He didn’t love Big Brother. He loved Julia so much that he sacrificed his own freewill for her.”

Zosia moved to the blackboard. She scrawled some instructions in chalk, but Carol was watching the sliver of skin that peeked out beneath the hem of her shirt. God, she was pathetic. Drooling over scraps like a hungry dog.

“So, love is giving up?” The student questioned, still not fully convinced.

“No. Love is losing your mind.” Carol handed the student’s paper back, wrapping up their session. “You can submit this now if you’d like. From what I’ve seen, it’s more than likely a passing grade. But if you want to excel, take some time tonight and reread the last few chapters with our conversation in mind. I think it’ll really change your perspective.”

The student mulled it over for a moment, then accepted the challenge. “I think I’ll give it a shot. Thank you, Professor Sturka.”

Carol gave a wave as he headed out the door. The moment it latched, Carol spun right around, giving Zosia all of her attention. To her surprise, Professor Rybak was just as eager to speak in the newfound solitude.

“I do believe that was a Wycaro quote, no?”

“Lucasia has a lot of good one-liners.” Carol shrugged.

Zosia smiled to herself. She sat down her chalk and returned to her lesson plan on the desk. Her gaze lingered on Carol for a brief moment. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh, these old things?” Carol trilled her lips as she waved her glasses around flippantly. “I just use them to read from time to time.”

Zosia hummed. “Well, they look nice on you.”

She couldn’t help the smile that was hijacking her face. She hooked her readers onto her collar, and fussed with her hair that had been disturbed. How pathetic could she be? Gushing over the most basic compliment, and twirling her hair like some schoolgirl. Carol became hyper aware of all of her mannerisms, so she tucked her hands into her deep pockets to put an end to all of her nervous fidgeting.

“Hey, so, um, I was thinking,” stilling her hands did nothing for her stammering, “there’s this stupid holiday walk thing down at the botanic garden. They’ve got like Christmas lights and light sculptures. It’s kind of dumb but I thought maybe we could just go check it out. We could go after finals to celebrate the end of the semester.” Zosia was listening attentively, but she didn’t answer the millisecond after Carol finished speaking. Naturally, Carol began immediately backpedaling. “I mean, we don’t have to. I’m sure you’re busy, and I’ve got… things to do too. It’s probably not even that interesting. I shouldn’t have said anything…”

Zosia let out a short laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are you – was that you trying to ask me out on a date?”

Carol sucked on her lips. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” She picked up her satchel and tried to leave, but Professor Rybak wasn’t having it. She caught Carol by the elbow, not letting her move another inch.

“Carol, I’d love to go with you.” She was still amused, and doing a poor job at hiding it. “You started self-destructing before I could tell you that I like those kinds of things. It sounds really fun.”

Carol took a deep breath and slowed down. “Ok, good. Because I already bought us tickets.”

Zosia released her, letting out a belly laugh. “You are one of a kind, Carol.”

She wanted to think of something clever to say, but her mind was buzzing. Carol had a date with Zosia. Not just sitting around her apartment, or getting drinks with coworkers, but an actual romantic date. Should she get flowers? What would she wear? It was the first time Carol had been on a first date in years. Did women still like getting flowers?

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” Zosia said, leaning against the desk.

Carol snapped out of her mental planning. “Yeah?”

“When you and I were… getting better acquainted the other day, you said something that really stood out to me. You said it was my first time with a woman.” She tilted her head. “What gave you that impression?”

Carol gave it a moment of thought, her hands migrating back to her pockets. “Well, you had mentioned Bitter Chrysalis being sort of a wake up call for you. I mean, you were married to a man, so… one would assume.”

Zosia hummed, her suspicions confirmed. “Right, you do have a habit of doing that.”

Carol averted her gaze. Because Zosia was right, assuming things was a bad habit of hers. Even when she told herself to stop doing it, she just couldn’t learn. Just like her nervous mannerisms and her short fuse. It was ingrained into her biology. Thankfully, Zosia didn’t take it too personally. In fact, she recounted her experiences rather casually, like an open book.

“The first time I ever kissed a girl was when I was thirteen. We were at a slumber party, practicing for when we got boyfriends.” She and Carol shared a laugh about it before she continued. “And I did have boyfriends. I had some girlfriends too, although, I didn’t bring them home to my mother. I tried all sorts of things in college. Traveled Europe, and tasted the local cuisine – not to be mistaken for the food,” she winked, “although, I did have some amazing Bouillabaisse in Monaco.”

The wistful smile on her face faltered ever so slightly. “And then I met Stefan. We were together for five years. We married about two years ago, but it only lasted a few months. There’s still paperwork to finalize and everything, but that’s when we split.” She forced herself past the uncomfortable subject, beaming once again as she recounted her philandering. “I always wanted to visit South America, so that was the first thing I did once I was single. And although I was traveling all by myself, I didn’t always go to bed alone.” She smirked in Carol’s direction, her voice suggestive. “Brazil was my favorite.”

Carol was still taking it all in. She finally let out a low whistle. “And to think, I’ve been calling Koumba Casanova. You’re the real skirt chaser of the bunch.”

Carol’s attempt to make light of all this information was futile. She herself could count on one hand the number of women she had slept with, and still have fingers left over. Meanwhile, Zosia had been munching her way up the Andes. It was hard not to feel intimidated. Especially with the way she was looking at Carol now. Like she was next on the menu.

“Suffice to say,” Zosia’s expression darkened. “I know my way around a woman.”

Carol cleared her throat and shuffled uncomfortably. Alas, it only seemed to encourage Zosia more. She stepped forward, invading Carol’s space, the air between them becoming taunt with uncertainty. Zosia looked her up and down, as if she were undressing her with her eyes. Panic flashed across Carol like water in a hot skillet. Was she going to kiss her? Right there in the classroom? Anyone could walk in at any moment. Carol did a double take towards the door, heart pounding like a drum.

“Am I making you nervous, Carol?”

“N-No it’s just – someone could walk in and see us.”

“Is that a problem?”

Carol cautiously took a step back, unsure if Zosia might pounce. “I just got my job back, I don’t want to lose it again because we’re… fraternizing.”

She stepped back too, easing off the gas. “Apologies. I can be as discrete as you like. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable – “

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Carol quickly amended. She couldn’t help but check the door again before continuing. “I just think we should keep work and our private life separated. The last thing we need is a rumor, or god forbid, someone catching us in the act.”

Zosia was listening with good intentions at first, but by the end of it, her lips curled into a smile. A mischievous one. She spoke low, obeying Carol’s request for discretion. “That’s right. The last thing we’d want is for someone to walk in on you humping your desk again.”

Carol froze like a deer in the headlights.

Oh God.

Her voice was as quiet as a mouse, and her face white as a ghost. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her efforts to deny the act were fruitless. Zosia held her head high with that smug look practically carved into her sharp features.

“I wouldn’t have said anything, but you don’t get embarrassed, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to share.” She lowered her voice once more, speaking a bit more sweetly rather than haughty. “Sorry, Carol, but I don’t think I’ll be forgetting that image any time soon. I daydream about it far too much.”

The classroom door creaked open, and several ESL students started to file in. Like the flip of a switch, Zosia perked up, bubbly and pleasant as ever.

“Hello, welcome!” She greeted with a wave. “Please sit, tenemos mucho material que cubrir hoy!”

Carol’s lungs started to burn, and she sucked in a gasp of air. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath, and it came back to her in the form of hurried inhales. She grabbed her things and staged her exit before anyone could see just how flustered she was.

“¡Hasta luego, Profesora Sturka!” Zosia called after her.

Carol waved faintly over her shoulder as she booked it out the door.

--------------------------

Everything Carol thought she knew had been turned on its head. The entire dynamic between them was far more complicated than she thought. Zosia was a very cultured woman. An experienced woman. When Carol first found out about Stefan, she couldn’t stop comparing herself to him, and wondering what traits she possessed that Zosia even liked. Now, she was comparing herself to a menagerie of fictional foreign women. Models in Milan, flight attendants in France, bartenders in Brazil, the list went on ad nauseum.

What could Carol offer to someone like Zosia who had tasted everything she could have ever wanted? If Zosia’s life were a buffet, full of prime rib and lobster, Carol was nothing but olives on the salad bar. Most concerning of all, they hadn’t even had sex yet. Surely, Zosia would get bored of Carol’s long and arduous mating ritual, and move onto something a lot younger and prettier. It was only a matter of time.

Carol had just about worried herself sick. She couldn’t sit still during her classes, and her leg bounced at her desk. By the end of the day, she was a complete wreck. Carol made the decision that she had to act before it was too late. Before those endorphins faded, and Zosia realized just how unappealing she was. She couldn’t let her slip away. She couldn’t be alone again.

Carol hurried down the empty halls, mentally preparing herself. She paused at the classroom door, double checking that everyone had cleared out for the day. One of Zosia’s students was lollygagging as they moseyed down the hall. The second they turned the corner, she slipped into the classroom and locked the door.

Zosia was all alone, clearing her beautiful penmanship from the blackboard. She glanced over her shoulder, and smiled. “Hi Carol. I’m just about done here.”

Carol marched down the aisle, eyes locked on target. Zosia didn’t even have a chance to set down her eraser before Carol grabbed her hips. She spun her around, taking her by surprise as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed her hard. It was passionate and forceful, shoving Zosia back against the board. Carol didn’t let off, as she deepened the kiss, and pressed their bodies together, barely even leaving room to breathe. Professor Rybak let out a pleased moan. It took a great deal of resolve for Zosia to pull back long enough to speak.

“Carol,” she purred. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Carol grabbed the back of her head and pulled her right back in. Zosia didn’t argue. She eagerly welcomed Carol’s tongue, and moved against her lips with fervent, methodical movements. God, Zosia was a great kisser. No wonder Carol nearly fainted the last time they had kissed like this. She probably got plenty of practice with all those women who fucked her.

Carol scolded herself for thinking about her past lovers again. She pressed against her even closer, leaving no room for even the trace of a former flame. It was just her and Zosia. No one else – nothing else. She could be so good for her. She’d be the best she ever had.

She blew the dust off of her repertoire of moves, remembering a little something that she had been fantasizing about. Carol wrapped around her waist like a python, and staggered in a tight circle, keeping their bodies flush. Their swollen lips were allowed to part so that Carol could get a good grip around Zosia’s thighs. In one great heave, Carol picked her up and sat her up on the desk. The unsuspecting professor let out a squeak of surprise and an amused snort. She must have thought it was cute, but Carol wasn’t going for cute. Carol wanted to be desirable. Fuckable.

So, Carol grabbed that ponytail she had been eyeing and yanked her head back. She latched onto her neck, biting and sucking like a starving animal. Nestled between Zosia’s thighs, she couldn’t help the urge to press up into her. A rush of heat was flooding Carol’s system, but she remained focused and kept her breathing steady. The combination must have been doing the trick, as delicious, ragged pants came tumbling out of Zosia’s mouth. Zosia planted a hand behind her, knocking some papers to the floor, and balled up Carol’s shirt in the other, encouraging her movements.

More. Carol needed to do more. Some nurse from the Netherlands had probably already kissed Zosia like this before. She had to be better. Carol sunk her teeth into her neck and sucked hard. Zosia inhaled sharply, her nails digging into Carol’s back.

“Easy,” she warned, her voice breathy.

Carol lessened the pressure from her mouth, and instead focused it somewhere else. She wrapped an arm around Zosia’s waist, and rocked her hips up into her. A pleased moan escaped Professor Rybak’s throat. Carol repeated the movement over and over again. But the friction from her slacks was quickly becoming a problem, and Carol had to stop herself before she got too far. She kissed her way back to Zosia’s lips, but she wasn’t nearly as eager as she had been when Carol first initiated. Carol was losing her. She needed to hurry.

Carol pulled back from the kiss, lips popping as they separated. She looked down and quickly located the button on Zosia’s pants. Her fingers were trembling as she fumbled with the clasp. Suddenly, Zosia caught her wrist, urging her to stop.

“Carol, what are you doing?” She asked cautiously, still catching her breath.

“I’m giving you what you need,” Carol said, her voice gruff.

Zosia furrowed her brows. Her grip on Carol’s wrist was unwavering. “But is this what you need?”

“…Yes. Yeah, I need this.”

Her hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. Zosia tilted her head, catching her with those soft eyes. “Is this because of our conversation earlier? Carol, I never meant to make you feel insecure – “

“I’m not insecure.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Carol, may I?”

Carol reluctantly stepped back, allowing Zosia to shimmy off of the desk. She straightened her jacket, and pulled her ponytail tight. Any hint of their passion was squandered. She was slipping away right before her eyes.

“I didn’t share my past with you to make you feel bad about yourself,” Zosia admitted. “I just wanted to be open and honest with you. I thought you would appreciate that.”

Carol huffed out of frustration. She decided to just lay it all out. What did she have to lose?

“Let’s go for it. Cards on the table.” She met Zosia’s eyes, holding her head high. “I like you. You – you – you’re…” God she was already messing it up. She forced herself to slow down and speak deliberately.

“There’s a lot of things that I like about you. But this?” She gestured between them. “This is a trainwreck. This is unsustainable. You are starving, and I’m too broken to even give you a bite. How – how…” Carol started to get choked up, but she forced it back down. “Someone in the world can give you exactly what you need. You deserve someone who’s ready, even if that means you leave Albuquerque… Even if that means that you leave me… and then I’m… I’m alone again…”

Try as she might, her composure slipped right out from under her. Carol turned away, concealing the tears that were sure to stain her cheeks and mark her inferior. Despite her breakdown and bleeding heart, Zosia remained steady and calm. She always did. She reached out, collected Carol in her palms, and pulled her in. She placed a tender kiss on her lips. It was warmth and comfort with no other intentions behind it. She lingered there until Carol’s shoulders slacked and her breathing steadied. When she finally pulled back, her eyes said everything Carol needed to know. Nevertheless, she wanted Carol to hear it out loud.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

The doorknob rattled, and keys jingled in the lock. Zosia took a deliberate step backwards, returning her hands to her sides and respecting Carol’s boundaries. She flashed her a sympathetic smile, and Carol lowered her guard.

Manousos startled when he realized the room was occupied. He let out a swear under his breath before dragging his cleaning supplies in. He scolded the two professors for the papers strewn about the floor, and Carol was quick to pick them up.

“We’ll get out of here so you can limpio,” Carol waved, Zosia right on her tail.

He watched them pass, then did a double take. “Zosia Rybak.”

She turned attentively.

“Dile a tu novia que no muerda tan fuerte,” he said, raising a brow.

Zosia adjusted her collar, and turned on her heel, hurrying Carol out the door.

“What? What did he say?” Carol asked.

Her blush followed the trail of hickeys up her neck. “Nothing important.”

-----------------------------------

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

The question came out of left field. She was expecting just a goodbye kiss, not an invitation to bed. Carol was still so humiliated from her futile attempt to seduce Zosia earlier, there was no way she’d be able to work herself up to it again so soon.

“That’s ok,” Carol stammered. “I’m gonna, uh, head home.”

“Carol, it’s not a good idea to leave things where they are,” she said very matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to stay over, but we need to work through this. Come.”

She motioned with her head as she started getting out of the car. Zosia was being incredibly forward. Almost demanding. For some reason, Carol didn’t argue and did as she was told. She followed Zosia with her head bowed all the way inside. Rudy ran up to the door, loudly greeting his owner, and she gave him a quick scratch.

“I’ve got to take care of a couple of things.” She glanced to Carol over her shoulder as she slipped off her blazer. “Wait on my bed. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Carol kicked off her shoes and nodded faintly. She never normally let people boss her around, but Zosia seemed quite serious. She quickly came to realize there were no sexual pretenses to the impromptu slumber party. A stern talking to was surely awaiting her.

Carol entered the softly lit bedroom. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting in her lap. She wracked her brain, trying to think of what Zosia might say. Her eyes darted all around the room, as if the dresser of drawers or photos from her travels may hold the answer. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps Zosia was going to find a sickeningly sweet way to spin the situation, so that she could dump Carol without being the bad guy. Perhaps she was just killing her with kindness.

She could hear her moving out there. The shuffling of feet, kibble tinkling into a bowl, doors opening and closing. It felt like an eternity as she waited for the other shoe to drop. Finally, the bedroom door opened. But instead of answering her anxious thoughts, it left her more confused than before.

Zosia stood in the doorway, her hair down and makeup gone. One hand clutched the doorknob, and the other, a bottle of lotion. The most jarring thing about her though – and the first place Carol’s eyes drifted to – was the fact that her chest was completely bare. Her breasts were on full display, with her pert nipples at attention.

“Would you take off your shirt for me?” Zosia shut the door behind her, her expression enigmatic. “You can leave your bra on if you’re more comfortable that way.”

The fluster of seeing her so unabashedly bare was slow to wash away. Carol tried to work out why she was standing there half-naked and asking her to follow suit. Perhaps she wanted to put Carol at ease about undressing, so she did it first. Perhaps it was just a European thing. Nevertheless, Carol realized she was staring rather than answering.
Her cheeks were burning as she made eye contact with Zosia, who had been patiently waiting. For a second, Zosia sweetened, her expression softening as if to silently reassure Carol that she could stop at any time. It was a small gesture, but meaningful.

Carol nodded, indicating she was game for whatever Zosia had in store. She swallowed hard and followed the command, unbuttoning her collared shirt, fingers fumbling as she did so. She was still curious about the situation, and watched Zosia closely as she moved about the room. She went to her bedside table, and found a lighter. It took a few strikes for it to catch, and she lit up a scented candle.

“All the way off, if you don’t mind,” she said pointedly.

Carol finished the last button, and slipped the thick cotton off her shoulders. She had always considered her figure to be painfully average. And Zosia, with her youth and good genetics, had a lot more firmness in places where Carol drooped. Freshly in her fifties, Carol was still getting acquainted with her aging body. It was hard to look at it in the mirror for too long without comparing her weathered figure to the way she looked in her twenties. But Zosia’s gentle yet firm demand won out against her trepidation, albeit, by an incredibly narrow margin.

Carol peeled her shirt off, and Zosia calmly took it from her, folding it neatly.

“On your stomach,” she directed.

With a grunt of effort, Carol maneuvered to the middle of the bed and laid out flat. It dampened her bashfulness ever so slightly. The bed creaked as Zosia crawled onto the mattress and sat right beside her. The click of a cap and the rubbing of hands preceded a firm stroke up Carol’s spine. Zosia’s fingers, slick with lotion, splayed across her shoulders, digging into the tense muscles there. Carol’s unease washed away in an instant. A groan of relief rumbled in her chest and dissolved into the bedding. Zosia followed the same methodical pattern for about ten more strokes before she spoke up.

“Are you enjoying this?”

Carol turned her head to the side, but her voice still came out muffled and dreamy. “Tremendously.”

“Good,” Zosia purred.

She ran her thumbs up Carol’s neck, paying special attention to the knots there. Any resistance was met with that steady pressure until it finally gave in to her touch. No muscle could resist her for long.

“I know you’ve been stressed,” Zosia said as she worked. “Between finals, losing your job, and life as a whole, it’s no wonder you’ve been so tense. I know I haven’t been making things any easier.”

Carol snorted. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, Carol, but you and I both know you’re a nervous wreck.”

Carol didn’t reply. Zosia was right.

“I don’t want you to worry about measuring up to my past relationships. So much of it was just for fun. There wasn’t much beyond the surface.” Her slender fingers moved to Carol’s shoulders, kneading her like dough. “Everything is different with you. You challenge me in ways that I’ve never been challenged before. It’s… exciting.”

“Glad you find me challenging,” she said cynically. “Most people do.”

Zosia didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. She trailed back up Carol’s neck, fingers scratching against her scalp. Carol let out another groan. She knew just what spots to hit.

“My point is, I’m not just trying to get you in my bed. I’m here for your company, and I just want to make you happy.”

“But why me?” The question had been nagging at her. Carol sat up on her elbows, and Zosia’s hands stilled. “I’m cynical, and stubborn, and, well, a loser by comparison if I’m being honest.”

“Did you ever consider that those might be things I like about you?” She said rigidly. Her hand pressed firmly on Carol’s spine. “Down,” she ordered.

She laid back down, dumbfounded that any of that could have attracted a woman of Zosia’s caliber. It had to have been a joke, despite her serious tone. It just had to be.

“I want to make you feel good,” Zosia assured, rubbing her shoulders once more. “And that means emotionally, not just physically. I don’t want you going out of your comfort zone just to please me. You’re rusty, as you put it, so there’s no sense in rushing into something. Especially if you’re not ready for that step yet.”

Carol let out a heavy sigh. All of the rubbing was loosening up her mouth just as much as her muscles. “I just don’t want you to get bored with me.”

“You’re the least boring person I know.” Zosia traipsed down her spine. She hooked a finger around the clasp of Carol’s bra and hesitated. “May I?”

It was small, but Carol really appreciated Zosia’s incessant need for consent. She nodded, and settled back in. Zosia unclasped her bra, gaining access to the full scape of her back. She slathered some more lotion on, dragging long strokes from her shoulder blades to her hips.

Carol was melting below her. Out of everything they had done together, this was by far the most intimate. And perhaps that was Zosia’s point. Intimacy with no suggestion of sex hanging over their heads. They could learn each other’s bodies without jumping into the deep end. It was exactly what Carol needed to get over her mental barrier. It was baby steps.

Carol was a little touch drunk. Her words came out in a lazy drawl. “You look really good, by the way. Better than I even imagined.”

Zosia chuckled softly. “Oh, so you’ve been imagining me shirtless?”

She buried her face back into the blankets, concealing her smile and muffling her voice. “Never mind, I take back my compliment.”

“That's fine. Your eyes already paid me plenty of compliments.” Her thumbs pressed against Carol’s tailbone, making her jerk. Zosia froze. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“No… maybe…” Carol lifted her face up a little. “It kind of hurt in a good way, if that makes any sense.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Zosia swirled her thumb over the tender spot, light as a feather. “I won’t hurt you without your consent. Do you want me to keep going?”

She gave it a moment of thought, albeit, she did find Zosia’s wording a little odd. “Yeah, just… be gentle.”

Zosia repositioned herself to hit the spot better. She straddled Carol’s thighs, pinning her against the mattress. Zosia’s weight bearing down on her was slowly turning the relaxing massage into something more sensual. Carol couldn’t help the surge of heat that started to pool in her low stomach as Zosia held her down and pressed into that tender area.
She started tepidly, moving both thumbs in gentle circles. She suddenly increased the pressure, and Carol let out a gasp. It was sore, but she didn’t want her to stop.

“You ok, Carol?”

“Y-Yeah… keep going…”

Zosia repeated the motion, and Carol whimpered. Again, she pressed down against the tight muscles, and Carol gritted her teeth. She let out a swear under her breath and gripped the sheets, holding on for dear life as Zosia forced the kink out of her.

“Almost there. Deep breaths.”

Carol tried to breathe deeply, but she inhaled sharply each time Zosia hit that sensitive spot. She writhed against the mattress, doing her best to endure until finally it all gave out. Pain turned to pleasure as the tension released all at once. Carol slacked against the mattress, and let out a long, satisfied groan.

Zosia leaned down and kissed between her shoulders. “You did really good, Carol. Thank you.” She gave Carol’s back a final once over, then dismounted.

She tried to mumble a reply, but nothing coherent came out. Carol hadn’t been handled like that in ages, and she was high from all of the physical touch. Not to mention the way that Zosia praised her in that husky voice left her slightly aroused, questioning things about herself. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that Zosia enjoyed that just as much as she did. The masseuse let out a pleased hum as she laid down on her side, drawing lazy shapes on Carol’s red, overworked skin.

Carol let herself soak in the serenity for a moment longer. Finally, she slowly picked up her head. There was a spot of drool against the lightly colored pillowcase.

“Ok,” Carol mumbled. “Your turn.”

Zosia’s laugh was warm and endearing. “I appreciate the offer, Carol. But this was something special I wanted to do for you.” She brushed some sandy tresses out of the way. “Besides, I’m more of a giver.”

She snuggled up against Carol, wrapping a long, sinewy arm over her. Carol turned so they were chest to chest, enveloped in each other’s embrace. She tucked her head under Zosia’s chin, listening to the ebb and flow of her breaths, and the steady drumming of her heart. The skin-to-skin contact was healing something in her she didn’t realize was broken. It had been ages since she had had another warm body to mold herself against, and her brain was flooding with all sorts of long forgotten endorphins. Maybe Zosia missed having a warm body in her bed too. Maybe that’s what this evening was about. Feeling human with someone again. She held her tighter, refusing to let Zosia slip away from her. Not now, not ever.

“Thank you,” Carol said, lips brushing against her collar bone. “I really needed this.”

“I know,” Zosia hummed. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Carol checked her appearance in the rearview mirror once more. She had fought against her innate urge to bury her crows feet and worry lines beneath a layer of makeup. Zosia preferred her natural look. Zosia had also complimented her perfume a month or so ago, and Carol made sure she was wearing that exact one. It was noticeable, but not overpowering. As for her attire, she sported the same blue vest Zosia had admired, a thin cream button up below it, and a matching pair of slacks. It wasn’t much different from what she wore to work, but a first date wasn’t exactly the time to mix things up.

She had to pinch herself. Her first date with Zosia. When Helen passed, Carol was certain she would never even entertain the idea of dating again. Yet, here she was, nervously approaching a woman’s door with a bouquet of flowers in her sweaty palms. Carol held up her fist, poised to knock, but the door opened before she got the chance.

Zosia beamed as she threw the door open. She had to have been watching her walk up. “Hi Carol!”

Zosia was positively glowing in her golden gown. Gossamer threads of the finest silk shimmered like spun gold, as if the sun itself were showering Zosia’s shoulders with resplendent kisses. Carol was awestruck.

“Wow…” she blinked a few times. “You, um – you look very – uh… splendiferous.”

Zosia’s brows knitted in confusion. The compliment didn’t land.

Shit.

“Huh,” she hummed. “I don’t think I know that one in English…”

“Beautiful,” Carol quickly rectified, mentally kicking herself. Where the hell did she even get that word from? “It means you look beautiful, radiant, opulent…”

“Splendiferous,” Zosia deduced with a grin. “Thank you, I get it now. You look very splendiferous yourself.”

Carol swallowed hard and forced an awkward smile. Somehow, she had gone from intimate, shirtless cuddling to being unable to even speak to Zosia in full sentences. How pathetic. In her defense, they had both been incredibly busy with the end of the semester, and there hadn’t been time for anything more than hello and goodbye. But now, with the stress of finals over and a few weeks of winter break ahead, they had nothing but time.

“These are for you.” Carol held out her bouquet of roses. “I wanted to get you red ones, but they were sold out. The flower gal said yellow would work fine for a date, even though yellow means friendship. I mean, I’m pretty sure this whole thing between us is a bit more than friendship… right?”

Zosia happily accepted them. “Thank you, Carol. They’re lovely.” She pressed her nose into the petals and took a nice long inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let out a pleased hum. She sure took her time easing Carol’s anxiety around their relationship. It started to feel intentional. “And yes. I would say we’re more than friends.” She smirked.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. Good to know.” She glanced around, finding the hall vacant, then held out her arm for Zosia to take. “Ready to go?”

Zosia grinned. She exchanged her flowers for her jacket hanging over the back of a chair, then happily took Carol’s arm. “More than ready.”

The Rooftop Lounge was an easy choice for dinner. It was one of the finer places in Albuquerque, albeit a little pricey. Carol didn’t mind, though. She would have spent any amount just to see the pleasant surprise on Zosia’s face as they were seated right at the edge of the rooftop. She looked out over the ledge, marveling at the way the setting sun shimmered off the cityscape.

“Thanks for taking me here, Carol. The view is wonderful.”

Carol smiled. “Just wait until you have the food. The head chef here is a genius. We came here back in May, and they had this roasted poblano lamb shank. It was to die for. Helen asked the chef for the recipe so she could make it at home…”

Zosia was listening attentively, but Carol’s voice trailed off. One thing Carol had quickly come to learn about grief was that it was inconvenient. Even on top of the world with Zosia beaming like a chiseled statue of gold, that ugly ache found its way back to the surface. Carol looked out over the skyline, with no interest in letting it fester.

“But yeah. The view’s nice.”

Carol’s hands were resting on the table, and ever so tenderly, the brush of Zosia’s fingers graced her. Zosia moved her head to catch Carol’s eyes. The mention of Helen didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“So, did you make it at home?” She encouraged, stroking the back of her hand.

Carol sighed, then recalled the hilarious fiasco. “Well, we tried, but someone roasted the poblano a little too well and started a small fire.”

Zosia stifled a laugh. “And would that ‘someone’ be you by any chance?”

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” she jeered with a straight face. “There were multiple casualties. A dish rag, an oven mitt…”

Zosia nodded, playing along. “I see. Were there any witnesses?”

Carol bit back a smile. “The salt shaker saw it all go down. He was a suspect until the pepper shaker gave him an alibi.”

“Maybe they were working together?”

What a relief it was to be able to just riff with her so casually. The unwelcomed grief hadn’t thrown Zosia off one bit. She ran with it, encouraging Carol to do the same. It was oddly comforting and unexpectedly normal.

But before Carol could branch off of Zosia’s theory, their waiter showed up. Carol pulled her hand back in a knee-jerk reaction, yanking it away from Zosia’s tender touch. She knew on an intellectual level that this random waiter wouldn’t care about her sexuality, but the shame ingrained in her long ago won out against all reason.

The waiter handed each of them a menu. “Good evening, ladies. Can I get you started off with something to drink? We have an extensive cocktail menu, as well as wine and beer on tap…”

“God, I’d kill for a glass of wine right now,” Carol mumbled under her breath. “Uh, I’ll just have water, thanks.”

The waiter nodded and turned to Zosia.

“I’ll have the same, thank you.”

“You can get a drink,” Carol scoffed, mildly offended by her complacency. She turned to the waiter and ordered for her. “Get her some Pinot Grigio. Leave the bottle at the table.”

He nodded, and took off. Zosia raised a brow at Carol’s assertiveness, but didn’t say a word. She simply filed it away, flipped open her menu, and scanned it absently.

“Did you hear how Koumba’s spending his holiday?” Carol asked, opening her menu.

“No, I didn’t.”

“He’s going to Vegas. Apparently Shannon is an elite member at the Westgate, so they get the penthouse suite.” Carol scoffed loudly, then mumbled. “He’ll probably run off with a showgirl.”

Zosia peered over her menu. “You know, for how much you deny being friends with Koumba, you sure do talk to him a lot. More than I do.”

Carol scowled. “He’s the one that’s always talking to me – not the other way around – so let’s get that straight. Second of all, I thought you wanted me to be nicer to him.”

“I did, I’m just proud of you for giving him a chance.” Zosia sat her menu down and leaned on her elbows. “Doesn’t it feel good to give him a chance?”

Carol mirrored her movements. “No, not really. Feels like he just annoys me more now.”

Zosia snorted, glancing down at the tablecloth. “You say that, but I think you secretly like it. He keeps things interesting.”

“I don’t. And interesting isn’t always a good thing.”

Zosia rested her chin against her palm, her gaze softening. “I think you’re just getting used to having people around. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” She shrugged.

That woman could read Carol like a book. It would have been far more annoying if it came from a place of superiority, but Zosia was incredibly genuine in every aspect of life. It was Zosia’s honesty that had made Carol lower her defenses, and melt in her arms. She was an emotional safety net, and Carol was endlessly grateful for whatever benevolent force brought her into her life.

----------------------------------------

“I think it’s a duck,” Carol said, cocking her head.

Zosia cocked her head as well. “A swan, perhaps?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s a duck.”

Professor Rybak approached the ambiguous light sculpture, reading the placard out loud. “’Swan on the water’… strange title for a duck sculpture,” she jeered.

Carol bumped up against her, playfully jostling Zosia out of the way. She adjusted her glasses, and leaned in close, reading it for herself.

“You don’t believe me?” Zosia laughed.

“I was just double checking…”

Zosia scoffed, feigning offense. She nabbed Carol by the hand, and pulled her away, leading her down the path. Dazzling lights of amber and white twinkled overhead, and lustrous sculptures of light lined the walkway. Foot traffic filtered past the couple, indifferent to the joining of their hands. Carol allowed Zosia to lead her along, but she kept her head on a swivel. Strangers was one thing – a student or colleague was another.

They came upon another sculpture of a holiday themed boat. The hull was cherry red, the sails candy striped, and a sea of turquoise glimmered beneath it. Zosia came to a slow stop, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Reminds me of home,” she said fondly.

Carol hummed. “I thought Poland was landlocked?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “No, not at all. I would watch the ships leaving Gdańsk. Brand new. First voyage. I was maybe… ten years old?” She gazed off as she recalled the dear memories. “And I was fascinated by these giant ships. Who built them? What for? Where were they going?” Her voice trailed off.

Carol was enraptured by Zosia recounting her past. Especially with how her eyes twinkled in the shimmering light. “Did you ever find out?”

“No.” She shrugged. “But I still loved sitting on the pier. I would dream about stowing away on one of those big ships and sailing far across the sea…”

The fantasy sounded all too familiar. Carol had the exact same escapist thoughts on long nights loaded with longing. There was something better at the end of the train tracks. Perhaps Zosia was looking for something better across the sea. Perhaps that was what drove her all the way to Albuquerque.

Zosia came back to reality, slightly flustered. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear my childhood stories.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. I’d love to know more about you.” Carol thought for a beat. There was a lot she didn’t know about Zosia, and she was starting to feel guilty about it. “How about this, what’s your favorite food?”

Zosia was pleasantly surprised. She gave it plenty of thought as they stepped to the side of the sculpture, allowing others to get a better view.

“Mango ice cream,” she finally concluded. “I love mango ice cream. This old man in my neighborhood would sell ice cream out of a little cart. Sometimes, he would hand out ice cream bars to us when he had too many to sell. He knew we didn’t have two coins to rub together.” She chuckled, gazing off. “It was just after the country had opened up, and suddenly he had new flavors. Mint, coffee, peach… but mango… that was my favorite.”

The fond memory brought plenty of emotions to the surface. Zosia never spoke about her childhood, and growing up in the wake of communist Poland had to have had a strong affect on her. Carol couldn’t imagine the things she had seen or the struggles she had faced. In fact, Zosia was rather reserved about her own hardships.

Carol took Zosia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for sharing that.”

Zosia squeezed right back. They moseyed along, under a waterfall of fairy lights. The sculptures were quite impressive, but Carol had stopped paying attention to them. There was something far more eye-catching on her arm. That fluttering in Carol’s chest hadn’t stopped all night, and hearing her share something personal about herself only made it ache in the best way. Carol had been falling for her for quite some time, but it seemed like soon she was going to land.

“Oh my God – Carol Sturka?”

She ripped her hand from Zosia’s grip at lightning speed. Behind them, an unfamiliar face was teeming with excitement. A portly woman in a purple shawl and wire frame glasses. Carol had her suspicions, and they were quickly confirmed.

The fan squealed with excitement. “It is you! Oh my God, I love the Wycaro series!”

She put her PR training to use and put on a smile, although she would have preferred to keep walking. “Thank you. Always a pleasure to meet a fan.”

“Can I get a picture with you?”

She glanced to Zosia, who was waiting patiently with her hands folded. She waved Carol on, encouraging the interaction. The superfan had no problem invading Carol’s bubble as she threw an arm around her, then extended her phone out to Zosia, waving it frantically. It took Zosia a beat to realize what was being asked of her. Carol mouthed an apology, but Zosia dismissed it with a gentle shake of the head. She took the fan’s phone and snapped a quick picture.

“There you are,” Zosia chirped, handing it back.

She took her phone, paying Zosia no mind. She was too busy gushing at her favorite author. “I can’t wait for the newest Wycaro novel! I know it’s not till March, but are there any teasers you can give? Anything?”

Carol hadn’t even started the damn thing, nor did she plan to.

“You’re in for a surprise.” Carol winked.

The fan rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Oh my God, I can’t wait! Everyone in the fandom was saying it’d be delayed because your manager passed away, but I’m so glad they were wrong! I don’t think anyone can wait for Raban any longer!”

The smile fell right off Carol’s face and shattered on the ground. The woman kept rambling, but Carol couldn’t be bothered to listen to another moment of it. She became withdrawn, not even offering the slightest recognition. Zosia picked up on the shift immediately, and took control of the situation.

“Thank you, but Carol is here to relax. So, if you don’t mind…”

The fan apologized, and went on her way. As she drifted into the crowd, she called someone on the phone to gush about the encounter. Zosia timidly brushed Carol’s arm, searching her face.

“You ok, Carol?”

She took a deep breath, holding her head higher. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Zosia nodded, then glanced around. She gently led Carol to a bench, careful not to take her by the hand. She encouraged her to sit, and she did the same. Zosia didn’t force her to explain herself. Instead, she let the silence breathe as they sat back and watched people pass by. A few minutes went on like that until Carol finally came back to the present.

“Sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Carol shook her head. “No, but there is. It’s the second time Helen’s come up tonight, and bringing up old flames is like at the top of the list of ‘what not to do on a first date’.”

Zosia’s hand moved to her knee, but hovered in a moment of hesitation. She instead rested it on the weathered wood. “Carol, I don’t want you to be afraid to talk about Helen with me. She was such a huge part of your life, it would be impossible just to act like she never existed. You don’t want that, and I don’t want that. Besides, when you talk about her, the only thing I feel is gratitude. I’m grateful you had Helen to take care of you, and love you so deeply. If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here with you today.”

A tear was working its way out, and Carol quickly wiped away its progress. Words couldn’t capture all the things she wanted to say, so instead, she took Zosia’s cautious hand and pulled it into her lap. She surely was cutting off circulation with how tight she was squeezing. Carol was grateful she had kept her tears at bay, but her voice was still shaky when she finally spoke.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Zosia blinked a few times. “Pardon?”

“You’re perfect. Everything about you. You’re confident, and empathetic, and god damn drop-dead gorgeous,” she huffed. “Something has to be wrong with you. Just has to be.”

Zosia’s concern melted into a humored smile. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

They could both laugh about it. The super fan was long gone, and the chill of the desert night was settling in. Carol rubbed her thumb over Zosia’s hand, reminding herself she was real.

“The same goes for Stefan,” Carol offered cautiously. “If you ever want to talk about him, I’m here to listen.”

Zosia shrugged dismissively. “I appreciate that, but what Stefan and I had can’t compare to you two.”

Carol accepted the answer. Truthfully, she didn’t want to know anything about Stefan. The more enigmatic he was, the easier it was to pretend he never happened. But of course, she’d never tell Zosia that. If she wanted to share, Carol would listen. She couldn’t promise she’d like the guy, but she would listen.

“Let’s keep going,” Carol said, rising to her feet with a groan. “I want to see that fountain they were advertising.”

They meandered on down the trail, admiring amalgamations of wire and string lights. Reindeer, candy canes, and holly all lined the path. They came up on the half-way point, and approached a rocky tunnel. The glow of rapidly flashing lights emanated from the cave’s opening. Zosia stopped in her tracks, a few yards from the entrance. She turned around and averted her eyes from the ambient flashing.

“What’s wrong?” Carol asked.

“Sorry,” Zosia groaned. “I took my medicine today, but I just don’t want to risk it ruining our night.”

It took Carol far too long to realize that Zosia was referring to her epilepsy. She mentally scolded herself for skimming over the tickets and completely missing any warnings about flashing lights. She had to do better.

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should have checked.” Carol looked around for some kind of detour, but the tunnel was a bottleneck of sorts. The only way forward was through. “We can just turn around and head back the way we came.”

“But we haven’t reached the fountain. I know you were excited about it…”

“Who cares about some dumb fountain?” She scoffed.

“You care, so I care too.” Zosia peeked up, looking like a kicked puppy.

Carol let out a heavy sigh. The obvious solution was to just turn around, but then Zosia would beat herself up about it all night. Why she couldn’t just be rational instead of painfully empathetic was beyond Carol. A compromise seemed impossible until she had a stroke of genius.

“Do you trust me?” Carol asked.

“Of course.”

“Cover your eyes.”

Zosia did as instructed.

“Can you see anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Perfect.”

Carol took Zosia by the hips, and spun her around. She carefully walked backwards, leading her to the mouth of the cave.

“All good?” Carol asked, pausing at the threshold.

“All good.”

She led Zosia inside, keeping a firm grip on her waist. Slowly, she walked backwards, guiding Zosia along, and ignoring anyone who stared. Carol looked all around at the colorful display, and put her love of purple prose to work.

“There’s a wave of amaranthine light pulsating along the walls, like the whole cave is breathing. There’s spinning pinwheels all around, throwing cerulean and saffron ripples all across our bodies. You can feel the lights heating up your skin, and the gusts cooling it back down. Overhead, dewy gumdrops hang down, their sugar coating shimmering like crystals. Duck.”

There was a grin plastered across Zosia’s face. “Are you sure it isn’t a swan?”

Carol let out a cackle, urging her to stoop. “No, I mean duck!”

She helped Zosia crouch under a chandelier of peppermint, both of them giggling like idiots. Carol allowed her to rise on the other side, then continued their tour.

“Underfoot, squares alternate in a rainbow of colors, like… like that dancing game.”

“Dance Dance Revolution?”

Carol snorted. Of course Zosia would know that. “Yeah, that’s the one. There’s bursts of cherry red and lime green, like fireworks lighting up the night sky. And all of it culminates to one final passage of warmth and light, bringing you back to reality until…” Carol gently peeled Zosia’s hands off her eyes. “It’s all over.”

As Zosia’s eyes adjusted to the ambient light on the other side of the tunnel, her pupils didn’t constrict. They stayed locked, frozen in time and place. Carol knew exactly what she was feeling. She herself had been feeling it all night. Zosia’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips. If they were anywhere else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to pull Carol in and devour her. But here, alone in a sea of strangers, Zosia resisted the urge. Which was for the best, because it was taking every last thread of Carol’s resolve not to kiss her.

“How was that?” Carol whispered, her gaze just as fixed and unyielding.

“Splendiferous.”

Whatever shame Carol harbored was set at ease. She had no problem holding Zosia’s hand all the way to the fountain at the end of the path. By the time they reached it, the New Mexico native was shivering.

“This was certainly worth it,” Zosia admired.

Carol nodded, taking in all of the lights dancing off the water. “Sure was.”

Her chattering teeth didn’t go unnoticed. Zosia peeled off her jacket without ceremony, and draped it over Carol’s shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?” Carol asked, hesitant to accept the offering.

Zosia shook her head. “No, I feel fine. The cold doesn’t bother me.” She gave her a sly side-eye. “Fun fact, it gets very cold in Poland. You know, on the coast?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I suck at geography,” she grumbled.

Carol slipped her arms into the sleeves. Something about the leather was incredibly familiar, but it wasn’t until she was enveloped in it that she realized why. It was the same jacket Zosia had draped across her. The same day that she got drunk and passed out at work. The same day that Carol cut her.

“I remember this jacket,” Carol said, running her finger along the sherpa lining. “It’s from when you saved my life.”

Zosia chuckled at the notion. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“No. It isn’t.”

The serious tone stuck out like a sore thumb. Zosia searched her face for any sort of humor, but there was none to be had. Carol was at her absolute lowest on that day. If Zosia hadn’t given her a second chance, there was no doubt in Carol’s mind that she would have gone straight into a nosedive with no hope of pulling up. She would have drowned by Christmas.

Zosia inched closer, wrapping an arm around Carol’s waist. “Well then, I’m glad I saved you.”

Carol leaned her head on Zosia’s shoulder, and they watched the fountain for a little while longer. The crowd had dwindled to almost nothing, and some of the features were powering down as the event came to a close. The entire evening had lifted a weight off of Carol’s shoulders, as well as silenced her anxious mind. Her walls were nothing but rubble.

“Can I stay over tonight?” Carol asked innocently.

“Of course.”

“Perfect.”

------------------------------------------

Zosia was more than happy to get out of her unforgiving kitten heels. She kicked them off and stretched her arms overhead with a groan. Carol followed right behind, kicking off her loafers, and twisting the lock. Rudy trotted up, brushing against Zosia’s shins. She spared him a scratch.

“I don’t know about you,” Zosia said over her shoulder, “but I need to get out of these clothes.”

She padded down the hall and into her room. Carol trailed behind, then lingered in the doorway. A soft white lamp threw loose shadows across the room, and the scent of a long extinguished candle still clung to the linens. The serenity of Zosia’s apartment was starting to feel more like home than her house in the suburbs. This woman had brought her so much peace, and Carol couldn’t thank her enough.

She shrugged off Zosia’s jacket, laying it across a plush chair in the corner of the room. She ambled over to her date, still shining like a gold-plated goddess. Zosia was looking through her closet, content with a quiet night in.

“You can borrow my pajamas again. And, if you’re not too tired, we could finish that movie we were watching. I promise I won’t fall asleep this time,” she chuckled softly.

Truthfully, a quiet night in was the last thing on Carol’s mind. Grief had sunk its ugly claws into her for far too long. All this time, she had been denying herself one of her most basic needs. Whether it was from her own anxieties, insecurities, or that ghost hanging over her head. But now, it was all starting to numb; not from alcohol, but from that perfect woman who had entered her life. Sweet, patient Zosia with her witty remarks and healing touch. Carol could describe most things, with her repertoire of adjectives and love for language, but she found it impossible to put her appreciation for Zosia into words. Truly, there were no words that could measure up to the passion she inspired inside of her.

Carol came to a stop, right behind her. In one fluid movement, she brushed Zosia’s hair to the side, and reached for the zipper on the back of her dress.

“I really appreciate you,” Carol said.

“I really appreciate you too,” Zosia echoed, a smile in her voice.

Slowly and steadily, Carol pulled the zipper down her back, the muffled whir dragging out the tension to something more hedonistic. She peppered a few light kisses on the newly exposed skin, raising goosebumps on the nape of her neck. Carol leaned up to Zosia’s ear as the zipper reached the end of its track.

“I want to show you how much I appreciate you.”

Chapter Text

Carol always believed she performed better when she was drunk. Hot, wet kisses and clashing teeth. Clothes only hanging off halfway because she was far too eager to finish. Overexertion due to overcompensation for the way the alcohol numbed her senses. No regard for how sore and hungover she’d feel in the morning, with only a foggy memory of the previous night’s ecstasy. Drunk sex left her body drained, but her soul was never fulfilled.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, she wanted to remember everything.

There wasn’t a drop of liquid courage in Carol’s body as she coaxed Zosia out of her dress. The sheath of silk fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles. She tilted her head, exposing her neck to Carol, who eagerly peppered kisses up and down her tepid skin. An appreciative hum rumbled at the back of Zosia’s throat, as Carol’s tongue ventured out, tasting her. Her hands trailed down Zosia’s bare figure, exploring the land she wished to ravage. Zosia twitched as Carol brushed her sides, and she inhaled deeply as she came around to cup her ass. Even there, goosebumps echoed Carol’s touch, prickling beneath her sheer undergarment.

Zosia was calm and collected in nearly every aspect of life. Even when they flirted or kissed each other breathless, she remained unflappable. But as much as Zosia could control her emotions, she couldn’t control the way her body responded so viscerally to Carol’s touch. After all, she had been craving this just as bad.

Carol hooked a finger around the clasp of Zosia’s bra and hesitated, voice hot against her ear.

“May I?”

The teasing nature of the role reversal wasn’t lost on her. Zosia snickered under her breath, and turned her head ever so slightly, nuzzling into her. “Please do.”

With the flick of the wrist, the clasp was undone, and Carol gently eased the straps off her shoulders. The lacy bra joined the dress in a heap, leaving her almost entirely bare, waiting for Carol’s touch. That familiar desire was starting to overpower her restraint, and Carol finally turned Zosia around to face her. Those dark eyes of hers landed straight on Carol’s lips, inviting her to give in to desire. To make her gratitude known. But Zosia didn’t make the first move. This was Carol’s dance; she merely followed her lead. At least for now, while everything was still delicate.

Carol leaned up on her tip-toes, meeting Zosia exactly where she was. She pressed against her, hungry and anxious to taste more than just her tongue. Carol tried her best not to rush things. But when Zosia kissed her back like something she desperately craved, it was hard not to jump in the deep end. Carol clutched her waist, pulling their bodies flush, as Zosia draped her arms over her shoulders. Zosia’s tongue swirled in Carol’s mouth, drinking her in and eliciting a moan that rumbled her to the core.

There was no embarrassment behind the sounds that Zosia drew out of her. Because they were earnest and well deserved. Carol clutched her close, nails digging into the taunt muscles stretched across her back. She couldn’t get close enough. She would have kissed her for hours if it weren’t for the heat radiating between Zosia’s thighs, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Carol staggered backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“On the bed,” Carol said breathlessly, finally allowing their lips to part. “I want to give you what you deserve.”

There was something devilish in the way she grinned. Nevertheless, Zosia did as instructed, and laid out on full display. Carol swallowed thickly as she took in the sight. She was beautiful, radiant, opulent, every fucking word in the dictionary. That little smirk on Zosia’s plump lips, the curve of her breasts, and the wide expanse of skin begging to be kissed were all just about enough to make Carol believe in a higher power. An act of God. That was the only explanation for how a loser like her could pull a goddess like Zosia.

The deity sat back on her elbows, and beckoned her closer with the crook of her finger. “Come. I won’t bite.”

The sultry comment sent a wave of heat through Carol’s body. She was up on the bed in an instant, straddling Zosia’s lap. She happily welcomed Carol aboard, hands gravitating to her thighs, massaging her as she settled in. Carol cupped Zosia’s face and leaned down, planting a smooch.

“I don’t mind a little biting,” Carol smirked.

Once again, something dark flickered behind Zosia’s eyes. Something barely contained. Perhaps, whatever it was, Carol could kiss it out of her. She wanted to know everything in Zosia’s mind. Every thought, every desire, every fantasy. Carol would do anything in her power to bring it to fruition. To bring Zosia every ounce of satisfaction she could muster. To please her.

Carol placed a hand on either side of Zosia’s head, mindful of the long chestnut tresses sprawled all about. She leaned down, trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth, along her jaw, and down the length of her neck. That love bite Carol had left on her last week had faded. Zosia had been very meticulous about covering it with makeup, and even under the harsh lights at work, she had somehow made it invisible. But now, with just the two of them, the suggestion of purple was visible. Carol had noticed it on their date, and was confused at first as to why she didn’t conceal it. But now, with their bodies pressed together, heavy with lust, it all made sense.

She wanted Carol to see it. To see how she had marked her. And God, did it make Carol want to leave more.

She indulged, latching onto that same exact spot she had already sullied. Zosia inhaled sharply, but made no request for her to stop. In fact, she pulled her in closer. Carol licked and bit and sucked up and down the column of her neck. The needy breaths falling out of Zosia’s parted lips proved to be an aphrodisiac, and Carol found her hips rocking on their own accord. She had to force herself to stop the lustful movements. All in due time.

Carol moved down and down, kissing along Zosia’s collarbone, then along the curve of her breast. She hesitated right at the precipice, a quick glance to Zosia to ensure she was enjoying herself so far. And enjoying she was. Those big doe eyes were nearly black, as she watch Carol’s movements. She didn’t allow her to hesitate for long.

“Go on,” Zosia ran her fingers through Carol’s hair. “Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

It was a good thing Carol wasn’t the one being serviced, because Zosia’s words were doing unspeakable things to her, and she definitely wouldn’t last very long. She swirled her tongue around her hard nipple, then sucked it up into her pretty mouth. Zosia let out a long, low moan as Carol worked, petting her hair in a way that gave Carol herself goosebumps. Satisfied with the left side, Carol kissed across her breasts to the right, repeating all the same languid movements. Every curve and bend of her bare torso was tantalizingly attended to.

It was sexy and stimulating, but Carol was starting to think about what was waiting for her down below. It all circled back to that drunken night with Zosia’s pants around her ankles, and her whining out Carol’s name. Finally, she could taste her. Make her tremble beneath her. Show her just how much she means to her.

Carol kissed down Zosia’s stomach, pacing herself so she wouldn’t faint like she nearly did last time. She wasn’t a stranger to eating pussy. In fact, it was one of Carol’s favorites. The way she could bring someone over the edge with just her mouth. It also took a lot of the pressure out of topping. She could just bury herself between a woman’s thighs, and not have to worry about where to look, what to say, or what to do with her hands.

She kissed past Zosia’s navel, until her chin hit the edge of that silky, tantalizing fabric. Carol made sure to take a few deep breaths and ground herself as she settled in. With Zosia’s thighs on her shoulders and slender fingers tangled in her hair, she leaned in, and mouthed her through the thin, damp fabric.

Zosia inhaled sharply, then purred. “There you go…”

The encouragement made her move with more vigor. It had been a long time since Carol had put her mouth to work like this. For a long time, it was just quickies with Helen. A little fingering under the covers before rolling over and calling it a night. They just didn’t have the time or energy to do much else. Strap-ons only ever came out for someone’s birthday, and even that wasn’t guaranteed. So, for Carol’s first time back in the ring, oral was an exciting place start. She just hoped she wasn’t too rusty.

The sheer fabric was quickly becoming saturated the more Carol licked and kissed. Whether it was from Zosia melting beneath her tongue, or Carol drooling over her meal, it was uncertain. All Carol knew was her own panties had to have been just as wet. Zosia’s soft moans puffed out between breaths, as she urged Carol closer. It was taking everything in Carol’s power not to hump the mattress below her. She herself felt pressure building up to an uncomfortable throb that desperately needed attended to. But not yet. First, Zosia. She deserved it far more.

Zosia’s underwear, as enticing as it had been, was starting to become a nuisance. Carol brought a hand around and hooked it with her finger, pulling the sodden fabric out of the way. She took a moment to drink in the sight of her neatly trimmed hair. She was practically dripping.

“Like what you see, Carol?” Her name dripped off her tongue like honey. She had been watching closely.

“I love it,” she said, voice low and needy.

Finally, she gave in to her desire. Carol retained eye contact as she leaned down, giving one, firm lick up the length of her cunt. Zosia’s eyes fluttered shut, and her head collapsed back into the pillows. That was a good sign. Carol still had it.

She repeated the long licks, adding extra pressure to her swollen clit. That sweet tang melted on her tongue. It was unique, yet oh so familiar. God, how had she gone so long without tasting it? An involuntary moan leaked out of her mouthful of pussy. Carol didn’t even have a chance to second guess her impulsive reaction before Zosia’s hand tightened in her tresses, urging her closer.

“Good, let me hear you,” she drawled, accent thicker than usual. “Let me hear how much you love it.”

Every word falling out of Zosia’s mouth was like gasoline to a fire. Carol moaned much louder as she sucked her clit up into her mouth, massaging the bud with her tongue. She made sure that Zosia could hear just how much she was enjoying it. Carol let her lips smack against her heated flesh so she could also hear just how wet she was.

Carol kept her pace, took strategic breaths, and did her best not to become distracted by the ache between her own legs. Zosia let out a chorus of encouraging noises, throwing in an occasional praise ladened phrase. It all started to come together, as Zosia’s pitch increased, and her hand tightened against Carol’s head.

“Right there – “ she blurted out, breath hitching. “Kurwa mać…”

Zosia’s other hand shot out, clawing into Carol’s scalp and pulling her as close as possible. With her mouth and nose flush, she couldn’t move her tongue an inch, let alone breathe. But she didn’t have to move, as Zosia rocked her hips against her face. It only took a few seconds for all of the tension in her body to snap. A yelp escaped Zosia’s tight lips as she rode her face right over the edge.

“Carol…” she whined, eyes and thighs squeezed tight. “Oh, Carol – !”

She held on for dear life as Zosia rode out her high. Carol herself could have probably joined her if she took just ten seconds to touch herself. But watching Zosia come undone was intoxicating enough. The ecstasy marring that beautiful face of hers was like crack. Oh how she wished she could take a picture of it. Savor it forever.

Carol’s admiration was brought to an abrupt halt as she quickly realized she couldn’t breathe. She tried pushing back to get even just a smidgeon of air, but Zosia’s thighs and claws locked her in place like a spring trap. Her lungs started to burn, then she started to feel faint. Carol rapidly tapped Zosia’s thigh, praying she was cognizant enough to understand she was suffocating her.

At last, Zosia’s grip loosened, and Carol managed to pull back, gasping in desperate gulps of air. For a moment, she just laid there, her chest heaving, and the taste still lingering on her lips. Zosia slumped into the downy pillows, her eyes glazed and lips parted in a satisfied, breathless smile.

The air in the room was thick and warm, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing. Carol pushed herself up, brushed damp hair from her eyes, and wiped away the wetness that dribbled off her chin. Zosia’s blissful expression brought a smile to her face. She was still breathless and beaming as Zosia reached for her, drawing her closer into the nest of tangled sheets. She laid against her bare, sweaty chest, and lost herself in Zosia’s glassy eyes.

It took a handful of slow blinks and deep breaths before Zosia came back into her body. She locked eyes with Carol, laying on her breasts.

“Rusty my ass.”

They both cracked up, Zosia still in her post-orgasm high, and Carol in her a-beautiful-woman-just-came-on-my-face high. Needless to say, Zosia’s admiration had properly stroked Carol’s ego. She sat up a little more and rested her chin in her hand, looking over that blissful expression plastered to Zosia’s face.

“So… how would you grade my performance, Professor Rybak?”

Zosia snorted at the ridiculous question. She thought for a moment, suppressing a grin. “Well, you did a good job with the mechanics, although I did notice you were a little jittery at the start. Perhaps some performance anxiety?”

Carol shrugged bashfully.

“Well, you passed with flying colors, Ms. Sturka.” She reached out for Carol’s hand laying loosely across her torso. She brought it to her lips, and kissed her knuckles tenderly. “And you get extra credit for being so vocal for me.”

Just when Carol thought she couldn’t get any hornier, Zosia only made things worse. She was fully dressed and untouched, yet one strong breeze away from cumming in her pants. Of course, Zosia wasn’t aware of just how bad she needed it. How bad her whole body ached for some kind of release.

Zosia wiggled out from beneath her, properly sitting up against the headboard. The aftershocks of her orgasm had subsided, and now those dark eyes were locked onto Carol. But she didn’t try anything without first gaining consent – a habit as it would seem.

“Thank you, Carol. I really needed that.” Zosia played with Carol’s hair, leaning in closer. “I would love to return the favor. That is, if you’re open to it.”

Carol was practically drunk off of lust. “You can do anything to me.”

Zosia raised a brow, giving it a moment of thought. She came to some kind of conclusion, then shook her head, dismissing it entirely. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that just yet. How about we start with something I know you like.” She grabbed Carol by the hips, and encourage her to straddle her thigh. Zosia pulled her down until there was a steady pressure in the crotch of Carol’s pants. Zosia’s voice was low and sure.

“Show me exactly how you hump your desk.”

She hated the way her body responded to the command. There was no way to conceal the flush beneath Carol’s skin, and the ache between her legs only throbbed more. She just knew that lapse of restraint in her office would be coming back to haunt her. Zosia wasn’t one to forget things so easily.

As humiliated as she was, she couldn’t deny that even just the pressure from Zosia’s thigh was driving her crazy. Not to mention the way she watched her, eager and expectant. Maybe there was even some small part of her that liked the way Zosia belittled her, but it all was too much for her to unpack in the moment. So, Carol let go of her inhibitions and rocked her hips forward.

A muffled moan squeezed out past her tight lips, and her whole body trembled. She quickly grabbed Zosia’s shoulders for support as she repeated the motion, her fluid hips grinding down. This wouldn’t take long.

Zosia’s hand found Carol’s heated cheek. She traced across, her thumb pressing on her chin and urging her to unclench her jaw.

“Open,” Zosia ordered smoothly. “Don’t hide those noises from me.”

She let her jaw hang open, a few grunts of effort coming out.

“F-Fuck…” Carol rasped.

She picked up the pace, coil drawing tight and threatening to snap. She was right at the precipice, but in the blink of an eye, her hips were stilled by Zosia’s grip. Her fingers dug in tight, immobilizing her. Carol’s eyes flew open. It scared away her orgasm in a flash, and she searched Zosia’s face.

“W-What? What’s wrong?” Carol puffed, chest heaving and legs trembling.

She eyed her suspiciously. “Were you about to cum?”

Carol sucked on her bottom lip. She knew that finishing so quickly was pathetic, but she hadn’t expected to be called out directly. “I mean… yeah, kind of…”

Zosia’s expression softened to something amused and pitiful. “Oh Carol…”

She leaned forward, planting a tender kiss on Carol’s lips, then urged her to climb off her lap. Carol reluctantly moved. As badly as she wanted to just finish herself off, Zosia clearly had a plan. They traded places, and Carol settled into the plush linens. Zosia indulged her with a deep, slow kiss, hand trailing up and down Carol’s thigh.

The tension eased as she came back down from the edge. The kisses were nice, albeit a little frustrating. But Carol trusted that Zosia wasn’t heartless enough to blue-ball her. Sure enough, after a few minutes of heated kisses, Zosia’s roaming hand found its way to the clasp of Carol’s pants. Finally, Carol could get the relief she so desperately craved.

Zosia easily undid the button one handed, then wriggled her way beneath the tight denim. She glided over Carol’s underwear, cupping her in her warm palm. Zosia froze once she realized she had completely soaked through her panties. Her lips curled against Carol’s cheek, and she let out a suggestive chuckle.

“Oh baby, you need this bad, don’t you?”

Carol shuddered. She was adamant to not let go of her ego. “Just hurry up and fuck me.”

Zosia pulled her hand away, her tone becoming stern. “Let’s start with ‘please’.”

Carol bucked her hips forward, but Zosia stayed well out of range. She let out a discontented sigh and reluctantly gave in. “Just hurry up and fuck me, please.” She said pointedly.

Zosia hummed, far from pleased. “We’ll work on that.”

She returned, slipping beneath Carol’s soaked underwear, giving her a firm, steady stroke. She couldn’t help but shiver at the touch. Zosia was so sure in everything she did, and the way she rubbed Carol’s oversensitive pussy was no exception. She was quick to find just the right pace and pressure, using the whimpers and muted expletives from Carol’s mouth as her guide.

If she thought the dry humping was bad, Zosia’s fingers were a million times worse. Carol let her eyes flutter shut, and she looped an arm around Zosia’s neck as she kissed at Carol’s jaw line. That sweet crescendo was rapidly approaching, and Carol’s whole body became rigid as she prepared to finally fall over the edge.

She held her breath, right at the peak.

And then nothing.

All sensations stopped, except for the painful throb of her clit begging to finish. Zosia’s hand, lips, and even the tickle of her hair brushing against Carol’s scorching cheek were all gone. Carol was disoriented as she squirmed about, reaching out for something – anything. Her efforts were fruitless, but she had finally come down enough that she had the wherewithal to open her eyes and look around.

Zosia had moved out of reach. She just sat back, watching her squirm as she was denied her orgasm once more. But there was no sympathetic smile, nor even a teasing comment. Her face was unreadable, but there was something different in her eyes. Something darker. It made Carol shutter.

“What’s wrong?” Carol asked timidly, her voice shaking. “Why’d you stop?”

Zosia tilted her head, eye-contact unbreaking. “When I tell you to say ‘please’, I expect you to be sincere.”

Something was going on here. Something Carol was far too aroused and delirious to fully grasp. All she knew was that the woman sitting before her wasn’t the same woman she had bought flowers and laughed with at the holiday walk. Carol swallowed hard. Somewhere deep beneath the ravenous urge to cum, she was a little afraid.

“Please?” She uttered, hoping it would suffice.

It didn’t.

Carol took a shaky breath, and spoke a little more confidently. “Please, will you fuck me?”

Zosia moved in closer, her stone face never softening. She reached for Carol’s collar, undoing the buttons down her torso. She watched her work, eyes flitting up to her features, waiting for the Zosia she knew to come back.

She didn’t.

Zosia sat her up, and helped Carol out of her top. She tossed it aside, then reached for the clasp of her bra. Zosia paused, and raised her brows, silently asking for permission. Carol granted it with a nod, and her bra joined her clothes on the floor. Once she was laid back, Zosia made quick work of her remaining clothing until she was naked.

The embarrassment of laying out bare for all to see was dwarfed by the way Zosia drank in the sight.

“You’re beautiful,” Zosia said, and edge of softness returning to her voice.

Normally, Carol would have outright denied the compliment, but she had a feeling that wasn’t the answer Zosia wanted.

“Thank you.”

Zosia’s lips curled ever so slightly, which would have come as a relief, but there was a sinister undertone. Carol held perfectly still for her, waiting for her touch. She was nervous to say anything more. Her big mouth and bigger ego had already led to the delay of her orgasm, and she had a feeling Zosia wasn’t afraid to do it again. So, Carol waited as patiently as she could.

Zosia traced her fingers along her body. Needless to say, Carol shivered at every trapse along her oversensitive skin. But the longer she laid there exposed, the more her brain drifted away from her incessant horniness. Anxiety always had a way of creeping in, and this intimate moment was no exception. Her bush was a bit longer than she usually kept it.

“I meant to shave…”

“Don’t.” Zosia ghosted over the tease of damp hair. “I love it like this.”

She was incredibly sincere, and Carol was apt to believe her. If Zosia said she loved it, then she loved it. Zosia didn’t lie. She trembled as Zosia approached right where she needed her most, dragging her nails along her lower stomach. But that was as low as she went. Zosia traced up to her breasts, and Carol let out a huff. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Zosia turned towards the insolent sound and Carol quickly looked away, holding her breath.

Shit.

She expected her to leave again, but instead, Zosia leaned down and kissed her breast. Her tongue swirled around her erect nipple before teeth teased it sharply. A little biting. Carol stifled her moan at first, but then she recalled Zosia’s request. She wanted to hear how much she loved it. Carol let the next moan ring out into the humid room, and she was quickly rewarded with that firm palm cupping her pussy once more. She was finally catching on.

Zosia’s tongue ran laps across her sensitive nipple, and Carol let out another needy whimper. Once again, she was rewarded with a pointer finger sliding up her cunt. Finally, they were getting somewhere. Carol’s hips twitched and bucked, desperate for more. More pressure, more friction, more anything. But Zosia remained steady, swirling her tongue, and ignoring the desirous movements. She wasn’t entirely removed, though. She was watching Carol’s face, paying close attention to every breath and whimper. It was like she was waiting for something. Suddenly, it dawned on Carol.

“Please,” Carol whined. It was the first time she meant it genuinely.

And for her sincerity, she was rewarded. Zosia drug her finger down, then slowly pressed her way inside. Carol’s eyes rolled back as she slid all the way in, reaching into her soul. Her walls didn’t offer an ounce of resistance, and Carol made sure to let Zosia know just how much she loved it with another groan. Zosia slowly slid back out, Carol clenching around her, begging her not to go. Just when she expected her to return with another thrust, there was nothing. Just as before, Zosia had stopped touching her, and Carol was beginning to get frustrated.

“Again,” Zosia said, eyes locked. “Say it again.”

Carol blinked for a moment. She was having a hard time staying in her body, let alone follow directions.

“Please,” she rasped.

Zosia pressed back inside, curling up into just the right spot. Carol’s breath hitched, and she grabbed onto Zosia’s back, encouraging every inch she could give her. This time, when Zosia pulled out, Carol didn’t hesitate.

“Please..."

She returned, and her thumb accompanied her index finger, stroking her swollen clit while she massaged her from the inside out. Zosia didn’t even get the chance to pull out before Carol started begging.

“Please, please, please…”

Zosia’s smile finally returned. She increased her speed, pumping in and out of Carol with vigor. She held on for dear life, nails digging into Zosia’s back as she lost all of her inhibition. At some point, another finger was added, but Carol was so out of it, blubbering and begging, that she barely noticed. Her mind was complete mush as her lust took the controls. As Zosia took the controls.

Zosia was enjoying it just as much. She thrusted into her with a heavy hand, her knuckles smacking into her wet flesh, and a grin taking over that dark expression. She leaned in close, forcing eye contact from the babbling mess below her.

“Do you hear yourself?” Zosia asked, voice husky and raw. “Do you hear how wet you are for me? Look at what a mess you are… Say it, say you’re a mess.”

Carol was practically hypnotized. “I’m… I’m a mess…”

Zosia nodded, incredibly gratified by her compliance. “Tak, jesteś. You want to cum?”

Carol couldn’t respond. She was already approaching the edge, and all the pressure inside of her was about to burst. She held on tight, ready to finally reach ecstasy.

Then it happened again.

Zosia stopped.

“No!” Carol screamed, clawing at her. “Please! Please! Please!”

Zosia may have been strict with her, but she wasn’t cruel. She jumped right back in, pounding into her, and talking her through the orgasm as it racked her body. All of Carol’s pleas turned into a muddled mess as she climaxed hard around Zosia’s aggressive fingers.

“There you go,” Zosia cooed. Any harshness was completely gone. “Let it take you… just like that…”

Carol could have drawn blood with how hard she clawed into Zosia’s back. She clenched and jerked, chasing that euphoria as far as she could. She might have even blacked out for a moment. Everything was a blur.

The moment her orgasm eased, an ugly sob forced its way out of her chest. Carol couldn’t understand why she had suddenly burst into tears. She felt embarrassed the moment her cries hit the air, but Zosia didn’t let her suffer.

She slowly slid out, Carol’s walls still pulsing around her, reluctant to let go. Zosia laid beside her, pulling her into her arms. She stroked her hair with her clean hand, shushing and kissing her.

“You did so good.” Zosia pecked the tears off her cheeks. “It’s ok, just let it out.”

Carol nuzzled in, curling up against Zosia’s chest as they both came down together. Tears kept flowing, no matter how desperately Carol wished for them to stop. She had to have been beyond pathetic in Zosia’s eyes. Crying after sex wasn’t cute. It was just sad.

But Zosia didn’t shame her. She just kept stroking Carol’s hair and shushing her. It took a long time for the tears to subside. It wasn’t until they had reduced to sniffles that Carol had finally recovered enough to speak coherently. Between the earth-shattering orgasm and that massive endorphin crash right after, she was thoroughly exhausted. Still, she found the energy to try to defend what was left of her ego.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I started crying like that…”

Zosia leaned back enough to catch Carol’s eyes. Her voice was firm. “Don’t ever apologize for that. It’s completely natural.”

Carol scoffed, wiping her eyes. “It’s fucking embarrassing is what it is.”

Zosia didn’t tease her. “I don’t mind you crying, Carol. If anything, I take it as a complement.” She smiled tentatively.

It was enough to get Carol to at least pretend to find humor in it. “What, that you’re so good in bed that you fucked me to tears? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.” She rolled to her back and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She had never orgasmed that hard in her entire life. “Jesus Christ… that was…” She was at a loss for words. She peeked over at Zosia, who had reverted back to her docile self. Meek and unassuming. “What the hell even was that?”

Zosia chuckled. “Let me get you some water, then we can talk.”

Cleaned up and snuggled in bed, Carol had finally stopped trembling from her orgasm. Zosia curled up against her, still just as breathtaking with just a blanket over her shoulders. She dragged her nails in shapeless patterns across Carol’s back, legs entwined in the tangled sheets. Carol took a sip from her glass of water, finding the words that had escaped her in the heat of the moment.

“Can I be honest?”

Zosia smiled. “Always.”

“I haven’t had sex like that in probably 25 years…” she gazed off, letting the admission hang in the air a moment. “So… thank you.” Carol awkwardly sipped from her glass once more.

Her counterpart relished in the compliment. “I’m glad you gave me the honor. You did really well too.”

Carol snorted loudly. The suggestible state Zosia had coaxed her into was gone, and she was back to her curmudgeon ways. “Please, all I did was eat you out. But you…” her voice trailed off momentarily. There weren’t enough words to describe the things Zosia made her feel. “Let’s just say, you made me learn a lot of things about myself tonight.”

“Oh?” Zosia tilted her head, her perpetual grin verging on mischievous. “Care to share with the class, Ms. Sturka?”

Carol’s cheeks were burning. “Maybe some other time.”

Zosia didn’t press the issue, but her smug look remained. “Some other time then.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, but Carol didn’t let it stretch on for too long. Her anxiety would never let her.

“Did, um, did you want another turn?”

Zosia raised her brows. “Not satisfied?”

“Trust me I am, it’s just…” She fixed her gaze onto her glass and ran her finger along the edge. “It just doesn’t feel very fair is all. I was trying to do all this for you, but it feels like it ended up with you just worrying about me.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Zosia shrugged. “I was enjoying every moment of it.”

Carol still wasn’t convinced. “Yeah but…”

“But what?”

She was struggling to find the right words. “I just feel like I could have done more I guess.”

Zosia adjusted to sit up more. She took Carol’s hand in her own, and made herself very clear. She didn’t leave space for a single doubt.

“Doing as I say until you completely lose control is the hottest thing you can do for me.” She gave Carol’s hand a shake, just in case the sentiment hadn’t landed. “I mean it. Really.”

Carol sighed. If Zosia meant it, then she meant it. She kissed the back of Zosia’s hand, then held her close. Her attachment to this impossible woman was nearing a dangerous level.

“You know,” Carol said, “you got a little scary back there.”

She chuckled softly. “I scared you?”

“You just… got this look in your eye when I didn’t listen.”

Zosia hummed. “Then maybe you should listen.”

Carol searched her face for any indication of it being a joke, but it didn’t seem to be one. She felt a throb below the belt, and cursed herself. Zosia had awoken something inside of her that she didn’t know how to handle. Thankfully the tension was quickly broken when Zosia’s phone dinged on the nightstand right beside Carol.

“Please tell me it isn’t Stefan,” Zosia groaned. “He’s been trying to call me all week.”

Carol raised a brow. “You haven’t been answering?”

She shook her head. “Like you said, if I don’t want to talk, I shouldn’t have to.”

Carol felt an immense sense of pride. Zosia was a perpetual people pleaser, and it was nice to know some of Carol’s asshole tendencies were rubbing off on her. Only a small amount, she hoped. Carol sat her glass down, leaned over, and checked who the message was from. Her heart sunk. Because it was Stefan, and he had sent a lengthy paragraph in Polish. She couldn’t speak a lick of the language, but it didn’t appear friendly. Carol hesitated to answer.

“Who is it?” Zosia asked, craning her neck.

Without too much thought, Carol swiped the message away, clearing it off her phone. “Just some spam.”

The text was quickly forgotten as the two women returned to their embrace. Zosia had said it again and again. She just wanted to make Carol happy. It was a feat previously thought impossible, but it was the first time Carol could confidently say she had done it. Carol couldn’t remember the last time she had found herself smiling for no reason at all. Yet here she was, wrapped in Zosia’s arms, grinning like an idiot. Happiness, as it turned out, was very much worth chasing.

--------------------------------

The first thing Carol noticed when she woke was her face buried in a sea of brunette. At once, she remembered the events of the previous night. She finally did it. She finally slept with Zosia, and it was even more mind-blowing than she could have ever imagined. They were still tangled in the bedsheets, slow breaths synched and nude bodies welded together. Faint scratches marred Zosia’s back as a reminder of the passion they shared, and her hair was a tousled mess. Carol nuzzled in, inhaling deeply. The sweetness of vanilla from Zosia’s perfume mingled with the faint scent of the sweat she had worked up last night. It was intoxicating. Carol could have embraced Zosia in bed all day.

And she would have if it weren’t for the jarring sound of a door closing.

Carol immediately lifted her head and listened. Was it a loud neighbor? Was it Rudy trying to get into his food? The tubby little cat had a habit of clawing the pantry, and judging by the amount of sunlight filtering through the curtains, his breakfast was quite late. It would have been easy to chock it all up to his feline antics if he hadn’t been sleeping at the foot of the bed.

There was undeniable shuffling out in the living room. Carol’s heart dropped.

Someone was in the apartment.

Her first instinct was to rouse Zosia, but she stopped herself. Suppose it was a burglar with a gun. If Zosia caught a bullet, Carol wouldn’t be able to live with herself. If Carol got gunned down, she was certain everyone would eventually move on. So, she carefully sat up, quiet as a mouse.

Calling the police was the rational thing to do. But what if the intruder heard her? What if they killed her before she could even scream for help? Not to mention her poor opinion of the Albuquerque police department. No one could save them. No one but Carol.

She slipped off the bed, slowly pulling a blanket out from under the snoozing cat. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse. Carol wrapped the blanket around herself so she wasn’t fighting for her life butt naked. The only thing was, she was a terrible fighter. She had gotten in a couple of hair pulling matches in her youth, and a few bar brawls here and there, but even a right hook would prove ineffective to firearm.

A weapon. Carol needed a weapon.

Zosia was probably the last person on earth to keep a gun in the closet or a knife under her pillow. So, Carol had to settle for something weapon-adjacent. There was a small desk tucked in the corner, and she crept over, mindful of where she stepped. She glanced around, quickly locating a pair of scissors. She tested the weight of them in her hand. They’d have to do.

Gripping the scissors so tightly her knuckles whitened, Carol crept toward the bedroom door. Her heart thudded against her ribs and pounded in her ears. The shuffle in the living room came again. It was softer this time, like someone trying not to be heard. She hesitated, every inch of her body tense as she prepared to face the threat alone. She glanced back to Zosia one last time, memorizing the outline of her body gently snoring beneath the sheets. If Carol didn’t make it out alive, at least she died trying to save the woman that had saved her. It was the least she could do.

Carol crept into the hall, arm cocked back, scissors ready to strike. Surely her pounding heart would give her away. She held her breath as she inched out into the living room. A dark figure hunched over the couch made all of the color drain from her face. It was a man that was far larger than her. Carol had to make her peace with whatever higher power there was rather quickly. Because only one of them was making it out alive, and Carol wasn’t going down without a fight.

Carol crept forward, the intruder’s back still to her. She squeezed the scissors tightly, heart in her throat.

A floorboard creaked beneath her foot.

Time seemed to stand still as the man was alerted. He shot straight up, and turned to face the small woman trembling in a blanket. But he wasn’t armed, nor was he there to rob the place. Carol froze as she recognized that face from the engagement photos.

It was Stefan.

Chapter Text

Stefan towered over her, spouting something in Polish. Carol stuttered and stammered, but nothing coherent came out. It was simultaneously a relief and a gut punch to see him standing in Zosia’s living room. He couldn’t have had good intentions.

“Who the fuck are you?” He spat through his thick accent and tight jaw.

“I – I’m – “ Carol quickly got a grip of her emotions. He was the one intruding. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” He tried to walk past Carol towards the bedroom. “Where is my wife?”

His audacity made her blood boil. Carol sidestepped, blocking his path. She held the scissors up once more, that all too familiar rage bubbling up again. “She’s not yours anymore, buddy. Turn around and leave before I make you,” she growled.

Stefan glanced at the measly pair of scissors she wielded so ferociously. Sensing no real threat, he tried to push past her. Unfortunately for Stefan, he had sorely misjudged who he was up against. Carol swiped right at his face, narrowly missing the tip of his nose as he lurched back. His eyes widened at her boldness, but it didn’t stop his mission. He had no time for the feral lesbian wrapped in nothing but a sheet.

“Zosia!” He shouted into the apartment. “Chodź tutaj!”

“She doesn’t want to see you, asshole!” Carol shoved him back, but he didn’t budge. “Leave before I call the cops!”

“Cicho, kobieto!” He yelled at her.

“At least insult me in a language I speak, you dick!”

“Stefan?”

Zosia’s voice broke the tension between the two. She was still tying a robe around herself, but whatever lingering drowsiness she harbored had been shocked out of her. She walked up, arms crossed and guard raised. Her eyes flitted to Carol, a flash of worry, then back to Stefan.

“What are you doing here?”

He started badgering her in their native language.

“English, please,” Zosia urged. “It’s only polite.”

Stefan shot daggers at Carol, reluctantly speaking the foreign tongue. “You haven’t answered my calls.”

“She doesn’t have to, asshole,” Carol interjected.

“Carol, please,” Zosia begged, composure faltering. She took a breath, then turned back to Stefan. “I told you that I needed – “

“You needed space,” he finished for her, as if he had heard it a million times. “I’ve given you space – I’ve given you the world, kochanie. When are you coming home?”

Zosia swallowed hard, eyes darting to Carol then back again. “I’m very happy where I am.”

He scoffed at the notion, looking down on Carol. “Yes, you and your prostitute sure are getting along.”

Zosia adamantly began defending her lover, while it took everything in Carol’s power not to punch him in the nose. She held up her hands. “That’s it, I’m calling the cops.”

She marched back towards the bedroom to retrieve her phone, but Zosia caught her arm. She shook her head, urging Carol not to.

“Kochanie,” Stefan continued, “I’ve stayed out of your bed, I’ve let you have your trip to South America, I’ve even let you have your lovers. What else do I have to do to make you happy?”

Zosia opened her mouth to speak, but Carol beat her to it. “How about you follow through with the divorce and get out of her life?”

Stefan blinked a few times, flabbergasted. “Divorce? Co ona powiedziała? What divorce?”

Carol couldn’t make heads or tails of his denial. “She’s been trying to divorce you for like two years,” she scoffed. “Don’t sit there and play dumb.”

He looked to Zosia, his face marred with despair. “Kochanie… you never said you wanted a divorce…”

Carol had just about had it with this man’s audacity. And now, he was trying to gaslight them. Carol turned to Zosia, frustrated and maddened. “Can you believe this guy?”

But while Carol had expected the sentiment to be returned, she was only met with a guilty expression. Her heart sunk. She didn’t want to believe it.

“You…” Carol’s voice was incredibly fragile. “You didn’t tell him you wanted a divorce?”

Zosia swallowed hard, her eyes locked onto the floor as she shut down. All she could do was shrug.

Stefan, as it would seem, was just as heartbroken as Carol was. Because the woman she thought she knew – that they both thought they knew – had been placating both parties. The truth, as it would turn out, was rather convoluted. It was in that absent stare and guilty shrug that the seed of doubt had planted itself in Carol’s mind. Doubt that Zosia was infatuated with her, doubt that she wanted to stay in Albuquerque, doubt that anything between them was real.

Carol’s walls were up in an instant.

“That’s it,” Stefan reached for his bag he had sat on the couch. “Get dressed. Now. We’re going.”

Shaken as she may have been, no one was allowed to speak to Zosia like that. Carol stood between the two on shaky legs. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“She’s my wife,” he barked. “And her mid-life crisis is over. She’s coming home with me.”

He tried to push past once more to get to Zosia, and Carol didn’t hesitate to swipe at him. "Don't touch her!" The tip of the scissors gouged his hand, and he hissed as he yanked it back.

“Stop it!” Zosia shouted, shoving them apart. “Both of you, stop it!”

Carol was poised to strike his grabby hands once more, but she froze at the command. Stefan clutched his wound, steam rolling out of his ears as he exercised a great deal of restraint.

“You’re stressing her out,” Carol growled. “Stress is her main trigger.”

“I know that. You’re not helping either,” he bit back. “Put those down.”

Carol was reluctant, but ultimately tossed the scissors aside, letting them clatter to the ground. Everything was so clear only a minute ago, but now it was a muddled mess. She pulled the blanket around her tighter, and waited for some kind of explanation.

Zosia took some deep breaths. When she spoke, it came out very measured. “Stefan, I asked you not to come here.”

“I wasn’t going to, but you haven’t answered any of my calls. Did you even see my text message?”

She furrowed her brows. “What text?”

“Yesterday. I texted you right when my flight was leaving.”

Carol started to sweat as Zosia looked to her, an accusatory quirk in her brow. There was no point in denying the obvious.

“You said you didn’t want to talk to him,” Carol muttered.

Zosia’s face fell into something of disappointment, and it made Carol physically ill.

Stefan shook his head, and continued, “Well, if you would have answered me, you would know that your mother is sick.”

The air in the room shifted, and Zosia’s hand went to her mouth. In an instant, Carol was invisible, and Stefan had all of her attention. She fervently questioned him in their native tongue, going back on her decision to speak English in Carol’s presence. The sharp syllables of their conversation cut her out like barbed wire. It became abundantly clear to her that she wasn’t welcome anymore, so she marched off to the bedroom.

Hot tears streaked her cheeks as she rummaged around for her clothing Zosia had sensually pulled off of her last night. The nest of blankets they had been cocooned in was nothing but a memory of the trust they shared. Carol had never felt more vulnerable than she did last night, bare and broken. Now the whole thing just left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d never let herself be vulnerable like that again.

She hustled back out of the bedroom and booked it for the door. She couldn’t even look at her. She tried to slip her shoes on as quickly as possible, but Zosia wouldn’t allow her to leave without talking it out.

“Carol, don’t go.”

Zosia was already on her way, so Carol didn’t bother with her second shoe. She scooped it up, and went for the doorknob. Zosia gripped the edge of the door, urging her to stop.

“Carol, please,” she looked utterly defeated, tears staining her cheeks. “Can we just talk? You and me.”

She normally didn’t have a hard time saying no. But Zosia still had a hold on her heart, no matter how hard she wished she could just let go.

“Make him leave,” Carol uttered, voice trembling.

Surprisingly, he didn’t put up much of a fight. Perhaps he was just as ready to get the hell out of there as Carol was. He gathered his things, and slipped out the door with only a parting message.

“Call me when you’re finished.”

Finally alone, Zosia told Carol what she was dreading.

“Carol, I need to go to Poland to see my family. My mother is in the hospital with pneumonia, and my father is struggling to care for himself. I haven’t been back in a few years, so I really owe it to them.”

She held up her hands, tears at bay for the sake of her pride. “You wanna go with him? Go with him.”

“Carol…” Zosia groaned. “This isn’t about him.”

“Isn’t it?” She snapped. Her voice was broken with rage. “You fucking lied to me! After all that shit we went through last time, you still lied to me! There’s no divorce – you’re just gonna go running back to him when you’re done fucking your way up the continental divide!”

“I didn’t lie, Stefan and I are done. I just – “ She huffed out of frustration. “What I technically said was that the divorce wasn’t going well – “

“Jesus, what are you, a fucking lawyer? You know what I mean.” Carol tried to calm herself down but it wasn’t working. She only got louder. “The point is, you’re just dragging me and this guy along because you’re too scared to stand up for yourself.”

Zosia was getting loud as well. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Who gives a shit?” Carol spat.

“I do!”

Her voice thundered through the apartment, rattling it down to the bones. Such outrage from her lips was unheard of. It was frightening and sobering to say the least. Whether it was due to the tears in her eyes or the way her voice echoed back to her, Zosia eased off. She took a few calming breaths, just like the ones she urged Carol to take whenever her temper took over.

“Besides you, Stefan is the only person who knows me. The real me. And he’s been so patient and understanding as I’ve been figuring it all out myself. My own mother would disown me if she knew about my sexuality. My whole family would. But Stefan, he’s been giving me all the space in the world to work it out. He’s been like a son to my parents, and he’s supported all of my decisions. So even if I’m upset with him, I can’t just throw away everything between us. It’s not fair.”

Carol searched her eyes, willing them to twinkle the same way they did under the fountain of lights. But in the tense atmosphere, everything was dull. Carol’s voice was quiet, yet deliberate. She didn’t want to know, but she had to ask. “So you still love him?”

“Excuse me?”

She swallowed hard, facing her discomfort. Facing her worst fear.

“Do you love him?”

Zosia hesitated. That was all she needed to do.

Carol went for the door.

Zosia blocked her path, back pressed tight against the sealed exit. “Please,” she held back tears as best she could. “You know what I mean. Him and I have a lot of history. It would be the same as if I just up and left you.”

“No,” she said like a question. Zosia’s reassurance did nothing for the panic bubbling in her chest. If anything, it became ten times worse. “You don’t love him the same. It’s not the same. It’s different. He’s a man, you don’t love him like that. You told me so yourself, and we… we’re…” she stammered. “You’re my… You are my…”

The words were heavier on her tongue than she thought they would be. Even now, Carol couldn’t tell where she stood. If anything they had built was even real. She swallowed hard, and retreated back into herself, plugging up her bleeding heart. “You’re my friend. Not his. Mine.”

Those big brown eyes just stared back at her, hanging on every word. She nodded, a smile as fake as plastic forced upon her face. “Yes, that’s – you’re right, Carol. You’re right.”

Carol blinked deliberately. “Do you really mean that or are you just saying that to make me happy? Because it seems to me like you’re doing the same exact thing to Stefan. Does he know about everything between us? How much you – we mean to each other?”

Zosia couldn’t handle the direct confrontation, nor could she answer the question. She was at a complete loss, and she threw up her hands, accepting defeat. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Carol.”

She spat the words out like venom. “I want you to stand up for once in your life and say how you really fucking feel.”

It was sharp and hard to take. Zosia let it sink in for a moment, then tentatively reached out, taking her hand. She gave a reassuring squeeze, tracing her thumb in firm circles. “I really care about you, Carol. But you have to understand. I need to go see my mother. Who knows how many more holidays I’ll get with her?”

Once again, Zosia carefully avoided answering her question, and that was enough to get Carol to pull away. She haphazardly slipped on her other shoe, then forced a smile of her own.

“Have fun in Poland.”

Carol pushed her way through, not even bothering to slam the door behind her.

-----------------------------------

Voicemail. Again, it went to voicemail.

Carol had to double check she was even calling the right number. Bourbon sloshed in her belly as she waddled about her house. Her alcoholism had been improving. She hadn’t had a drink in weeks, and tonight she was going to make up for it. She misclicked on her phone a few times before dialing the number again, and she took another swig from her bottle that was now much lighter in her hand.

“Hello! You’ve reached Zosia Rybak. I’m unable to come to the phone right now, but leave your information and I’ll be sure to get back to you.”

She had heard it over a dozen times in the last hour. Only this time, she didn’t hang up after that long, staccato beep. She had a message for Professor Rybak.

“I get it. You don’t want to – to answer my calls.” Carol steadied herself against the counter. She was a lot more drunk than she thought. “Whatever. I don’t care, because I’m gonna tell you anyway. You’re living in a fucking delusion, that’s what you’re doing. You think you can just smile and nod and no one will ever call you out on your bullshit.” She let out an indignant snort. “Well I’m here to tell you, that I’m the number one bullshit caller.” She made sure to emphasize the word ‘bullshit’ in a sing-song voice before letting her tone become grave. “I know you’ve just been telling me what I want to hear. This – this thing between us? None of its real. But I guess it’s my fault. I’m the fucking moron who fell in love with the idea of you.”

Carol tried to think up some witty remark to lighten the tone, but anything highbrow escaped her. The silence on the line quickly became deafening. A harrowing thought was able to weasel its way through her inebriation. If Zosia didn’t care about her, then who did?

There was a sinking feeling in her belly full of booze. She was right back where she started. Everything was exactly like when Helen died. The empty house, empty bottles, and empty phone calls. That oppressive despair hanging off her that she was left alone to shoulder. She had no family, no friends, and no one to wrap in her arms at night.

“I have no one…” she breathed into the receiver. It was less a message for Zosia, and more of her internal thoughts trickling out of her loose lips. “My family is estranged, I’ve pushed away any friends I had, and – and you…” she buried her face in her hand, trying to bear it. “God dammit, I just wanted it to be real. I wanted it so fucking bad… to believe that you really loved me back. And now, you’re gone, and I – I’m alone…” She started sniffling, unable to stop the strong wave of emotions coming to the surface. “I can’t do it again. I can’t lose you Zo, you’re – you’re the only thing I care about. Please… please don’t do this… please, please, please…”

Her sobs echoed in the quiet kitchen, the phone trembling in her hand as she struggled to catch her breath. She let the phone fall away from her ear, her arm limp at her side. For a long moment, Carol just stood there, swaying slightly, anchored only by the counter beneath her palm. The beep of the voicemail’s time limit startled her, but she didn’t have the strength to call back. Zosia wasn’t going to answer. Zosia was gone.

Carol went for her bottle once more, but she couldn’t even find the strength to lift it to her lips. Even alcohol couldn’t numb the knife twisting against her heart. She didn’t have the strength to do anything. Slowly, she slid down against the counter, sobs dissipating into faint sniffles. The words kept echoing in her mind.

Alone.

She was alone.

Something dreadful crossed Carol’s mind. She began to wonder if this same emptiness was what Helen felt that night she drove down to the train tracks. If Carol had made her feel that way. If all of it was her fault. The thought had scared her sober enough to pick up the phone again. Zosia wasn’t answering, so she went out on a limb. She didn’t want to, but she was terrified of what she might do in this drunken state riddled with heightened emotions.

The line rang only a few times.

“Carol?” Koumba’s voice was groggy with sleep. “Why are you calling me so late? Is something the matter?”

She couldn’t get a single word out before she started sobbing into the receiver.

----------------------------------

The hot cocoa packets were ancient, but there wasn’t much in Carol’s cupboards. She tucked her feet up onto the couch, blowing away the curls of steam before taking a sip. Her lips puckered.

“Tastes like shit,” she drawled.

Koumba took no offense as he sat down beside her with his own mug. “Perhaps if I had some real ingredients to work with, it would taste better. You need to go grocery shopping.”

Carol shrugged, still boozy and sensitive. “Haven’t had to. I’ve been at… a lady friend’s house. She likes cooking.”

Koumba hummed and took a sip of the piping hot liquid. It was strange to see him outside of his eccentric suits he wore to work, and his hair was in a neutral state rather than slicked back. It made him feel more personable. Like she could talk to him. She owed him an explanation at the very least, as her tear-filled rambling over the phone was most certainly difficult to decipher. To her surprise, he arrived at her house rather quickly without her so much as asking.

“Sorry I called you so – so late.” Carol sniffled.

Koumba shrugged. “I was having a hard time sleeping anyway. Besides, your mental breakdown is much more entertaining than the backs of my eyelids.” He winked.

Carol gave him a tight-lipped smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. Koumba caught on quickly. Now wasn’t the time for jokes.

“Did you want to talk about it?” He prompted.

Carol burrowed back into the cushion, her eyes trained on the reruns playing silently on the TV. “Why the hell not? I’ve already embarrassed myself plenty in the last 24 hours.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna die alone.”

There was perhaps a slight eyeroll from Koumba at her theatrics. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with your lady friend that likes to cook, hm?”

“She’s been hiding her feelings from me,” Carol lamented. “And now, I’m not even sure if she’s interested in me, or if I was just some… some experiment or something.”

“Huh,” Koumba clicked his tongue. “What a coincidence, that’s how things are going with Shannon and I.” He spared Carol a shameful glance. “The trip to Vegas was cancelled… we’re taking a break.”

“Shit, I’m sorry man…” Carol sat up a bit more, her head reeling. She held on to her mug for dear life. “What – what even happened?”

“I don’t know. I think she just got bored of me.” He trilled his lips, feigning aloofness. “Eh, I knew it was too good to be true.”

Carol patted his knee with a heavy hand. “Chin up, there’s plenty of rich divorcees in Albuquerque.”

He gave her a weak smile, then got back to the heart of his visit. He sat back, crossing his foot over his ankle. “Enough about me. Tell me about your lady friend.”

Carol spared no details as she laid everything out. The flirting at work, the secret husband, the intimate back rub, their first date. She sort of tiptoed around their lustful night, but Koumba could fill in the blanks himself. He listened attentively as she divulged, letting her spew it all back out at him.

“ – So she’s going back to Poland with her stupid husband like – like none of this even mattered. She won’t even return my calls…” Her hot cocoa was lukewarm by the time she finished.

Koumba hummed, nodding thoughtfully. “I see…”

“So, that’s why I called you. You’re the only friend I have left…”

Koumba nodded. The fact that he didn’t tease her about calling him a friend was out of character, but appreciated. “You want to know what I think, Carol?”

“Not usually, but yeah.”

“I think you need to grow up.”

Her mouth hung open. She was so offended she couldn’t even respond.

“Carol, you are an award winning author, a mildly respected college professor, and most importantly, a 50-year-old woman. Yet, here you are, acting like a love-sick puppy over a woman you’re too afraid to call your girlfriend. Stop worrying about this Miss Perfect and worry about yourself. Figure out who you are and what you want for your life. And if she doesn’t fit in that plan, then that’s that.”

Maybe it was the alcohol or her drowsiness, but it actually sounded like Koumba made a good point. A rather harsh critique of her character, but a good point, nonetheless. Carol had been letting Zosia occupy all of her thoughts, and it was impacting so much of her life. She was becoming scarily dependent on her, and this spat over Stefan was a real wake up call. Carol needed something else to pursue besides Zosia’s love. If she wasn’t ready to let go of Stefan, Carol wasn’t going to wait for her.

Drunk or not, Koumba’s words resonated with her. She turned to him on the couch, completely blown away.

“That was like… the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Koumba blinked a few times. “I was trying to be pragmatic – ”

“You’re right, I’m fucking New York Times best-selling author Carol fucking Sturka. I should be making Wycaro movies, or doing Ted Talks. Why have I been chasing this woman who doesn’t even love me back? I’ve got a whole life ahead of me dammit!”

Koumba laughed at her drunken bragging, egging her on. “That’s the spirit. Don’t let her hold you back.”

“Same goes for you, buddy. Shannon doesn’t know what she’s missing out on. You know what you ought to do? Go to the Country Club and hit on that girl Ashley that works the bar.” She let out a snort. “That’ll really get under Shannon’s skin.”

He perked up at the suggestion. “Oh yeah? And how do you know this?”

“That’s what her ex-husband always did after a fight.”

Koumba let out a laugh, then held up his mug, “Cheers! To bachelorhood!”

Carol gleefully joined the cheer, although she would have much preferred booze in her cup. She went to take a sip, but froze as her phone started buzzing on the coffee table. Koumba grabbed it for her. He didn’t need to glance at the caller ID to know it was Zosia, the woman Carol had been crying over.

He raised a brow, holding it up. “I think your lady friend is ready to talk.”

Her newfound ambitions went out the window as she snatched her phone and quickly answered. “Zosia?”

“Carol? Oh thank God. I was on the plane so I just now got your message. I never should have left you upset like that. Are you somewhere safe? Do I need to send someone to get you? You know what, I just got to my connection in O’Hare, but I’m turning around right now – “

“Don’t,” Carol blurted. To know she wasn’t ignoring her was a relief, and even if Carol was upset with Zosia, she couldn’t deny the way her heart lightened at the sound of her voice. “I’m just drunk, and besides, I'm a grown woman who can take care of herself. You go see your family. Just…” she hesitated, trying not to let on just how much she was already missing her. “Just promise me you’ll come back?”

“I promise. When I get back, I’ll make this up to you. I swear.”

Chapter Text

Carol knew the holidays would be rough. She herself was never a fan of them. Growing up, Christmas was always filled with arguments, smashed ornaments, and isolation. Helen was Carol’s saving grace in the dark of the winter solstice. She hung lights, strung up tinsel, and insisted on blaring an old Christmas record every day of December. The house was dark and quiet without her this year, but Carol wasn’t alone.

Koumba kept coming around.

At first, it was simple things. A trip to the grocery store, a bottle of peppermint schnapps with no one to help him drink it, leftover cake he couldn’t finish himself. He’d drop by and invite himself in. Not long, just a few hours a day. Carol asked him what his intentions were, but he was always incredibly vague.

“I haven’t got anything better to do,” he’d say.

One morning, the familiar chime of her doorbell echoed through the house, stirring her from her slumber. Her mouth tasted like vomit, and she couldn’t see anything through her curtain of hair as she sat up. She knew in an instant she had overdone it last night. She really wasn’t going to, but one drink led to another, and it all led to her blacking out. The pounding in her skull was nauseating, and even just the faint light through her bedroom window was blinding. She froze as she realized exactly where she was.

She was in her bed.

She had been sleeping out on the couch still, so the bare mattress below her was surprising to say the least. The doorbell dinged again, garnering her attention away from whatever feelings her sleeping arrangement evoked. She rolled out of bed, feet barely catching her as she focused on her balance. Her head was swimming as she stumbled out into the hall, and tried to remember what the hell she was doing.

Ding.

Right, the door. She didn’t bother checking who it was as she cracked it open, wincing at the blinding winter sun. Koumba was there with a toothy grin and a small package tucked under his arm.

“Merry Christmas!” He chirped.

The cogs were slow to turn. That was right, it was Christmas. That’s why she was so hungover.

“You here to sing me some Christmas carols?” She croaked.

Koumba laughed, worming his way in the door. “I would if I knew any good ones.”

Carol let him in, still adjusting to her body being vertical. She rubbed her eyes, and when she opened them, Koumba was handing her a gift wrapped in colorful paper. She took it apprehensively. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” he said, shrugging off his coat.

“But I didn’t get you anything…”

Koumba chuckled. “No need. I don’t celebrate.”

“Well still…” she huffed. “It doesn’t feel fair.”

“Just open it already.”

She tore into the paper, expecting some kind of gag or something wildly inappropriate. To her surprise, there was at least a little thought behind the gift. It was a book.

“’The You You Are’?” She read the title with her nose upturned. “What is this, some kind of self-help book?”

Koumba leaned forward, pointing to the cover. “It’s the ‘spiritual biography of you’. I figured since you’re discovering yourself and all that, you might enjoy some wisdom.”

Carol turned it over in her hands. The loser on the cover did not look like someone who imparted wisdom. She waved the book overhead as she paced to the liquor cabinet. “Thanks. I’ll put it right between Emerson and Thoreau.”

Christmas wasn’t the only thing Carol had been drinking to forget. Zosia was due back in a few days, and things between them were still tense. They had talked on the phone only a couple times since her departure. It was all very surface level. Once to let Carol know she had arrived in Poland, and once to make sure Carol still planned on picking her up from the airport. But Carol didn’t let the conversation drag on for more than the simple exchange of information, and she never called first. She made a point of that after her drunken voicemail incident. Even deep in a bottle of vodka, she refused to be the one to reach out. Carol needed her space, and they both needed to figure out what they wanted.

Koumba clicked his tongue, following her. “I just think it wouldn’t hurt if you focused your energy into something a little more positive rather than – “

“You want a drink? You want a drink.” Carol exchanged the book for a couple of glasses.

He apprehensively watched her pour them until the amber liquid kissed the rim. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? It would seem you still have last night’s drink all down the front of you.”

Carol glanced down, only just realizing there was vomit staining the front of her tank top. That would explain the taste in her mouth at least. She washed it out with a little whisky. “I’m on a bender, alright? I’m just pushing through this slump and I’ll be back to writing, or teaching, or whatever.” She drank a little more.

“And day drinking is going to help that?”

“Hair of the dog.”

She belched into her fist, resisting the urge to throw up all the whiskey burning its way down her throat. She clutched the edge of the bar, keeping her balance against the blinding migraine. Hopefully the liquor would take care of that. She handed Koumba his glass, but he politely declined.

“You know, I am the last person to stop a party,” Koumba started. “But this is just sad, Carol. I believe there are far better cures for a breakup – “

“We were never officially together,” she quickly corrected, taking another sip. “We’re just taking some time apart while Zosia figures out what the hell she wants. And I’m not drinking because of her, alright? I’m… I’m celebrating… the holiday.” She rambled out the words as they came to her.

“Right…” Koumba hummed. “I do believe denial is the first step.”

Carol merely rolled her eyes, nursing her drink. She dry heaved as the alcohol started to burn in her belly, and Koumba snatched her glass. Carol tried to grab it back, but even on her tip-toes, he kept the glass well out of reach.

“That’s enough. Go drink some water, and please, take a shower. I can’t let you just sit here and drink yourself to death. They’ll think I had something to do with it, and I am not going to prison over some old white woman with a drinking problem.”

She gave up trying to steal it back. “Old? I’m not old, I’m – I’m middle aged!”

“Yes, well, that would explain this mid-life crisis,” he jeered.

Carol trilled her lips, leaning against the bar. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is just a mid-life crisis. Sure wish I had a self-help book to tell me what to do with my life,” she antagonized. She picked up the gift, and pretended to listen to it closely. “What was that Dr. Ricken? I should go to Vegas and blow all my money on gambling and strippers? Well, if you insist!”

Koumba bit back a smile, trying his best to not reveal how amusing he found her. “Trust me, I’d rather be in Vegas too.”

Carol thought for a moment, an idea shining through her cloudy mind like a ray of sunshine. “…Then let’s go to Vegas.”

He snorted at the ridiculous notion. “It’s nearly a ten hour drive.”

“Then let’s fly.”

“This soon? During the holidays?” He scoffed. “The prices are surely outrageous.”

“I’ll buy.” Carol shrugged. Wycaro really did pay the bills well. “I’ll even pay for you to bring a plus one so you have someone else to bother.”

“I – I’m not saying no, but… are you sure this is a good idea?”

Carol leaned in, calmly taking back her drink from his side. “I think it’ll get me out of this slump.” She knocked back the rest of the liquor, wincing as she did so. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Well, alright then,” a wide grin started to overtake his face as he paced towards the door.

“Wait, before you go…” Carol scurried off to the foyer, digging out an item collecting dust. She brushed it off, then returned to Koumba, handing it over. “Merry Christmas.”

He accepted the gift with feigned excitement. “Wow, a copy of Wycaro.”

“A signed copy,” she pointed out. “It’ll be worth a lot of money after I drink myself to death.”

----------------------------

The city was alive, despite the late hour, and the hotel was just a few blocks away. So, they stumbled out of the casino, hopefully heading the right direction.

“Why the long face, Koumba?” Carol jested, elbowing him. “You didn’t lose that much.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t win anything either,” he grumbled, hands tucked in his pockets. “Meanwhile, mister ‘I don’t gamble’ made a killing on his first game of poker, then just cashed out.”

Manousos, Koumba’s reluctant plus one, had just as big of a smile as Carol. “Eres malo en las cartas.”

The neon lights flickered overhead, illuminating the path as they navigated the crowded sidewalk. Carol pretty much broke even at the casino, but she cared little about the money. The most important part for her was the distraction from her colleague across the globe. Manousos and Koumba proved to be most excellent at keeping her mind off of it with their playful – and sometimes not so playful – banter. It was nice to have someone help her team up on Koumba for once.

Carol slung an arm around the sore loser’s shoulder, already plotting their next destination. “Let’s find somewhere with cheap drinks and bad karaoke.”

“Let’s,” Koumba groaned. “If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll find something cute to take back to my hotel room.” He let his eyes wander to a scantily clad woman passing by, and Manousos was quick to flick him in the head.

“Manny, you need to go out with us more often. Yo me gusta – uh, your company,” Carol stammered.

Her poor Spanish skills were only perpetuated by the margaritas she had at the casino, but it seemed like he understood the sentiment. Bars were plentiful along the strip, and Koumba selected them the one with the loudest music. The place was packed with all sorts of eccentric individuals. As they waded through the crowd, Carol was quick to notice the many jock straps and fishnets on the overly groomed gentlemen in the establishment. The fact that all of the drinks were named after notable female figures in pop culture only solidified her suspicions.

“Can I get a Streisand,” Koumba read off the menu. “And for my friends, a Madonna on the rocks, and a Dirty Diana.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff.” The effeminate bartender winked.

Carol handed over her card, as Koumba was too busy being flattered. He fussed with his hair and adjusted his collar, a big smile plastered on his face.

“Hot stuff…” he echoed. “You see Carol? Even this man knows how handsome I am. I’m sure the women all took notice when we walked in.” He glanced around, looking for someone to woo.

“Seriously?” Carol snorted. “Koumba, it’s a gay bar.”

He furrowed his brow, taking stock of his surroundings. A decent amount of the female population were sporting combat boots and mullets. His goofy smile started to fade. “I see. Maybe I chose poorly…”

“Did you want to leave?”

He gave it some thought. “Perhaps…”

Carol tried to catch Manousos’s eyes and have him join in the teasing, but he himself was rather distracted by a bear of a man across the bar.

“Manny?”

He jumped, quickly turning back to his friends, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Si?”

“Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?”

He crossed his arms, leaning his back against the bar, gaze deviating back to his fixation ever so slightly. “This is fine.”

Carol wasn’t an idiot. She knew that longing look anywhere. She hadn’t picked up on it immediately, but now a lot of things were starting to make sense about Manousos. He didn’t have any family in the States, hence why he didn’t mind spending his winter break in Vegas. The only insight Carol had into his familial relationships was that his mother was a bitch. It was something they could relate on. But Manousos had never mentioned any romantic prospects. Even Koumba had complained at one point that Manousos never joined in on his ‘guy talk’. He would scold him for speaking about women in that way, and denounce any sort of hedonistic acts. Carol thought it was because he was Catholic, but now, the closet was clear as glass.

“Sorry, Koumba. Two to one. We’re staying,” Carol concluded. “You better hope some of them are bisexual.”

Their drinks arrived, and Carol kept her tab open for all three of them. It was her bender after all, and she was finding it difficult to care about how much money she was spending. Helen had wanted to go skiing in Aspen during Carol’s winter break, so realistically, she was saving money getting plastered in Vegas. The bartender had poured all of their drinks a little heavy handed, most likely from Koumba’s looks.

Carol took one of the few open seats with a groan. They had been on their feet for most of the day. “Alright, I’m parking here. You two can go and do whatever you want.”

“You don’t want to dance?” Koumba asked, shaking his hips.

“I’d rather puke.” She waved him off. “Go mingle.”

He sashayed out towards a gaggle of women who were most assuredly uninterested. Manousos sat beside Carol, still keeping a careful eye on the man he had been ogling. Carol watched him a moment. It kind of reminded her of the way she’d watch Zosia from afar. Admiring her figure, wishing she could kiss her pink lips, desperate to get in her good graces.

Oh no. She was thinking about Zosia again.

Carol started chugging her drink.

“Slow,” Manousos warned. “You will get sick.”

Carol winced as she swallowed. Damn it was strong. “I – “ She shivered and gagged a little. “I’m a professional. Muy buena at glug glug glugging.” She forced a smile.

He gave her a look before relenting and sipping off his own drink far more modestly. Once again, his gaze drifted over, only this time, the other man noticed him too. Carol could feel the energy between them instantly. She nudged Manousos with her foot, and it nearly scared him to death.

She gestured with a nod of the head. “Go talk to him.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“C’mon, I see you looking at him. Go up and introduce yourself.”

Manousos was jittery in his seat, he seemed to say a silent prayer, then pushed back from the bar. He fixed his shirt, tucking it in like a complete square, then fussed with his hair ever so slightly. He glanced to Carol for some reassurance, as he was clearly way out of his comfort zone.

“Muy guapo.” She winked.

It was enough to get him to take some uncertain steps forward. Carol gave him a little shove, and sent him on his way. All alone, it was just her, a tall drink, and loud pop music blasting in her ear drums. She finished off a few glasses before the whole room started to sway. Drunk enough to not think about Zosia. Perfect.

“Is this seat taken?”

Carol barely registered that someone was talking to her. She swung her head around, and took a few moments to focus on the woman beside her. She certainly didn’t fit in with the crowd the bar seemed to attract. She was dressed in a pantsuit, with long waves of raven hair, and a slight scowl resting on her face.

“Nope.” Carol shook her head, gesturing to the stool Manousos had abandoned. “All yours.”

She thanked her chastely and sat, rubbing her ankle as if she had injured it. Carol looked her over not so discretely. She looked like she should be in a law office, not a gay bar. Not to mention she had a cut above her left brow with a small bandage over it. An odd character indeed. The woman was very keen, and took notice of Carol’s staring immediately.

“Can I help you?”

She blinked a few times, realizing she was talking to her. Carol vaguely gestured to her face. “What, erm, what happened there?”

The woman let out a huff. “It’s a long, long story. Let’s just say, when your coworker claims to be an excellent driver, perhaps you should check if they have a license first.”

Carol hummed. “Noted… so you’re here with coworkers too?”

“I am,” she craned her neck and looked around, “although they seem to have abandoned me…” she gave Carol a quick once over. “And where are yours?”

Carol pointed to Koumba on the dance floor. “There’s one, grinding up on girls he’s too old for,” She pointed to Manousos on the other side of the bar, grinning as he chatted, “and the other is discovering things about himself.”

“I see. What a coincidence we’re both here with our colleagues. I don’t suppose you were also at the American Pharmacists Expo?”

“N-No,” Carol slurred. “I’m a English teacher. At the uh – the college. Albuquerque – not the college here.”

Her eyes narrowed, a hint of amusement about her. “An English professor, I should have guessed. It’s evident in your grammar.”

Carol chuckled and looked away bashfully. “I’m more eloquent when I’m sober.”

“I’m sure. Speaking of, I need something strong.” She snapped her fingers, commanding the bartender’s attention. “Excuse me? How long have I been sitting here and you haven’t offered to serve me?”

The bartender took his time moseying back over, clearly already irritated.

“A dirty martini. Extra dry. Extra olives,” she snipped.

The bartender pointed to the board behind him. “Gotta order off the menu, babe. It’s busy, I’m not doing anything special right now.”

She let out a growl under her breath as she struggled to make heads or tails of the silly drinks listed on the back wall.

“Get her a Dirty Diana,” Carol interjected. “Throw it on my tab.”

As the bartender took off, the woman furrowed her brow, looking at Carol curiously.

“Closest thing they got to a martini,” Carol assured, showing off her own that was nearly empty.

The woman reluctantly relaxed into her seat. “Well… that’s very kind of you.”

“I try to be.” Carol shrugged. There was something about the abrasive nature of this woman that she found refreshing. Carol extended her hand, swaying slightly as she did so. “I’m Carol, by the way.”

She shook it gingerly. “Laxmi.”

“Laxmi,” Carol echoed back, her pronunciation rather poor. “I like that. Rolls off the tongue. Laxmi. Laaaaaxmi…”

“Thank you,” she said, her lips tight.

Carol tilted her head, examining her through her beer goggles. “So, what – what’s a buncha pharmacists doing in a place like this?”

Laxmi clicked her tongue. “Believe me, it was not my choice. There was a vote. It wasn’t unanimous.”

“Too many fruits in the basket, hm?” Carol snorted at her own joke, slurping up her drink. She was far too inebriated to know when to just shut up. “See, I thought I was the only fruit in our basket, then Manny goes running off after a – a bear I guess? I think that’s what they call it… but it’s fine, I don’t mind drinking alone…”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Laxmi offered a slight smile, and Carol returned it.

“Guess you are.”

A couple more Dirty Dianas arrived, and the two women slipped into casual conversation. Laxmi lived in Flagstaff, which in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t too far from Albuquerque. She worked in a hospital as one of the lead pharmacists. She had plenty of complaints about her coworkers who had insisted on staying after their conference concluded a week ago. Carol also learned that Laxmi found jazz insufferable, dogs annoying, and black coffee disgusting.

Carol leaned on her fist. “You’re kind of a Debbie Downer, aren’t you?”

Laxmi perked up, quickly becoming defensive. “You find my strong opinions offensive?”

“Not at all,” Carol drawled. “I love it. You say what’s on your mind. It’s a breath of fresh air.”

Laxmi lowered her haunches, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I think if more people said how they felt, the world would be a better place.”

“You said it, girlfriend.” Carol held up her glass, and Laxmi indulged her with a clink.

“I think you and I are kindred spirits. Tell me Carol, what are some strong opinions of yours?”

She let out a snort. “God, where to start… you know those little skin tight suits that cyclists wear? Yeah, those should be illegal.”

Much to Carol’s surprise, Laxmi giggled. The Dirty Dianas must have been really loosening her up, because until that point, none of Carol’s jokes had landed. She took it in stride, coming up with all sorts of ridiculous things that irked her, and Laxmi just kept laughing along. At some point in her drunken rambling, Koumba came back to check in and get another drink for himself. He hovered nearby as he waited for his order.

“Oh, and candy corn? Yuck!” Carol feigned a gag. “I’d rather eat a handful of raisins – which by the way, also super fucking nasty – so that should tell you how much I hate it.”

Laxmi shook her head, still laughing at her absurdity. “I’m sorry, but I have to disagree with you on that one. Raisins are delicious.”

“I agree,” Koumba inserted. “Sorry, buddy. Two to one.”

Laxmi glanced between the two expectantly, and Carol groaned before introducing him. “Laxmi, this is Professor Diabaté, the town pervert. Koumba, this is Laxmi. She’s out of your league, so don’t even bother.”

Koumba took Laxmi’s hand, giving it a small shake. “A pleasure. I’m sure Carol here has spoken poorly of me. I can assure you, it’s all an exaggeration.”

Laxmi took her hand back, keeping an eye on him. “I trust Carol’s judgement.”

Needless to say, Carol had a shit-eating grin on her face. Koumba dusted off his shoulder and stood tall. He examined Carol for a brief moment before coming to some sort of conclusion with a devious smile.

“Tell me, Carol.” He folded his hands behind his back, giving Carol a pointed look. “When does your girlfriend come back?”

“She’s not – she’s not my anything, I told you that. And she comes back on, uh…” Carol squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to remember what day it was. “On Monday? Yeah, Monday. Why?”

“No reason.” He gave her chair leg a little kick, took his drink, and returned to the dance floor.

It was hard to forget Zosia when Koumba was around to keep bringing her up. Especially when he was doing it just for the sake of being an asshole. She watched him go, unable to think up anything witty, then turned back to Laxmi and apologized. “Sorry, he just likes to tease. I – I don’t have a girlfriend. Well, I mean, we never really put a label on it – it’s just sorta – “ She trilled her lips and gestured with her hands, but whatever she was trying to convey didn’t come across coherently to either party. “He – he just thinks I should figure out who I am without her, be my own person, blah blah blah...”

“So, have you figured it out?”

Carol let out a long sigh. She hadn’t figured out much of anything. She still didn’t know where she wanted to go with her life. So far, she had been spending most of their break at the bottom of a bottle, waiting for some kind of epiphany to strike. She had pulled out her Wycaro notes at one point, and attempted to start the next book, but she didn’t make it beyond the first paragraph. Her inspiration was practically nonexistent, and her thoughts always lingered back to Zosia, no matter how hard she tried.

She missed her smile, the smell of her perfume, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. But there was still that hollow feeling that none of it was genuine. Just half-truths and careful wording to keep Carol in her good graces. Without brutal honesty, this ship was sailing nowhere. The way things were going for Carol, Laxmi would be a far better fit than Zosia, with her bluntness and authenticity. The thought zipped through Carol’s mind, but she didn’t dwell on it.

Carol held up her glass with a lopsided smile. “I’ve still got a few days to figure it out.”

Laxmi hummed, then began digging in her purse. “Do you smoke?”

“I – uh yeah. Yeah, I can.”

The cool desert night was a much needed reprieve from the hot and humid bar. Plenty of drunken patrons trickled down the street, returning to their hotels and resorts as closing time approached. Carol herself should have stumbled back to her room just down the street, but she found herself striking up.

Laxmi took a long drag, letting the smoke out in a steady exhale. Carol followed suit, coughing just a little at the tail end of it. She had never been much of a smoker.

“So, you ever do the drugs?” Carol asked.

Laxmi shook her head, watching all of the dancing lights above the street. “No. I’d like to keep my license.”

She hummed. “Well, if you did do ‘em, which one’s would you do?”

“None of them.”

Carol expected at least some contemplation. She cocked her head, examining the way the lights shimmered off of her eyes. “You are a very confident lady. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

She let out a small chuckle. “As are you.”

“Sometimes.” Carol puffed a cloud of smoke up above them, the wisps melting into the darkened sky. “Right now, I’m not sure what I want. My brain tells me to just focus on my career and get my life together again. But then my heart…”

“Tells you the exact opposite,” she finished for her with a knowing look. “I’ve been in your shoes before.”

She perked up, stepping closer. “Well, what did you do?”

“I didn’t listen to either,” she admitted. “I listened to my father and ended up in a career I hate in the middle of the desert.” She took a drag from her cigarette, then flicked the ashes to the ground. “If I could do it all again, I think I’d listen to my brain.”

“And why’s that?”

Laxmi caught her eyes, tender and inviting. “Because my heart wanted something it could never have.”

She knew exactly how she felt – those same feelings were all mixed up in Carol’s mind. She swallowed hard, sensing a deeper meaning behind Laxmi’s words. Carol became lost in her eyes, and it made her stomach do a flip, but she didn’t push it down. There was something so magnetic about this out of place woman, and it was pulling her in. Carol couldn’t tell if it was her blurred vision or if Laxmi was leaning in closer as well. Carol’s heart was racing, and she found herself completely entranced. Her body was merely a puppet she had little control over, driven by her need for connection. That carnal desire to feel something genuine. To feel wanted. And in that moment, her scowl was far more desirable than a fake smile.

The cigarette fell from Carol’s lips as she leaned in and kissed her.

Carol’s eyes fluttered shut as she tried to live in that moment. Tried to be the person that kissed strangers at bars. Maybe some small part of her wanted to use it as revenge. To show Zosia just how undesirable she had made her feel, and that there were people out there who wanted to love Carol with their full chest. But it didn’t seem to matter how much she gave in to her drunken desires. Neither of their hearts were in it.

Laxmi jerked away, surprised to say the least. The whole thing had only lasted a second, but it was that brief moment of poor judgment that made everything between them incredibly awkward.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit…” Carol ran her hands through her hair. “I am so sorry, you – you’re not – Jesus, what’s wrong with me…”

“It’s fine,” Laxmi said through tight lips. “I was the one at the gay bar. I should have known this was a possibility…”

“No, but I shouldn’t have – “ Carol rubbed her face as she paced about, forcing sober thoughts. “You were being so nice, and I made it weird…”

“Carol, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ve still enjoyed our evening together.” Laxmi held Carol’s arm, urging her to cease her pacing and look at her. “I hope we can still be friends?”

Carol took a steadying breath, nodding in agreement. It was a miracle she hadn’t ruined everything between her and her kindred spirit. “Y-Yeah, of course. Can’t remember the last time someone enjoyed listening to me bitch.”

The poor attempt at debauchery was cut short, and Carol stumbled back inside to close out her tab. She chose not to look at the total as she tucked everything back into her pockets.

Her and Laxmi quickly exchanged contact information. Laxmi promised to call her up the next time she was in Albuquerque, and they parted ways. Carol looked around for her companions, desperate to call it a night. Koumba was still tearing up the dance floor, and Manousos was nowhere to be found. So, she gathered herself and what little dignity she still had, and stumbled back alone.

Everything hit her all at once in her hotel room as her buzz started to wear off. She kissed Laxmi. It could have just been the alcohol drawing her in to Laxmi’s prickly personality, but drunk or not, it happened. She wanted to take it as a win. As proof that she could move on if Zosia refused to take their relationship seriously. Because ultimately, that was what it all came down to.

It didn’t feel like a win though.

It felt like she cheated.

Zosia was in Poland, fretting over her sick mother, while Carol was in Vegas kissing a woman she hadn’t known more than a few hours. But she was entitled to explore her options – that’s what Carol told herself. Zosia had a whole entire husband she claimed to still love. Granted, she didn’t kiss him anymore, but clearly there was something between them. Why couldn’t Carol go out and smooch a stranger? It only seemed fair.

But then again, what would Zosia think if she knew Carol had kissed someone else? What would she say to her? How disappointed would she be? Carol’s anxious thoughts had brought some Dirty Dianas back up her throat and into her hotel toilet, as well as down the front of her shirt. Thoroughly emptied and exhausted, she flopped back on her bed, dirty and disgusted with herself.

It took all of her willpower not to call Zosia that night and divulge everything that had happened. The day drinking, the kiss, and everything she was feeling, raw and unfiltered. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just give in and undermine everything she stood for. Carol needed space, no matter how much it made her heart ache.

She cried into the mattress until sleep took her, empty and alone.

Chapter Text

Carol wasn’t sure what feelings would be dredged up when she saw Zosia again. She didn’t know if she’d still be angry, or frustrated, or just flat out numb. She had at least found enough inner peace during break to pick Zosia up from the airport. She waited near the gate, hands fidgety and legs restless.

She had just come down off her week long bender, and the hangover lasted almost two whole days. But she wanted to be sober when she saw her again. She wanted her mind clear and primed to receive whatever kind of honeyed words Zosia had crafted over the last week and a half. Carol wasn’t accepting any half-truths or sugar-coated bullshit. She couldn’t let whatever was left between them be built on lies. She couldn’t.

Carol watched the crowd of people filing out of the baggage claim, all of them surely returning from happy holiday vacations. Zosia always stood out in a sea of faces, and today was no exception. But this time, she wasn’t glowing like usual. She looked exhausted, presumably from the jetlag, and her eyes had a sadness in them that didn’t dissolve the moment she saw Carol. If anything, it only got worse.

Zosia came to a stop just a few feet away, and she held Carol’s gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke, nor did they falter. Both were waiting for the other to speak. Both waiting for a sign that they were welcome.

“Hey,” Carol finally said. “Welcome back.”

Zosia’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she let out a breath she had been holding. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

Neither had anything more to say. Not in the bustling airport at least. So, Carol led Zosia back out to her car, both of them walking in synchronized silence. Zosia stuffed the trunk whilst Carol blew a zero and started up the engine. She was due to get the breathalyzer removed soon, and that day couldn’t come fast enough. Zosia took the passenger seat wordlessly, eyes focused on anything but the woman beside her. The air in the car became awkward and suffocating as they drove away from the airport. It was insufferable.
“How’s your mother?” Carol asked, desperate to lighten the mood, if only a fraction.

“She’s doing well. She’s back at home recovering.”

Carol’s eyes were firmly locked on the road. “That’s good to hear.”

If Zosia was trying to make things up, she wasn’t off to a good start. Carol had expected some sort of apology. Even a lame excuse as to why she couldn’t be honest about her feelings. It was a twenty minute drive back to Zosia’s apartment, and it was starting to seem like the entire drive would be completed in silence.

All Carol could do was think, and try to figure out what was going through Zosia’s mind. She was sitting back in her seat rather dejected, staring out the window and watching the buildings pass by. It was like she was a stranger. A terrible thought started to trickle through the worst corners of Carol’s brain. Perhaps Zosia had made up her mind. Perhaps she came to her senses and realized she was wasting her time in Albuquerque.

She must have come back for Rudy. One of Zosia’s real friends had been looking after him, since Carol was too angry to agree to the favor at the time of her departure. Zosia wasn’t going to abandon her lovable cat, but Carol was a different story. Zosia must have been preparing to close this chapter of life. To put in her resignation at work, pack up her belongings, and say goodbye to her real friends.

She felt like a complete fool. Zosia had used her to fulfill some need of hers, just like how Carol had used Laxmi. A break from the loneliness. This was all just Zosia’s version of a bender, and now she was sobering up and going back home.

Carol gripped the steering wheel tighter, letting out a shallow breath as she turned onto Zosia’s street. She wanted to say something to cut through the heavy quiet, but her words caught in her throat. She parked over the faint tire marks in her usual spot and kept her eyes forward, waiting for Zosia to say something. Anything.

“Can you come up so we can talk?” Zosia finally relented, turning to her. For once, she didn’t force a smile to lessen the tension. If anything, she looked so nervous like she was about to throw up. “Please?”

Apologies were easy, but the truth was what she needed. Some clarity, some honesty, and some insight into what they were doing. What they meant to each other now. All of the answers awaited her in Zosia’s apartment, so up they went. Carol helped drag her luggage up the stairs and inside. The natural aroma of Zosia’s place brought back waves of memories. The crime scene in the living room, Thai food and soap operas, intimacy buried in sheets of lavender. She missed how welcoming it had once felt. She didn’t want to say goodbye.

Carol closed the door, sealing off her own escape route. She closed her eyes, willing herself to speak her mind. “I already know where this is going, so I’ll save you the breath. I don’t need to hear any excuses, or apologies, or anything that you think I want to hear. I just… I just have to know if… if any of it was real.”

She waited, heart pounding against her ribs, but there was no reply. Just the loud rustling of fabric and shuffling of paper. Carol’s eyes fluttered open, and Zosia was furiously digging through her bags. Just before Carol could question it, a stack of papers were thrusted into her hands. She turned them the right way around, but all of the writing was in Polish.

“What the hell is this?”

“My divorce agreement.”

Carol slowly lifted her head, her pulse arrested and breaths stilled. Her disbelief must have been obvious, because Zosia took the papers back and shuffled them around before returning them to Carol’s motionless fingers.

“I went ahead and translated it all into English for you, so you could read it yourself.”

Carol skimmed over the document. Up at the top in big, bold letters, Zosia was found at fault for the breakdown of the marriage with ‘adultery’ listed as her transgression. Below it, a brief mention of her trip to South America, and her sexual relationship with an American college professor. Towards the back, there was a whole section designated to the splitting of assets. Zosia walked away with just the clothes on her back.

“He got everything…” Carol finally looked up at the defeated woman in front of her. “I mean, are you ok with this?”

She nodded solemnly. “The house was his anyway. I don’t care for the money or the belongings. I did get to keep the cat though.” There was a flicker of a smile on her lips, but it was quickly extinguished. “Stefan, he’s… taking it about as well as he can. Things still need to be finalized by the court, but it’s pretty much official.”

Carol slowly lowered the papers, still processing it all. “How are your folks taking it?”

Zosia’s expression fell. “Not well. Stefan was like a son to them, so naturally they had quite a few things to say about it. Of course, they asked why Stefan and I couldn’t just make things work. And… and I didn’t want to lie anymore.” She took a steadying breath, then met Carol’s eyes. “I told my mother about us.”

“You…” Carol’s voice trailed off. It hit her like a ton of bricks. Zosia had done something Carol herself was always too chickenshit to do. Her authentic self was an enigma to her estranged family, yet Zosia took it head on, all alone. It was clear from her tight lips and tears welling in her eyes that there wasn’t a happy ending to this story, yet Carol couldn’t help but ask. “How’d she take it?”

All she could do was shake her head.

The distance between them became unbearable. Zosia was broken and beaten emotionally. It only just occurred to Carol that this wasn’t anywhere near a pleasant trip to her home country. Stefan and her family were done with her. She had to have been suffering alone the whole time. Not a shoulder to cry on, or friend to confide in. All of her grief was palpable, and Carol couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

She threw the papers to the ground and pulled Zosia into an embrace. Carol squeezed her tight, wringing out all those tears she had been holding back. She was done with needing space. In that moment, what she needed was Zosia to feel like someone loved her. The real her. And Carol loved every single part of her. Even the ugly parts.

Zosia’s fingers dug into Carol’s back as she clutched her tight, and her shoulders trembled as all of those bottled emotions came uncorked. They stayed there a moment, letting everything bleed out into the room.

“You should have called me,” Carol scolded.

“You were upset with me – “

“That doesn’t matter.” Carol leaned back catching those wet doe eyes and making her point clear. “You shouldn’t have to handle that alone. Whether we’re fighting or not, I still care about you.”

Zosia let her gaze fall to the side, willing her breathing to slow as she nodded. “And I appreciate that, Carol. I really do. But this was something I needed to do for myself. I needed to prove that I can be honest, even when the truth turns people against me. Hiding things only makes it hurt worse in the end. You taught me that just before I left. I’m a fast learner, Professor Sturka.” She tried to throw on a smile, but it didn’t stay long. “I want to make all of this up to you, Carol. I don’t care how long it takes, and I don’t care if it hurts people’s feelings. You were vulnerable, and I didn’t give you the reassurance you needed. So, from now on, you can expect nothing but honesty from me.” She stroked Carol’s hair out of her face, palm holding her cheek. There was an intensity behind her words that reached deep. “I love you more than anything, Carol.”

It was everything she had been wanting to hear, and this time, every ounce of it felt genuine. She leaned into the touch she had been so desperately craving, reassuring herself, desperate to believe it this time. Zosia was real. All of this was real.

“Since we’re being honest,” Carol muttered. “I should tell you that I was… in a bad spot when you left.”

“I know,” Zosia sighed. “Koumba told me everything.”

Her heart sunk as she pulled back. “Everything? Everything, everything? W-What kind of everything did he tell you?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sorry Carol – “

“Did he tell you…” she forced herself to take a breath as she stood back, hands neatly folded. “What exactly did he tell you?”

Zosia shifted her weight, recalling her conversation. “Well, he called me yesterday to ask about my mother’s health… then, he told me about your impulsive trip to Vegas.”

Carol cursed Koumba under her breath, instantly regretting sharing anything with him. She had spilled about her kiss with Laxmi to him over their continental breakfast the next morning. Naturally, Koumba was a little bitter. Between Manousos’s big win at the casino and even bigger smile the morning after, it seemed like Koumba was the only one not getting lucky in Vegas. His bitterness aside, Carol was the one who wanted to break the news to Zosia.

“Of course he did…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, jumping into damage control. “I was going to tell you. Look, it didn’t mean anything. I was really drunk, and lonely, and she’s not even into women like that, so – “

“Wait, what are you talking about? Who’s ‘she’?” Zosia clutched her chest, and her eyes were wild. “Did you sleep with someone?”

“I – What? No, no.” Carol furrowed her brow. “He – he didn’t tell you about Laxmi?”

“He told me you went to Vegas to gamble and drink yourself to death. Who is Laxmi?”

There was a sharpness in Zosia’s tone; one Carol hadn’t expected. If she hadn’t known the mild-mannered professor any better, she would have thought it was envy.

“She was just some woman at a bar,” Carol explained. “I was really drunk, and I kissed her. Like I said, she wasn’t into it, so nothing happened.”

Zosia crossed her arms. “But if she was into it, something would have happened?”

“No…” Carol blinked a few times, completely dumbfounded. She tilted her head, almost challenging her. “Are you jealous?”

Zosia ran a quick hand through her tangle of hair, uncharacteristically agitated. She paced, mumbling something under her breath in Polish that Carol couldn’t quite make out. She was about to make a snide remark when Zosia stopped in front of her, eyes wide and filled with an emotion Carol couldn’t name. It almost scared her a little.

“Alright. I promised you honesty, so here it is,” Zosia said pointedly. She held up her hand, counting off qualms on her fingers. “I hate it when you drink, I hate it when you blow up at the smallest things, I hate that you feel the need to hide your sexuality because you’re scared at what others might think, I hate that you force yourself to be more feminine when you know that isn’t who you are – ”

Carol shivered when a puff of Zosia’s sweet breath wafted over her face. She was mere inches away now. Her eyes flicked down to Zosia’s heaving chest and trembling hands. Carol watched as those hands tentatively moved up towards her face, waiting for any resistance. When she was met with none, Zosia gently cupped Carol’s cheeks, swirling a calloused thumb over her. It took everything in her to not melt at the warm touch as she looked up to meet the eyes of the woman that would surely be her downfall.

Carol’s breath caught. Her gaze was enrapturing.

“And I hate the fact that you kissed someone else because you’re mine.”

Mine.

It stuck out like a sore thumb. Carol replayed it in her mind.

Mine.

Zosia’s posture softened ever so slightly as she took a small step back to gather herself. “We are both far from perfect. And I don’t want you to be. In fact, that’s one of the things that I love about you. But I also don’t want you getting drunk in Vegas and pretending I don’t exist.”

“Trust me, you were impossible to forget.” She let out a sharp, wry exhale. “In my defense, I really didn’t feel like I was yours at the time.”

“And I’m going to change that.” Zosia nodded. The accusatory edge to her voice had ebbed, and the green under her skin had faded. She reached down for Carol’s hand. “I’ll be yours. Only yours.”

Just like with everything surrounding her relationship with Zosia, it sounded too good to be true. Carol wanted to take it at face value, but it wasn’t in her nature. That last little seed of doubt was impossible to pluck out. Carol gave her hand a squeeze, lowering her guard by nothing but a fraction. “I want to believe it…”

Zosia didn’t hesitate in the slightest.

“I’ll make you believe it.”

Chapter Text

Try as she might, Carol’s mind kept wandering back to everything Zosia had said. The things she hated. The things she loved. The way her voice had deepened, as her breath grew hot and agitated.

Mine.

She perched right at the edge of the couch, leg bouncing and thoughts racing. The sound of the shower running down the hall was deafened by her heart pounding in her ears. Zosia had been acting different since she came back just an hour ago. She wasn’t forcing smiles, and she didn’t shut down at the possibility of losing her temper. It felt more raw than ever before. More human. Her display of jealousy over Laxmi was something that would have been incredibly foreign just a couple of weeks ago. Zosia didn’t want another woman touching Carol. Touching something that was hers.

Mine.

It was impossible to deny the way it riled her up. The way Zosia claimed her like an object just fed right into Carol’s incessant need to feel desired. It reminded her of the way Zosia had reduced her to a babbling, blubbering mess that night they took things all the way. That night when she was nothing but putty in her hands, begging to be fucked.

Mine.

Carol’s body had a better idea of how to react than her mind did to the whirlwind of conflicting emotions. This past week without Zosia left her desperate and shaking like an addict. Less than an hour in Zosia’s presence, and she was just itching to jump back in the deep end with her.

An anxious attachment, combined with a fear of intimacy. That was how Helen had described Carol’s emotional issues from her armchair psychology perspective. Personally, Carol had sworn off any sort of therapy since Camp Freedom Falls, so whatever was wrong with her was just going to stay that way. Still, she couldn’t control the undeniable heat building between her thighs as her mind kept drifting back to Zosia’s touch, and moreover, her words.

Mine.

“Carol?”

Her head shot up. Zosia was stood in the hallway, hair dripping and a towel wrapped around her damp body, leaving little to the imagination. How long had she been standing there? Carol hadn’t even heard the water turn off.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you needed to clean up at all.”

She shook her head, and Zosia disappeared down the hallway once more. After her promise to make things up, Zosia suggested a trip somewhere special. But alas, the destination was a surprise. It certainly wasn’t lessening her anxiety. But Zosia wanted to rebuild that trust, so Carol reluctantly agreed.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she thanked whoever it was for the much needed distraction. Upon seeing it was Koumba, she quickly retracted her gratitude. She didn’t forget about him breaking the news about her bender. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

Mon, Dec 29 at 10:02 AM
McBoner: hey did she make it in OK?
Carol: fuck u
McBoner: ???
McBoner: what did I do this time?
Carol: you told her about vegas
McBoner: oh yeah… so you two have talked? How’d that go?
McBoner: are you still typing?
McBoner: take your time grandma
Carol: its still going. a lot of shit went down in Poland & i told her about laxmi so things r weird. i can call u later.
Carol: grandma? fuck u im not telling u anything
McBoner: je t'aime mamie <3 we’ll talk later

Zosia traipsed back out of the hall, dressed in something much nicer than her layover outfit of sweats. Her hair was dried and curled, and the bags under her eyes were muted with a thin layer of makeup. “Ready to go?”

Carol was up and out of her seat in an instant. “Yes please.”

Even though she drove them, Carol still wasn’t privy to the destination. She was told when to turn, when to change lanes, when to stop. As she shifted into park, she thought for sure she was imagining things. They were right outside her favorite diner, Lauchlin’s.

Carol’s mouth hung open as she looked to Zosia, who only offered a coy smile in return. It was implausible – no, impossible – that it was even there. Last she recalled, the place had shut down. Carol hopped out, getting a better look. She walked inside, certain that the façade would end there, but it didn’t. There were small differences here and there, but ultimately, it looked exactly how she remembered it. The pies on the counter, the worn leather booths, and smell of frying bacon were all so nostalgic. It was like she was teleported back in time to when she was trying to catch her big break as a young writer.

Carol stalked up to an unoccupied booth and sunk into the seat, still in utter disbelief. Zosia sat right across from her, a smile plastered across her face.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Zosia prompted.

“Well, um, shocked for one… it all started here.” She let out a sharp exhale, chucking to herself as she glanced around. “I used to write longhand on yellow legal pads that… I stole from my temp job.” She snorted, talking with her hands. “I had like twenty of them, and I’d have to go back and forth, scratch stuff out. The whole time I’m just dreaming of saving up enough money to buy a laptop.”

She glanced up, and Zosia was just staring at her like she hung the moon. Her stomach did a flip, and Carol faltered ever so slightly, stammering as she continued. “And then, I’d rip the pages out, clip them all together with this giant metal clip… which I also stole…”

Zosia let out a soft chuckle, coaxing more out of Carol as well.

“…which took both hands to pry it open just enough that I could add a single page.” She displayed the heels of her hands. “It would give me huge dents in my palms. The whole thing was a fucking nightmare…” She stared off wistfully a moment longer, living in the fond memory. “This place was my escape… I was devastated when it burned down…”

The realization his her all at once as she struggled to grasp how everything had aligned. “Wait – when did all of this… I don’t get it, did you rebuild it yourself or something?”

Zosia laughed at the ridiculous notion. “That would be something, wouldn’t it? The owner’s son built it from the ground up. They reopened just a couple of weeks ago.”

A waitress swung by, overturning a couple of mugs and filling them up for the women. She told them to take their time as she left them each with a menu. Carol clutched her mug and let that familiar warmth fill her palms. Zosia followed suit, blissfully enchanted.

Carol accepted that she wasn’t dreaming, and a more pressing question popped up in her mind. “How’d you know I used to come here? I mean, Christ that was what? Ten? Fifteen years ago? I’m sure I’ve never mentioned it.”

Zosia shrugged. “Isn’t it more fun if it’s a mystery?”

“No,” Carol quickly retorted. “It’s freaking me out, actually.”

She relented, taking a sip of her coffee before revealing her secrets. “Good Housekeeping, April of 2016.”

The answer only left her more confused, which must have been evident, as Zosia explained further.

“You did an interview for Good Housekeeping in 2016 about your Wycaro novel. They asked you about your inspirations, when to expect a sequel, and most importantly, what your best day writing was. You talked about Lauchlin’s, those yellow legal pads, and the bottomless cups of coffee just how you liked them.” Zosia snagged a couple of sugar packets. She ripped the tops and dumped them into Carol’s mug. “Two sugars, boiling hot.”

Carol blinked a few times. She didn’t remember the interview, yet Zosia had it memorized down to her coffee order. “Huh… that’s… romantic.”

Zosia laughed, adding a few sugars to her drink as well.

“No, really,” Carol continued, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s incredible, it’s just… Who just digs up some old interview like that? It’s like you’re obsessed with me or something.”

“Or something…” Zosia murmured, her gaze unyielding over the rim of her mug.

A chill ran down her spine, and Carol forced herself to look away before she started having flashbacks to when she was writhing beneath her.

Zosia lowered her mug and fiddled with the empty sugar packets. “I was planning on taking you here that morning. The morning after we…” She let the silence speak to the things they did. “But then he came and ruined everything… well, I ruined everything.”

Carol sucked on her lips. “I think it’s more complicated than that.”

“I don’t want things between us to be complicated,” she glanced around the sparsely populated diner, then leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I want to commit to you, Carol. That’s why, that morning, I was going to take you here and ask you if we could make things between us exclusive. Official.”

Carol let the words settle between them like dust in a sunbeam. Her heart thudded faster, both at the confession and the wavering of Zosia's voice. She wanted to take things to the next level. To put a label on this dynamic that haunted Carol day and night. Zosia wanted Carol to be hers and only hers.

“You were really going to ask me?” Carol whispered, her voice barely louder than the ambient hum of the diner.

She nodded. “I was. I wanted to start something real with you. I still do, if you’ll let me.” The uncertainty in her tone was uncharacteristic.

This wasn’t about Stefan. It never was. This was about vulnerability, trust, and the need to feel uniquely loved. Zosia wasn’t perfect, but she tried so hard to be. The perfect wife, the perfect daughter, and the perfect partner for Carol. It would be a tall order for anyone, even the people pleasing polyglot. Stretched impossibly thin, and failing in every facet, Zosia was losing herself.

But Carol was getting to see Zosia for who she really was. A flawed individual with her own struggles and shortcomings. She was a deeply complex human, and it only made Carol fall in love with her more. She was finally being authentic, and that was worth more than any romantic gesture.

“So, ask me,” Carol uttered.

Zosia quirked her brow, not fully grasping the request. Carol reached across the table, her hand brushing Zosia’s knuckles gently. She repeated herself with an encouraging nod.

“Ask me.”

Her eyes widened at the blatant display of affection in public, and at the realization of what Carol desired. So, she asked her.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

-------------------------------

The urgent, sweltering kisses didn’t stop as their grocery bags fell to the floor, scattering their dinner ingredients. Carol pressed her body closer, hand crushed between their heaving chests as she desperately cupped Zosia’s breast. She wanted to taste the back of her throat – swallow her whole if she could – she just couldn’t get close enough. A week without Zosia had been like a week without air.

Carol had been desperate to kiss her since their conversation at the diner, so naturally, she jumped Zosia the minute they got back. She matched Carol’s intensity, not an ounce more or a drop less. Her tongue swept against Carol’s bottom lip, and her hands took either side of her face, encompassing her and drawing her closer. It seemed Carol wasn’t the only one desperate to reconnect. A groan rumbled in Zosia’s throat as she stumbled backwards from Carol’s force, and she searched for something to brace against.

The hot, wet, sloppy kisses came to an abrupt halt as she bumped a picture frame off an end table, shattering it on the floor. They both froze, panting and tangled.

“S-Sorry,” Carol mumbled, her cheeks flushing. “I can clean it up.”

“It’s fine, it was an accident.” Zosia let out an airy laugh, releasing Carol from her grip. “I should probably get started on the borscht anyway.”

“Maybe we could, um…” Carol was still a little light headed from the kisses and stumbled over her words. It didn’t help that Zosia was giving her bedroom eyes either. “Maybe we could continue this after dinner? You know… consummate our new relationship?”

A smirk slowly spread across her face. “Well I would love the opportunity to show you just how much I appreciate your forgiveness.” She looked her up and down. “Dinner first. Then you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down Carol’s spine and excited something deep in her core. She was secretly hoping Zosia would just say ‘fuck dinner’ and fuck her instead. But Zosia took to collecting their ingredients while Carol begrudgingly kneeled down, gently picking up the shards of glass. Her mind was racing with all the possibilities of what Zosia might do. Take what was hers, bring Carol to tears again, and claim her so possessively.

Mine.

She just had to get borscht blocked. To be fair, Carol was the one who had suggested learning the traditional dish, so really, she did it to herself. She thought it might be a nice way to reconnect after everything that had happened, but she was having a far better time connecting her hand to Zosia’s breast. Carol reminded herself that they had a whole week until classes started back up. There’d be plenty of time to explore all of those things which had been awoken.

With most of the glass resting gingerly in her palm, Carol picked up the picture frame and turned it over. She had noticed the photo in passing, but had never looked at it very closely. Several women in flashy clothing sat on a couch all hugging and smiling for the camera, and a couple of shirtless guys were leaning into the frame. Zosia was in the middle, her hair was much shorter, her features slightly more rounded, and she had a few piercings that were now absent. She had an arm thrown around the women on either side of her, and a blissful smile with glassy eyes. Everyone was incredibly sweaty.

“What’s the story here?” Carol asked as she paced to the kitchen and dumped the glass into the trash.

Zosia had already started chopping the vegetables, but she paused to give the photo a glance. She smiled as fond memories came flooding back. “That was Berlin, around… 2003 I think?” She chuckled, turning back to her beets. “I was trying just about anything back then…”

Carol leaned against the counter, mind racing as she watched her chop. “Like what?”

“Men, women, ecstasy, speed…” Zosia shrugged, as if she were discussing something as dull as the weather. “There was a lot more than just dancing in the clubs. From what parts I can remember it was quite a lot of fun.”

Carol hummed, glancing over the photo again. Zosia was very clearly high out of her mind. There was a pit in Carol’s stomach at the thought of her being so inebriated around so many strangers. “German sex parties… were those… safe?”

Zosia gave her a sideways glance, half amused. “Are you my mother?”

“No, no, it’s just… you were really young, and there’s a lot of creeps out there. I mean, God forbid if something happened to you.”

Zosia held it back for a moment before cracking up. Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep herself from laughing right in her face.

Carol sat the photo down and put a hand on her hip. “What? Things can happen…”

Zosia took a breath and gained her composure. She placed a hand on Carol’s shoulder reassuringly. “I know, I know. But… I was the one hosting the parties. Sure, I would lend a hand from time to time, but usually they’d perform acts for me while I sat back and watched. I discovered a lot about myself back then… mostly that I prefer to be in control.” Her hot breath rolled down Carol’s face, kissing at her lips.

“Oh…” Carol felt a throb deep down as she pictured Zosia directing her little army of tramps. It all made sense with the way she had conducted herself when Carol was below her. Zosia got off on the sights and the sounds, the way she writhed and squirmed and begged. She got off on controlling. On taking what belonged to her.

Mine.

“Hello?” Zosia was waving her hand in front of her face, brow furrowed.

Carol snapped out of her trance. “Huh?”

“I asked if you could start boiling the water. These beets need to go for at least 30 minutes.”

Carol faintly nodded, getting to the task at hand. Borscht blocked once again. Her need was starting to become overwhelming, yet Zosia seemed completely unfazed. Carol wasn’t even that hungry. Not for beets anyway. She sat the pot on the burner and cranked up the heat. Ultimately, she decided that was what she needed to do with Zosia as well. Carol needed makeup sex like crack.

She traipsed her fingers along the counter until she ran into Zosia’s hand, still clutching a knife as she chopped. Carol caught her by the wrist, urging her to cease, as her other hand snaked up her hip, giving her a firm squeeze. Carol buried her face in the crook of her neck, body flush against her back.

“How about we cook afterwards,” Carol said, dragging her nails up her arm.

The temperature was rising between their melded bodies. God, Carol could have done it right there on the counter. On the floor, even.

“I think we need to have a rather serious conversation before we take things any further,” Zosia said.

It was about the least sexy thing she could have said. Carol thought she might have crossed some kind of line, so she tentatively released, taking a step back. Zosia sat down her knife, wiping her hands on the rag hanging over her shoulder. She turned to face Carol, arms crossed and smile absent.

“I was hoping we could have discussed this over dinner, but I can’t blame you for being so eager. We need to discuss boundaries, limits, turn ons, turn offs, things of that nature. The last thing I want to do is push you too far and break your trust while I’m still earning it back.”

Carol’s guard lowered as she realized she hadn’t completely ruined her chances of getting laid. A nervous chuckle escaped her throat. “That’s all? I guess… I don’t really have any boundaries. And nothing you’ve done has turned me off, so I think we’re all good. Full steam ahead.” Carol pantomimed a steam whistle, toot and all.

Zosia let out a heavy sigh, getting comfortable in her slouch against the counter. “Carol, are you familiar with BDSM?”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I’m aware of it. I mean, I’ve written plenty of scenes between Lucasia and Raban. You’ve read them.”

The implication hit right as the words left her mouth. Zosia had read all of those swashbuckling romps below deck, and tangles of rope around Lucasia’s bed posts. She had gotten over the embarrassment of writing intimacy a while ago, but for some reason, her cheeks grew hot in that moment.

Zosia hummed. “Yes, I’ve read them. I personally would consider them to be a bit vanilla.”

“Vanilla? Even the part where Lucasia… pleasures herself with Raban’s scabbard?” She cursed herself for the way her voice cracked.

She tilted her head. “Have you yourself ever done anything… more intense?”

Carol twiddled her fingers, finding it difficult to meet Zosia’s eyes. “I’ve done handcuffs… and a little spanking…”

“Handcuffs and spanking,” Zosia echoed. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I mean… yeah… the spanking was actually kind of nice…”

Zosia hummed. “Well, it’s a good starting point.”

Carol tried desperately to read her expression, but Zosia wasn’t giving the slightest indication into her thoughts. All Carol could do was use humor to settle her nerves. “A good starting point? You make it sound like you’ve got some crazy stuff planned. Like you want to put me in a shock collar and shove your whole fist up there.” She chuckled.

Zosia didn’t laugh.

The smile slowly faded from Carol’s face. She swallowed hard. There was that dark look behind Zosia’s eyes again. It both terrified and excited her.

“I’m not trying to scare you off.” Zosia held up her hands in a placating display, eyes softening once more. “Just like before, this is all at your own pace, Carol. I’d never do anything extreme or painful without your consent. I get the most pleasure out of you enjoying yourself, so if the farthest we ever take things is handcuffs and spanking, I can live with that. There’s no pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Carol gave it a moment of thought. She certainly wanted to explore the suggestable state Zosia had lulled her into the last time they were intimate. She could only equate it to drunken sex when she was only partially aware of what she was doing and feeling. Except, with Zosia, every nerve of her body was fully engaged. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She had been craving it.

“You’re not getting me in a shock collar,” she prefaced.

Zosia’s easy smile returned. “You have my word.”

Carol nodded, collecting her thoughts. She had questions for sure, but she didn’t quite know where to start. She figured it’d be best for Zosia to lead. “I’m interested in… exploring some of those things. I guess I just don’t know what my boundaries are. What about you? What are your boundaries?”

The question was clearly unexpected. “Mine? Well, I find suspension more trouble than it’s worth… branding is always iffy, you know? Anything permanent is… hmm… I did the whole fire play thing once – never again.” She trilled her lips, miming an explosion with her hands. “And I’m not a fan of sounding, but then again, I rarely find myself on the receiving end of those things anyway.”

Carol blinked a few times, almost embarrassed to admit to her ignorance. “I’m not even sure I know what half of those things are…”

Zosia’s lips slowly curled into a smirk. She stepped forward, entering Carol’s space. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes softening and tone brightening. “Handcuffs and spanking. Let’s start there.”

A loud pop came from the stove. Water bubbled over the edge of the pot, and Carol hurried over to cut the heat. A small part of her thought she should take it as a sign that she was in over her head, but Carol would be lying if she said some of it didn’t excite her. Especially if it meant Zosia pulled more earth-shattering orgasms out of her. There was something so enticing about being at her mercy. About being hers.

“We can finish cooking,” Carol concluded, bringing the pot to a tantalizing simmer. “But after that, I want you to teach me something less vanilla.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Domination and submission. It was an intimidating dynamic. They had discussed it briefly over dinner, about how Zosia preferred to dominate, and Carol was willing to give being submissive a chance. Honestly, she would have done just about anything that gorgeous woman wanted.

Carol always had a hard time relinquishing control. She valued her autonomy above all else, so giving herself over to someone – willingly no less – was certainly out of her comfort zone. Her trauma around conversion therapy most definitely fed into her apprehension as well. Those ‘therapy sessions’ they hammered into her still reared their ugly head from time to time, no matter how long ago it was. She just prayed none of it would bleed through while she was at Zosia’s mercy.

When Carol thought about domination, it was never someone like Zosia that came to mind. The mild-mannered professor with a gentle touch and a soft voice. The term ‘domination’ brought about images of men slapping women and calling them whores or sluts. Using women for their own pleasure, forcing them into painful positions with rough hands. It certainly wasn’t something she found herself desiring. She found it rather hard to believe Zosia was capable of such things, but then again, Zosia had subverted expectations time and time again.

Carol wasn’t sure what all was in store for her that evening as she followed Zosia to the bedroom. But she wanted to give it a shot. Clearly, Zosia wasn’t satisfied by a little fingering under the covers like Carol had grown accustomed to. And maybe Carol wanted to expand her horizons as well. Surely it wouldn’t be as great as her German sex parties, but Carol would at least give it a shot.

Zosia sat at the edge of the bed and beckoned her over with a gentle pat of the mattress. She sat beside her, willing away any anxiety that threatened to rise. Zosia stroked her hair, encouraging her to take some breaths.

“We can skip the BDSM aspect if you’re nervous.”

Carol shook her head. “No, I want to. I just… I guess I don’t know what to expect.”

Zosia hummed, searching her eyes. “As the submissive in this scenario, you can expect me to take care of you. I will never make you uncomfortable if I can help it. This is all about your pleasure, and I will do everything in my power to make you feel good.”

It was a relief, yet it raised more questions. Carol furrowed her brow.

“What is it?” Zosia pried.

“Well… I guess I just thought that the dominant person was the one getting off. I mean, that’s the whole point, right?”

“Not in the slightest.” She stroked along Carol’s cheekbone and down to her jaw, her eyes following suit. “I would never do these things to you if you didn’t enjoy them. Even if you’re the only one who finishes, your pleasure is my priority.”

Carol scoffed. “I just don’t see how that gets you off.”

A small chuckle slipped out. “Trust me, it gets me off. If I can make you happy, then I’m over the moon.”

Carol thought to argue the point further and suggest a sexual position for their mutual benefit, but she held back. She needed to trust Zosia and let her lead. She was the expert in the field after all. So, Carol held her tongue and accepted her words at face value, in spite of her doubt.

“Did you want to try something new?” Zosia asked, tilting her head with a cockeyed smile. “I have a feeling you’re really going to like it.”

Carol shrugged. “I’ll try anything once.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Zosia went to her dresser. Carol had seen her dig clothing out of the top two drawers dozens of times. But now, she reached for the second drawer from the bottom. She slid it open and rummaged around, metal clinking and wood clunking. Carol craned her neck, but she couldn’t quite see the contents that were making all that racket. Zosia retrieved a leather wrapped handle with long strips of leather trailing down in a cascade of tresses. She returned to her seat on the bed, and handed over the object so Carol could investigate it closer.

“Do you know what this is?” Zosia asked.

Carol combed her fingers through the tresses. “Yeah, a whip. I’ve seen them before.” She raised a brow. “And you’re going to use this on me?”

“If you’d like.” She gently took the handle from Carol’s grasp. “Floggers come in a lot of different forms. This is one of the more gentle ones.”

She took Carol by the wrist and turned her palm up. Slowly, she traipsed the tendrils up and down Carol’s forearm, making her shiver. It tickled more than anything.

“It can be used like a whip if that’s something you desire.” Zosia flicked her wrist, gently slapping the tresses against Carol’s palm. “And I can always go harder upon request.” She winked.

Her heart skipped a beat at the soft slap of the leather. It sent a shockwave down to the desperate heat between her legs. God, she was pathetic. Carol nodded fervently, practically shaking out of anticipation. “Yeah, let’s use this.”

“Excellent. Do you want to – “

She couldn’t stand waiting another moment for her fix. Carol lurched forward, pressing their lips together. She devoured Zosia, hungry and impatient. Tongues swirled, teeth clacked, and hands started to wander on their own accord. She would take her any way she could get her. On the bed, in shackles, at the mercy of whips and chains, anything Zosia could ever want. Carol kissed her harder, ignoring the fact that she was starting to get dizzy.

Zosia dropped the flogger to her lap and pressed her palm to Carol’s chest, urging her to ease off. “Slow,” she warned. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

It was like she could read her mind or something. Carol forced herself to take a deep breath before she kissed her again. Slower. Deeper. That was better. She was more aware of the swipe of Zosia’s tongue and the push and pull that just drew her in further. A subtle moan slipped out between breaths, and Zosia answered with a nip at her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but Zosia was now the one in control of the hot and needy make out session. A hand on Carol’s thigh, holding her steady, and another at the nape of her neck coaxing her to bend to Zosia’s whim.

She kissed her way to the corner of Carol’s mouth, then across her cheek and over to her burning ear. “Stand up for me.”

Carol had been waiting for it to start, for Zosia to take over and dominate her. In her kiss-drunk state, it had taken her a while to realize that it all started the moment they walked in the room. Because Carol didn’t put up a fight. She was already obeying before Zosia even finished her sentence.

Zosia hooked a finger around Carol’s waistband, pulling her between her knees. She trailed up her abdomen, feeling her tepid skin beneath her shirt. Carol twitched at even the slightest graze of Zosia’s fingers.

“You give yourself away, you know?” She smiled, hands moving to unbutton her jeans. “I’ve hardly touched you and you’re shaking.”

Carol swallowed hard as she shimmied the tight denim down past her knees. “Yeah well, when you’ve got an absolute smoke show staring at you with ‘fuck me’ eyes, it’s hard not to get a little excited.”

Zosia brought her pants all the way to the floor, then dragged her fingers back up her legs nice and slow. She trailed to Carol’s ass, firmly cupping her with each hand. She leaned forward, peppering kisses along her waistband and lower stomach. Carol felt the urge to take Zosia by the back of the head and show her exactly where to plant those kisses. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and tried to control herself. She needed it bad, but she wanted to trust the process. To trust Zosia again.

“Let’s have you lay across my lap so we can get you taken care of, hm?” Zosia said with the tilt of her head.

Finally. Carol kicked her jeans to the side, and clambered back up onto the bed. Zosia scooted back, making ample room for Carol to spread out on her lap. She pulled up some pillows to support her limbs, and tucked one beneath Carol’s head.

“Comfortable?” Zosia asked.

Carol settled in with her face nestled in the pillows and her ass at her mercy. “Very.”

The familiar sensation of the flogger trailed up her thigh, drifted over her underwear, then moved back down her other leg. She kept it up, working in an elliptical motion, causing Carol to twitch and squirm even more. It felt nice, but she was craving something more intense. Something to ease the unbearable tension.

“Fun fact…”

Jesus Christ, really? Right now?

“…the brain is the largest sex organ. Humans are quite unique in that way. Anticipation, role playing, dirty talk… your mind is more powerful than any physical stimulation.”

Carol let out a snort. “I beg to differ.”

Zosia didn’t skip a beat. “Yet when I requested some manners, you were begging me to fuck you rather politely.”

Carol sucked on her lips and buried her blushing cheeks in the pillows. She knew just how to get to her. Not to mention there was something particularly delicious about hearing her curse.

Zosia hummed, still drawing circles over her hindquarters. “I’m glad I was right about you…”

“About what?” Her voice was muffled in the pillows.

“About you being a challenge.” She flicked her wrist, gently patting the tresses against Carol’s ass. “You’re a bit of a brat.”

She felt a jolt of pleasure at the smack. But as the words processed, she sat up on her elbows and glanced over her shoulder, offended at the accusation. “A brat? I’m not a brat, I’m… I’m stubborn, sure. And sometimes I’ve got a sarcastic comment or two, but – but a brat?”

Zosia was clearly amused at her attempt to deny the very undeniable claim. “It’s ok, Carol. It’s not a bad thing.”

Carol wasn’t sure she followed. Even if it was a playful insult, she couldn’t see how being an alleged brat was a good thing. Her annoyance was quickly remedied with Zosia’s spare hand massaging its way up her spine, and her fingers tangling in her hair. She gently yet firmly pressed Carol’s face back down into the pillows. Her compliance was rewarded with an assuring pat.

“You like being good for me, don’t you?” She asked, still tracing circles with the flogger.

It was embarrassingly true. Zosia’s praise had always done things to her she didn’t quite understand. When those affirmations popped up in the bedroom, it only made Carol’s heart race, and the need between her legs unbearable. So, she hummed in agreement. She enjoyed making her proud.

“I could tell,” Zosia continued. “I like it when you’re good for me too. When you listen. When you behave.” She gave another gentle thwack.

Carol had a flashback to the last time Zosia had told her to behave. When there was a rat in their classroom, and Koumba was mocking Carol for her lack of Spanish. She snapped right back at him, but Zosia stopped her from acting out. She told her to behave, her voice low and suggestive. It all clicked right then, as she was met with yet another spank on the ass. She had been a brat back then, and Zosia had taken pleasure in setting her straight.

Carol had been playing into her hand this whole time. Just a pawn in a game of chess, far too close to see the bigger picture. This dynamic between them started well before Zosia ever got her in bed. Carol started to spiral, questioning how much she had been influenced by her, but Zosia ceased her movements, garnering all of Carol’s attention.

“I want to try something with you,” she said. “I want to make you cum with just one finger.”

It was a tall order. One finger did little to fill her up. Not to mention that she needed some clitoral stimulation to get there anyway.

Carol turned her face to the side. “I – um, I usually need a bit more than that.”

“I don’t think you will.”

Carol tried to sit up more to counter her, but once again, Zosia urged her to lay down in the pillows.

“One finger. The rest will be up to our little friend here,” she gave her another pat on the ass with the flogger, “and my voice. Does that sound fair to you?”

Zosia did have quite a way with words, and that flogger was making her wetter than she cared to admit. She conceded and nodded into the pillows. Zosia turned Carol’s head to the side with a hand under her chin.

“Use your words. I like hearing you.”

“Y-Yeah, that sounds fair.”

Zosia hummed, not fully satisfied. “Can I get a ‘yes ma’am’?”

Even just the request shot a shockwave down to the needy heat between her legs. What the hell was Zosia awakening in her? Carol swallowed hard, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

“Yes ma’am. That sounds fair.”

“Much better,” she purred. The flogger returned, gently teasing, and Zosia checked in one last time. “Is there anything that you’ve disliked or anything that’s made you uncomfortable so far?”

She shook her head before quickly remembering Zosia’s request. “No ma’am. You can hit me harder with that too, you know? I don’t mind being roughed up a bit. Full steam ahead.”

“Let me know if it’s too much steam.” There was a smile behind her annoyance, and another smack of the flogger, slightly harder than before.

A grunt slipped out at the light sting on her ass. She had been spanked before, but it was more of an action performed in the heat of the moment. A little something special while face down in the mattress taking a few inches of silicone. It was quite different being laid out on Zosia’s lap with all of the focus on the disciplining action. Maybe there was a little bit of truth to what Zosia had said about the power of her mind, because there was no reason for the punishing leather to be exciting her that much.

Zosia hooked Carol’s briefs in the crook of her finger, effectively bunching them like a wedgie, and exposing more skin. The uncharted territory was swiftly met with the thwap of leather, and Carol jumped a little. As she relaxed back down, Zosia held the thin fabric tight, drastically increasing the pressure between her legs. Carol whimpered and squirmed as her prayers were answered. Finally, a little relief.

“You just can’t hold still, can you?” Zosia clicked her tongue. “Give it a try. Hold still for me.”

Thwack.

Carol jumped again. She hit her even harder that time, it was impossible not to squirm.

“Oh Carol…” The tresses tickled across her reddening cheeks. “I wasn’t asking. Hold. Still.”

Carol braced herself.

Thwack.

She didn’t jump that time. She did as she was told, then let out a shaky exhale as the sting dissipated into pleasure. The flogger was replaced with a warm hand kneading the roughed up flesh.

“There you go, good girl,” Zosia cooed. She gave her underwear another tug, rewarding her good behavior. “I knew you could do it. Now show me just how good you are at listening.”

The leather returned with another hard thwack. Carol gripped the pillow beneath her, but didn’t flinch. A low growl rumbled in her chest as she absorbed the sting, anxiously awaiting another strike. She took another, and then another, each strike interlaced with praise for her obedience and slight digs at her desperation.

“Look at you trying so hard to be good… aren’t you so proud of yourself?... let me hear how much you love it…”

The strikes no longer stung against her overworked flesh. Each whip was like a shock to her nether regions, and left her eagerly awaiting the next one. Combine that with Zosia’s smooth voice lulling her into submission, and Carol was in a completely different headspace. She let out the noises she had been suppressing, and it earned her a pleased hum from her attentive dom.

“Just like that,” Zosia gave her another tug. “Let it all out.”

“F-Fuck…” Carol mumbled.

There was another thwack against her ass, and despite being just as heavy as the others, it wasn’t enough this time. She needed more. So much more. She started to arch into the blows, desperate for Zosia to give in and hit her like she meant it. But instead of more intensity, the flogging came to a halt, and Carol whined out of frustration.

Zosia’s tone was grim. “Still.”

Carol sunk back down onto Zosia’s lap, grumbling into the pillows as she went. The action didn’t go unnoticed. Fingers raked up through her mess of hair, then clutched a handful. Zosia pulled her back out of the pillows, stern but not cruel.

“Did you have something to say?”

Carol swallowed hard. The gentle hair pulling and scolding was only adding to her desire. She struggled to form a coherent thought for a moment. It took immense concentration to say what she was thinking. “Harder. I want you to hit me harder, ma’am…” She caught Zosia’s eyes over her shoulder. “Please?”

Evidently she was a very good girl, because Zosia indulged her request with vigor. Even as Carol jumped at the new intensity, she wasn’t scolded, only given more delicious strikes to her bright red cheeks. Each swat was only making her more and more desperate. Carol arched back into it, letting all of her thoughts tumble out of her loose lips.

“Fuck… yes… harder… please…” Her request was granted. Even just the sound of the harsh contact was enough to make anyone flinch. Carol let out a squeak at the intense sting, but she didn’t yield. She wanted even more, but her mind was too foggy to even form a sentence. All she could do was stick her ass out and beg. “Please, please, please…”

Carol thought Zosia might appreciate her manners, but nothing could have prepared her for just how much she appreciated them. Carol was so lost in the act, she hadn’t even noticed that Zosia switched the flogger to her nondominant hand. The needy, wet heat that had accumulated between her legs was suddenly met with a breeze. She didn’t have time – nor the wherewithal – to question it before Zosia pressed inside.

Her eyes flew open as a jolt of pleasure shocked her system. Zosia reached inside with her slender finger, pressing in just the right spot. She curled up into her a few times, and Carol nearly collapsed. Another hard strike, followed by another delicious curl of her finger, and it was all over.

Carol’s whines reached a higher register as all of her muscles tensed. She buried her cries of pleasure into the pillows as Zosia fucked her over the edge and helped her ride out her high. Waves kept crashing into her over and over again until she finally fell into a senseless puddle on Zosia’s lap. Her knuckles were white from gripping the sheets, and her ass was cherry red.

Zosia slid out from her walls, still pulsing with aftershocks. She leaned down, peppering kisses all over the raised flesh, gently massaging the most tender areas. She was a little breathless and shaky too.

“You did amazing, Carol. Just relax. Take some deep breaths.”

She did as instructed. “Y-Yes ma’am…”

Zosia let out a muted laugh. “It’s ok, the scene is over. You can talk normally now.”

“Oh my fucking God,” she groaned, eager to share her senseless thoughts. “That was… wow… and then when you… Jesus… I can’t feel my ass…”

Zosia laughed a bit more liberally. She gently slid out from under her, careful not to rub her tender cheeks too hard. She gave Carol a quick peck on the forehead before slipping out to fetch a cool, wet towel and a bottle of red Gatorade.

Carol jumped at the sudden change in temperature, then let out a long exhale as the towel pulled the heat from her tepid skin. Zosia knelt beside the bed, brushing Carol’s hair from her face. She cracked open the bottle and held it up.

It took Carol a couple of tries to properly balance on her elbow. Once her shaky arms were steady enough, she accepted the cool drink. Carol smacked her lips, eyes narrowing at the bottle. “Since when do you like Gatorade?”

“I don’t. I just noticed some empty bottles in your car a few times, so I thought I’d keep some here for you. Red is your favorite, right?”

Carol slowly nodded, taking another sip. She hadn’t expected to find such profound affection reflected in a bottle of Gatorade. It was such a small act of romance, yet it touched her deeply. How odd it was to be considered at all.

Zosia searched her eyes. “How are you feeling? Was any of it too much?”

“No, no, I feel…” Carol took a moment to take stock of herself. “I feel very satisfied. That was… that was really fun.” She couldn’t help the smile spreading on her face.

Her grin was contagious. Zosia hopped up into bed, properly cuddling against her, and easing her out of that submissive state. Carol found herself trembling, and Zosia covered her lower half in a blanket, assuring her it was normal when coming down from a more intense scene.

“You keep calling it that,” Carol said from her reclined position. “A scene. Like we’re in a play or something.”

Zosia gave it a moment of thought. “I suppose, in a way, we are. We each play a role. The dominant and the submissive. I tell you what I want you to do, you choose whether or not you want to behave, and I react accordingly. I can be stern, but I can also be kind. Just like how you can be good or a brat.” She gave Carol a wink. “Emotions can run high, and it’s important to make sure we’re still connected afterwards. I want to make sure you know that your life is your own. Outside of the bedroom, I’m not your keeper. We’re just people who like to play these parts. It’s all for fun.”

Carol took another sip of her Gatorade as she pondered her words. She let herself relax, the warmth of Zosia’s body grounding her and bringing her back to reality. It was hard to believe that just that morning her anxiety had convinced her that Zosia was moving back to Poland. She started to think that perhaps she should get back on her anxiety meds.

“Do you feel rested?” Zosia asked, slowly scratching up and down Carol’s arm.

“My ass is a little tender, but yeah. I suppose so.”

“Good.” She sat up a bit more. “Because I’m just getting started with you.”

She all but choked on her drink. She coughed into her fist a few times. “Just getting started?”

“Yes?” Zosia stifled a laugh. “You didn’t think that was all we were doing, did you?”

Carol swallowed hard.

This woman was going to eat her alive.

------------------------------

“Comfortable?”

Carol gave the fuzzy cuffs above her head a little tug. “As comfortable as I can be.”

She should have expected to find herself stark naked with her wrists bound to the headboard. Handcuffs and spanking. Zosia had taken it as a to-do list rather than a shy admission. Carol was still a little floaty from her previous orgasm, and she had a feeling that whatever was coming was going to leave her completely spent.

She watched as Zosia stalked around the bed, still fully clothed. The power dynamic was palpable between them, yet Carol wasn’t as shy about her nudity as she had been the first time. Zosia’s eyes, with her hooded lids and amplified pupils, were paying her plenty of compliments. It gave Carol enough of an ego boost to speak up.

“Like what you see?”

“I love it,” Zosia purred. She crawled up on the bed, sitting on her knees between Carol’s spread ones. “I have to admit, I was a little too eager to get into things earlier, and I forgot something rather important. Vital, actually.”

“And what’s that?”

“A safe word.”

Carol let out a snort, but based on Zosia’s reaction, she quickly deduced that it wasn’t a laughing matter. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t see the point.”

“In case something gets too intense and we need to stop.” She absently drew circles on Carol’s leg, speaking very matter-of-factly. “I don’t play without one.”

“Can’t I just say ‘stop’? That seems a lot easier than trying to remember a special word.”

“’Stop’ can mean a lot of different things, Carol. It could mean ‘stop twisting my arm that way’, ‘stop, I’m feeling faint’, or ‘stop, I’m about to cum’… it’s…” She searched for the right adjective.

“Ambiguous?”

“Exactly,” she smiled. “Sometimes the scene might even involve using the word ‘stop’. So, the last thing I’d want to do is ignore you using the safe word.”

Carol hummed, getting a little impatient. “Alright, I get it. So I have to come up with some word?”

“You could.” Zosia shrugged. “Or we could just use the traffic light system. Green means good to keep going, yellow mean slow down and check in with one another, red means everything stops. Immediately. The scene is over.”

“Let’s do that,” she nodded.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“Huh?”

Zosia was rather serious. “Repeat the rules back to me. I need to know that you know them.”

“Red, full stop. Yellow, check in. Green, full steam ahead.”

“Good. And how are you feeling right now?”

Carol smirked, pantomiming a steam whistle with her bound hands once more, toot and all. Zosia was only mildly annoyed. She crawled over top of Carol, but instead of planting a kiss, she reached into her nightstand.

Carol’s heart pounded relentlessly as she wondered what new toy Zosia was going to pull out. She could imagine quite a few. Vibrators, dildos, clamps, and whips. But she had a feeling it was going to be something completely alien. Some strange device she picked up in Paris or Paraguay, destined to show Carol sensations she didn’t even know her body was capable of. She held her breath, preparing for the worst. Zosia crawled back to her place between Carol’s legs, clutching a small black ring.

It was a hair tie.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Carol asked with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity in her voice.

Zosia merely raised a brow as she reached her hands back and started tying up her hair. “I’m going to taste every inch of you.”

Carol gulped as she cinched her pony tight. Zosia leaned forward, kissing just below Carol’s navel. She glanced up, her lips brushing against her skin as she spoke.

“Is that ok with you, Professor Sturka?”

She nodded fervently. “Very ok.”

Zosia took her permission and ran with it. She flattened her tongue against Carol’s stomach, and ran one, long trail up her abdomen. Slowly, she drug her way up her sternum, then the column of her neck where her pulse raced like wildfire under Zosia’s tongue. She finally reached Carol’s burning ear, letting her lips pop right against it.

“Piękna,” she whispered, then licked up the cusp of Carols’ ear. “You’re beautiful.”

Despite being incredibly turned on, the compliment touched her heart more than her libido. There was just something about the simplicity of it, and the way Zosia had said it so straight. It felt less like sensual talk, and more like a fact. For a split second, Carol thought she was going to tear up, but she quickly willed it away.

She kissed her way across Carol’s cheeks, planting a smooch on each eyelid, the tip of her nose, and finally her mouth. It was slow and passionate. Carol tried to chase her lips as they drifted away, but her restraints kept her from following the bliss.

Zosia kissed her way back down her neck and across her shoulder. She licked up her bicep, punctuating her admiration with a peck at the precipice.

“Do you work out?” She asked.

Carol nearly forgot to answer. “Oh, y-yeah, a little.”

“I can tell.” The smile in her voice was obvious. “You have a splendiferous physique.”

Carol let out a snort, blushing at the compliment. She never thought much of her physique, let alone expected Zosia of all people to admire it. Of course, there had to be a bit of ridicule thrown in there for fun. “You’re never going to let go of that, are you?”

“No. You’re much too fun to tease.”

Her other side received the same amount of admiration from Zosia’s mouth. Anticipation started to build as she traced her way back over to Carol’s chest. She did a wide lap around the curve of her breast, slowly climbing to the peak. She stopped right at the top.

“I haven’t heard much out of you.”

“Oh, sorry,” she stammered. The kisses and licks had been erotic, but not nearly intense enough to draw a moan out of her.

“Tell me all about your turn ons. I want details. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Zosia waited patiently until Carol started.

“Um, well I enjoyed the spanking, as you know. I’m sure that says something about my childhood,” she quipped. Despite her sarcasm, she was rewarded with a swipe of the tongue across her nipple. She shuttered before continuing. “Kissing. Kissing is nice. Who doesn’t like kissing?”

Zosia continued to lap at her nipple. She sucked it up between her teeth, scraping at the tender bud, and making Carol’s chest lurch. Once again, the restraints kept her from moving too far.

“Biting,” Carol continued, her voice slightly strained as Zosia kissed to the opposite side, spreading out her attention and applying more pressure. “That’s right, I don’t mind a little biting. Guess you kind of have to be a masochist to be a writer, am I right? Some days it’s like pulling teeth.”

“You’re getting off topic,” Zosia mumbled against her breast.

“Right, right,” Carol cleared her throat, trying to focus on what she was saying rather than the sensation, and failing horrendously. “I like, um… I like the way you’re sucking on my boobs.” She was rewarded with a hard suck, sending a shockwave through her body. “Y-Yeah… and that thing you were doing with your tongue…”

Zosia repeated the aforementioned maneuver, drawing a shiver from her taunt body. Carol was catching on quick. None of these games with her were straight forward. She was at Zosia’s mercy, and she had to be good and obey if she wanted any sort of relief. And Zosia wanted Carol to ask for it.

“And I like it when you kissed my lower stomach,” Carol said. Zosia slowly made her way down and her heart was racing. “Yeah… the way your lip balm sticks to me, slow to release. Slow to let go of me. Your tongue darts out, kissing my most intimate places. Places only you get to taste…”

It was like she cracked the fucking Da Vinci Code. Zosia’s chin brushed against her bush as she planted wet kisses. She settled in between Carol’s legs, lips moving down her inner thigh. Closer to where she needed her, but not close enough. Carol tried to lead the horse to water once again with more colorful language, but she wouldn't drink. It wasn’t quite that simple. She needed to get creative.

“I’d love to see what all the fuss is about. You say you’ve had lovers in every corner of the world, but I mean, were you really that good? Because I think you’re all talk.”

Zosia shot her a dark look up through her brows. If looks could fuck, Carol would be an absolute wreck. Something akin to fear fluttered in her chest, making her heart race, and most confusing of all, it made her walls clench around absolutely nothing. Maybe Zosia really could fuck her with her eyes.

“You should watch how you speak to me,” Zosia asserted, her voice low and commanding.

Her words made Carol hesitate. She remembered the last time Zosia had withheld pleasure, bringing her right up to the edge over and over until she completely fell apart. It was frustrating, but most certainly worth the orgasm. If that was the worst that Zosia could come up with, Carol most certainly didn’t mind.

“I’ll talk to you however I damn well please.”

Zosia lifted her head. Her expression was unreadable, and there was only a suggestion of brown around her pupils. Carol held her gaze, heat building in her low belly at that intense stare. She wasn’t going to back down now.

“Do you remember our traffic light?” Zosia asked.

That was off script. At least from the potential lines Carol had drafted in her mind. “Yeah?” She said tentatively.

“Good.”

Without another word, Zosia buried her face between her thighs. She licked up the length of her in one firm stroke, and Carol’s head fell back into the pillow.

“Fuck…”

It was definitely worth the wait. She thought maybe Zosia would hold out on her, but she was giving it her all. She lapped up all of the wetness that had been building and pooling on the mattress, suddenly full of vigor. She honed in on Carol’s clit with laser precision, making her jump at the overwhelming pressure. She sucked it up between her teeth, and flicked the swollen nerve mercilessly with her tongue. Carol’s breath caught in her throat as Zosia settled into a rhythm that could only be described as life changing. In a series of sucks and licks, Zosia teased and pleased her pussy, pulling out all of the stops.

Plenty of expletives slipped from Carol’s lips, along with all of the other noises Zosia was coaxing out of her. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Zosia to stop and make her ask properly, but there were no breaks. It was all gas as Zosia floored it right to the cliff.

“Z-Zosh… shit… slow down, I’m – I’m gonna cum…”

Her warning wasn’t heeded. Carol lifted her head just enough to see what the hell she was doing down there. Zosia was buried deep, mouth working furiously as she stared Carol down, daring her to cum in her mouth.

All at once, the tension snapped, and Carol cried out with a sharp whine. She curled in on herself instinctually, but Zosia’s firm grip on her thighs and the cuffs around her wrists kept her from moving too far. Zosia didn’t let up as she fucked Carol through her orgasm until the mind-blowing pleasure finally waned.

She started breathing again, shaky but even as she started to recuperate. The sensation of Zosia’s mouth quickly became overwhelming.

“Ok, ok, I’m good…”

Her words were meaningless. If anything, Zosia only sucked harder. Carol hissed as she flicked her clit with her tongue, steadily feasting like a starving wolf. Maybe that was the look she had seen in Zosia’s eyes. A wild animal.

Carol swallowed hard as she realized her intentions.

Zosia wanted her to cum again.

She certainly wasn’t going to complain about more orgasms, but normally she took a break in between. The sensation was intense, and even as she tried to pull her hips back for a little reprieve, Zosia held her firmly in place. Carol instinctively went to reach for Zosia’s head to encourage her to slow, but the cuffs caught. She was trapped.

The traffic light. This was why she had brought it up again. Carol could just say ‘yellow’ and she would let off. ‘Red’ if she really wanted to stop. Judging by how adamant Zosia was about the inclusion of a safe word, Carol had no doubt she would honor it. She trusted Zosia. With her body, with her heart, with her flesh between her teeth. She trusted her.

“Green…” Carol rasped.

Suddenly, her ass was up in the air. Zosia, with a surprising amount of strength, held Carol’s legs up in the air, mouth never disconnecting from that sweet heat. She sat on her knees, positioned above her rather than below, staring down at the overstimulated woman sprawled against the mattress. She sucked harder, and Carol hissed.

“Ah! Ok, ok, I get it! Y-You’re really good at this, you proved your point,” she stammered, voice strained from the dynamic position.

Zosia clearly had much more to prove. She didn’t bat an eye nor miss a beat as she continued to devour her. Carol squirmed and writhed, the overstimulation was becoming blinding. But she didn’t want to stop, as pleasure was starting to bleed through. She could feel it approaching. That blissful state.

“I – I’m sorry!” Carol yelped. She wasn’t sure what Zosia wanted to hear, and her mind was a complete mess. She was shouting just about anything. “I’ll be good, I – I swear! Please!”

Burning, warmth, and indescribable sensations radiated through her body, all emanating from Zosia’s swollen lips on her swollen cunt. The cuffs were cutting into her as she strained against them, becoming desperate for a second release. Carol just knew she would take her there. The edge was approaching, and Zosia floored it.

Carol cried out as the orgasm ripped through her mercilessly. She tensed up, desperate to ride it out through the burning pleasure. The pure intensity made her legs shake a humiliating amount. Even her bottom lip was trembling, and tears weren’t far behind. Just when she thought Zosia was going to try for a third round, she pulled back, giving her that break she had been begging for. She let Carol’s legs fall to the mattress as she was still trembling and twitching from the aftershocks. Even with her mouth gone, she was still throbbing. Zosia climbed up, swollen lips planted against hers, the taste of her own pleasure mingling in her mouth as Zosia swiped her tongue between her teeth. It was intoxicating, but unfortunately, it didn't last very long. Just as soon as she had arrived, Zosia was gone again. Carol rested there a moment, still reeling, as she waited for Zosia to return with more kisses and cuddles. But she didn't.

As she laid there, coming back to reality, catching her breath, and shedding a single tear, she noticed someone standing beside the bed. She blinked a few times, realizing it was only Zosia. She hadn’t even noticed her get off the bed. Let alone take off her clothes. Zosia’s eyes were black and glassy as she pulled off her final article. Her drenched underwear.

“Caught your breath?” She asked.

Carol nodded apprehensively, boneless and still chained to the bed. Her voice was faint. “I don’t think I can do another…”

“You don’t have to. It’s my turn.”

Zosia hopped up on the bed, a knee planted on either side of her head. Carol’s eyes widened at the expansive sight above her. She wished she could take a picture.

Zosia gave Carol’s face a little pat, garnering her love-drunk companion’s attention. “You’re going to hold still for me while I take this. If you need to stop, just bite me. Hard.”

Carol swallowed thickly and nodded. "Y-Yes ma'am -"

Zosia wasted no time. She settled her dripping heat against Carol’s mouth, and started rocking her hips. She let out a heavenly groan, quickly settling into a rhythmic grind. Carol should have been spent, but her sore clit twinged as she tasted her on her tongue. How pathetic.

“You sure like to run that mouth of yours,” Zosia puffed. She tangled a hand in Carol’s hair, holding her head for balance. “You ready to be a good girl for me?”

Carol hummed in agreement.

“Then you’re going to hold still. This is my mouth to fuck. You hear me? Mine.”

Mine.

God, it was like gasoline to a fire.

Zosia let her knees spread further, sinking down and fully enveloping Carol’s mouth. She grinded down relentlessly, picking up the pace. When she wasn’t smashing against Carol’s nose, the poor thing could catch a quick breath. She didn’t mind though. Carol would sooner suffocate than stop Zosia from riding her face and claiming her.

A low groan tumbled from Zosia’s lips still coated in Carol’s essence. There were most certainly some Polish swears slipping out between her grunts of effort as well. She gripped Carol’s hair harder. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to last much longer.

“What was her name?” Zosia rasped out, almost unrecognizable. “Kurwa mać – What the fuck was her name?”

She lifted off and Carol gasped for air. She hadn’t a clue what Zosia was asking, so she stuttered and stammered for clarification. She was quickly answered with Zosia’s heat pressed right back up against her, moving even faster than before.

“That’s what I thought. Can’t even fucking remember her when I’m in your mouth. She doesn’t taste as good as me, does she? I’m the only one who gets you like this. You hear me? You… you’re…”

Laxmi. She was talking about Laxmi.

The realization hit just as Zosia hit the point of no return. She gripped Carol with both hands, legs wide, and hips unforgiving as she rode her mouth right over the edge. Her jaw was sore, and her lungs were on fire as Zosia jerked and thrashed against her. Carol didn’t want to stop it just when things were getting good, but with her hands bound and her lungs screaming for air, she was starting to panic. She was left with no choice. She gave the slightest bite, and Zosia popped off of her in an instant.

“I’m sorry!” She searched Carol’s face, immediately undoing the cuffs. She was breathless, her hands were shaking, and sweat was dripping from her brow. “Are you ok? Does something hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Carol panted, slowly bringing her aching arms back down by her sides. “Just needed some oxygen was all.”

There was a bit of panic on her face as she looked Carol over. Like she was on the verge of tears. Carol reached up, cupping her face. Grounding her.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Zosia nodded, slowly sinking back onto the mattress. She closed her eyes, clearly trying to will away whatever emotion was overtaking her. Carol coaxed her to lay beside her. She was shaking from more than just the aftershocks. Whatever happened, it struck some kind of nerve, and Carol wanted to make sure to mend it however she could.

“Breathe. You’re ok. You’re right here with me.” She swiped away some strands of hair that were glued to her forehead with sweat. She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she tried to put a positive spin on everything. “That was really really good, by the way. I loved every second of it.”

Zosia flashed a smile, but her gaze was somewhere else. Unreachable. Her hand still reached for Carol, though. An unbreakable habit it would seem. She wrapped her arm around Carol’s, tethering herself to something palpable. Carol just held on, waiting for whatever overcame her to pass. She leaned over to the nightstand, snagging the glass of water Zosia had sat there earlier.

“Here, drink.”

Zosia just about chugged the whole glass. She handed it back, and Carol finished it off. There were a few minutes of silence, as they held onto each other and relaxed, waiting for the wave of emotions to pass.

“So, you loved every second of it, hm?” Zosia turned to her, finally appearing more present.

“Oh yeah. It was…” she let out a low whistle. “Well, if I had to pick an adjective, I’d say splendiferous.”

Zosia stifled a laugh, and Carol could finally take a breath. She was back.

“You did very well yourself, Carol. Especially when I was pushing you.” She bit her lip. “Sorry I got a little carried away there at the end.”

Carol scoffed. It was insane how she had gone from a dominating presence riding her face right back to the mild-mannered people-pleasing Zosia. It was like a damn magic trick. And to think she was apologizing for the single sexiest thing that had ever happened to Carol was absolutely astonishing.

“No, no, don’t apologize. That was my favorite part. Having you like that on top of me… chills.” She showed off the gooseflesh on her arms. “It was hot, Zo. Really hot. Seriously, don't apologize.”

She smiled softly, stroking her arm. “Do you need another turn?”

“Jesus, no,” Carol snorted. “What I need is a cigarette and a shower.”

Zosia let out a chuckle. She settled in with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “I could go for a shower too. But not just yet. I want to stay here a while longer.”

Carol curled right up against her. She wanted to stay too. She’d stay with Zosia as long as she’d have her. Forever, if she was lucky.

Chapter Text

“Deep breaths,” Zosia cooed, clutching Carol’s hand as she pushed her limits. “Almost there.”

“I-It’s too much…” Carol choked out breathlessly. There was a sweat on her brow, and her legs were trembling. “I can’t do it…”

“Yes you can, you’re so close.” Zosia was starting to get winded herself. “Just like that… come on….”

With one final yank, Carol was pulled through the narrow rocky gap. The hiking trip was meant to be a relaxing bonding experience, but it turned out to be a lot more physically exhausting than anticipated. Carol leaned on her knees, still catching her breath from the climb.

“How the fuck is this the intermediate trail…” she puffed.

“Well, at least you’re not cold anymore,” Zosia added, much to Carol’s chagrin.

Hiking up a rocky cliff in the middle of January was most certainly not Carol’s ideal date. She wasn’t necessarily opposed to going on a hike, she just wouldn’t have chosen such a crisp day, nor such high intensity. But Zosia couldn’t slow down. She had only been back for two days, and she was using every remaining minute of winter break to its fullest. She had an elaborate evening planned with a hot air balloon ride, an extravagant dinner, and a trip to the movies. The romantic hike was just the warmup.

“I’m still cold,” Carol snipped. “Now I’m just sweaty and cold.”

“It’s only ten degrees,” she chuckled. “Fun fact, Scandinavians will let their babies sleep outside when it’s far colder. Negative six, seven degrees,” she estimated. “They just bundle them up in their strollers. A lot of parents believe the babies sleep better that way.”

Carol tried to do the conversion to Fahrenheit in her head so she could argue better, but she quickly gave up. “Are you saying I’m acting like a baby?”

Zosia pouted her lips, holding back a cheeky smile. “Worse than a baby.”

She shot her a look before begrudgingly trudging the rest of the way up the path. It was nice that they could joke again. Even when silence fell between them, it was no longer awkward or filled with unresolved tension. It was comfortable. That’s what it felt like to be around Zosia. To be in her arms, on her lap, under her weight. She was just so affable and welcoming, even a moment apart from her made Carol’s heart ache.

“Carol?”

She was so deep in her thoughts, she hadn’t even realized Zosia stopped. Carol back peddled to stand beside her, taking in the view.

Zosia shed her jacket and draped it over Carol’s shoulders chivalrously. “So, was it worth the hike?”

She pulled the fabric tighter, absorbing the heat Zosia had been radiating. She inched over closer, letting their sides touch. The rocky foothills drifted off towards the Chihuahuan desert, with hues of umber and terracotta melting into the distant horizon. Carol didn’t find it all that impressive. She could see a similar view from her backyard.
“Not really,” she shrugged. “But it’s nice to spend time with you.”

Zosia smiled down at her softly, nothing artificial about it, as the playfulness melted into something more tender. She glanced up and down the path, then snaked an arm around Carol’s waist. Neither the wind whipping past nor the burning in Carol’s lungs could rival the feeling of Zosia wrapped around her. It was a high she never wanted to come down from.

Zosia had mercy on her soul, and they took the easy route back down. Even though she was ten years her junior, Zosia seemed a little tired from the excursion as well, so they paced themselves. Try as she might, Carol’s mind kept wandering back to everything they had done last night. The sting, the pleasure, the burning, the ecstasy. She didn’t even want to get out of bed that morning, never mind her sore muscles. The urge to do it all over again exceeded her exhaustion. It all just kept replaying in her mind – the look in Zosia’s eye, the way her voice had deepened, and how her breath grew hot and agitated.

Her train of thought was quickly derailed by Zosia shouting something in Polish. Carol perked up at the exclamation. She had spotted something off the trail, and before Carol could even question what was said, she dashed off through the bushes.

“Wait up!” Carol called, running after her. God only knows what strange animal she’d pick up and try to take home. Carol just prayed it wasn’t venomous. The last thing she needed was Zosia getting bit by a rattlesnake in the middle of nowhere. “Whatever it is, don’t touch it!”

She clambered over the sagebrush, and squeezed between the boulders where Zosia had disappeared. She popped out the other side, landing in a bramble of wildflowers. Zosia thankfully hadn’t gone far. She was staring off, watching something dash away. Carol just barely caught a glimpse of a roadrunner before it disappeared into the underbrush.

“Did you see it? The little bird?” She pointed.

“That was a roadrunner,” Carol concluded, plucking spines out of her shirt. “They’re all over the place.”

“We have ones like them at home.” She stared off wistfully. “I remember watching them on the beach when I was a girl. They’d sit at the edge of the water, and run as soon as a big wave came. I’d go and try to run alongside them. Then my mother would scold me for ruining my shoes, so I’d kick them off and just keep running…”Her voice trailed off.

Carol stood beside her. “Sandpipers, I think those are.”

“Sandpipers…” Zosia echoed. She smiled for a beat, out of habit if anything. But then, she let it fall off her face in a moment of transparency. “Sorry. Lately, fond memories just end up making me sad.”

Carol knew the feeling all too well. She felt the same whenever she thought about her own mother. Even her best childhood memories were stained with grief, knowing all the love she felt was conditional on her being the perfect daughter. She watched the way Zosia’s gaze lingered on the wildflowers, wondering what memories were flickering behind her eyes. The wind picked up, sending a flurry of petals dancing across the ground. The roadrunner was long gone.

“Have you talked to your folks? You know, since…” Carol murmured.

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “They don’t want me to call. They made that very clear.”

It had to have been quite a blow to lose everything like that. Her family, her estate, her safety net. There was nothing for her to hold on to. Nothing to go back to. The drastic attempt to woo Carol seemed to go beyond romance. Zosia had friends, but none of them were privy to her authentic self like Carol was. She was one of the only things Zosia had left to latch onto. A life preserver.

“My parents found out when I was sixteen,” Carol admitted, hoping to relate to Zosia in some way. “There was this girl I went to school with, Andrea Flemming. She was really into Metallica, and she always wore this acid washed denim jacket, covered in these different activism buttons... I thought she was the coolest person ever.” Carol laughed and shook her head, remembering all of the things she did to get Andrea’s attention.

“And me,” she continued. “I always knew there was something different about me. I tried to do it – I tried to like boys. I’d pretend to have crushes on classmates just so I could relate to the other girls but… it just never stuck. Then came Andrea, and it all finally clicked.” She stared off over the rocky hills, letting out a heavy sigh. The rest of the story was always hard to tell.

“It was at a football game. I hate football, but Andrea liked it, so I went and sat with her. Then, we snuck under the bleachers and she shared a cigarette with me. I don’t know what possessed me to do it right there, but I just… I just leaned forward and kissed her. It was one of the scariest things I had ever done.”

“Did she kiss you back?”

Carol glanced up at her. She almost forgot it was Zosia she was telling the story to, and not the endless wilderness. “For a second she did. But she left really quickly after that without so much as a goodbye. I felt this pit in my stomach, because I just knew that I messed up. I stayed under the bleachers until they shut off the field lights, then I walked home in the dark, beating myself up over it. When I got home, I noticed an extra car in the driveway.” Carol shrugged. “I thought maybe it was somebody using the phone or something. So I just went in and was completely blindsided by my mother. She smacked me upside the head before I could even step two feet in the house, and I immediately knew who was waiting in our living room. Andrea’s parents.”

“Oh Carol…” Zosia rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. If only she knew that was far from the worst of it.

Carol tried to find the strength to tell her the truth, but it was hard to admit. Even Helen hadn’t heard the full story. She knew about Camp Freedom Falls, but the torture Carol endured out there was something she kept close to her chest. So, she wrapped up her story quick. She was supposed to be comforting Zosia, not dragging her down.

“Things were never the same after that. I haven’t spoken to my parents in over 30 years.” She let the words hang between them, then sucked on her lips before continuing. “So, I get it. I get what it’s like not to have that anymore. To be alone. Abandoned.” Carol stroked the small of Zosia’s back with a firm palm. “You don’t ever have to worry about me leaving you, Zosia. Even if this didn’t work out between us, I would never just abandon you. Never.”

There was a faint smile on Zosia’s lips as she looked down at her, eyes warm and sympathetic. She wasn’t perfect like Carol always thought. She was human. A human who was trying everything in her power to make those around her happy, and her whole world had come crashing down. Now, at the end of her rope, there was only one person who could save her from her intrinsic need to please. Unfortunately, it just so happened to be Carol Sturka, the most miserable person on earth.

Carol could try being the happy one.

She would try anything for Zosia.

“Let’s cancel our plans tonight. Instead, we’re going to pick up some food and go back to your place. Then we can just sit and watch some shitty TV and enjoy each other’s company. How’s that sound?”

Despite the smile growing on her face, a tear managed to squeeze its way out. Zosia quickly swiped it away. “That sounds perfect.”

“Perfect,” she echoed, her voice carried off on the wind.

Neither of them made a move back towards the trail, they just held each other’s gaze. Those big doe eyes and that sweet smile always gave her pause. She was a holy visage, and Carol felt deeply compelled to confess. Because the words she had been terrified to say out loud fluttered in her chest, clawed up her throat, and sat right on the tip of her tongue.

“I love you.”

Zosia’s breath hitched as the words registered. Carol leaned up on her tiptoes, captured her lips, and sealed her devotion against her tongue, warm and sweet. She could kiss her all day, and make love to her all night. She could spend eternity lost in her eyes, and give herself over to that sweet surrender.

Zosia kissed her back. She kissed her back like she hadn’t seen her in years. Like the moment was fleeting, and there were mere seconds to memorize the scape of Carol’s mouth. And perhaps their time was fleeting. Steady footfalls descended down the path, a few yards back. It was a couple of fellow hikers on their way back down from the peak. Zosia’s lips refused to release, so she turned her head, forcing herself to pull away.

Carol wasn’t finished. She cupped her face and pulled her right back in.

The surprise alone made her hum as they fell back in sync. With uncoordinated steps, Carol awkwardly ushered her over to one of the large boulders, obscuring the view of them from the path. The adrenaline alone made her attack Zosia even more viciously, and she returned as many kisses as Carol would give her.

The footsteps were impossibly close, just on the other side of the boulder. Neither of them dared to stop, nor dared to pull away. There was no way the hikers could see them, right? Even if they could, Carol wasn’t sure she really cared. She had been wanting to kiss Zosia like this since they rolled out of bed that morning, and she didn’t let the strangers stop her.

The footsteps started to recede down the winding path, and the voices drifted off on the wind. Carol was vibrating from the sheer rush of it as Zosia pulled back just enough to speak.

“Wow, what’s gotten into you?” She said, a wicked smirk playing at her lips.

“I wanted to kiss my girlfriend.”

“In public like this? It’s just very out of character is all…”

Carol shrugged, feeling a little coy herself. “Well, you said you didn’t like the fact that I try to hide who I am – “ Zosia tried to interrupt to apologize but it was futile. “ – and you were right. You’ve been right since the beginning,” Carol continued. “‘I want to make you happy’, you say. ‘Your life is your own’, you say. And agency, I’ve got all this agency, yet I’m letting strangers control me? Well fuck that. I am going to take control of my life and be happy for fucking once.”

Zosia smiled proudly at the new and improved Professor Sturka. “Look at you. You’re a changed woman already.”

“I am,” Carol concurred, holding her head high. “All thanks to you.”

She gave her one more chaste peck, further proving her point. Zosia’s gaze lingered on her lips a moment longer, tongue in cheek and an impish air about her. She stroked Carol’s face, her thumb trailing down to her bottom lip.

“You know, you never struck me as an exhibitionist. But you kissing me in public so boldly is making me believe otherwise… it’s giving me ideas, actually…”

Carol flushed slightly. “First of all, kissing and fucking are two very different things. Second of all, I don’t feel like getting arrested, so there’s that.”

Zosia shrugged. “That’s only if we get caught.”

She was taken aback by her quip. Zosia had said she had tried just about everything. Sex in public was probably one of the first things she checked off her list. Carol definitely wasn’t cold anymore as Zosia looked her up and down like a meal. As if she wanted to push Carol up against a boulder and take her right there. She was getting far more liberal with her bedroom eyes, and Carol was having a hard time deciphering teasing from a candid invitation. Her hesitation and flushed cheeks only seemed to amuse Zosia more.

“Maybe at a later date,” Zosia winked, walking back towards the path. She called over her shoulder to her counterpart lagging behind. “You’re far too noisy anyway.”

---------------------------------------

Carol should have known they weren’t going to watch a single minute of that movie. She had spent twenty minutes choosing between The Notebook and Invasion of The Body Snatchers just for the sappy romance to become background noise to a hot, wet make out session. In her defense, Zosia had started it when she wouldn’t stop playing with Carol’s hair and glancing over every time they cut away from Rachel McAdams. How could she not kiss her? Or grope her? Or pull her onto her lap?

Those drinks from dinner probably didn’t help either. Carol was trying to burn through the rest of her alcohol reserves before getting sober, so she had brought over a nice bottle of wine. She hadn’t mentioned the desire to get sober to Zosia, as she had disappointed Helen many, many times in the past. But this time, she did feel a little hopeful. So, Carol figured she’d share the nice stuff with her friends and dump all of the bottom shelf liquor.

Zosia, tipsy off of a few glasses of wine, was more than receptive to Carol’s advances. She had this way of driving Carol crazy until she finally caved and made the first move. Carol always thought it meant she was leading the dance and Zosia was merely following. Slowly she started to realize that all along, it was Zosia putting on the music and waiting for Carol to do her bidding and give in to her urges. Was it manipulative? Was it done in good faith? Carol wasn’t the person to ask. Because with Zosia’s tongue down her throat and her hips anchored so firmly, she really couldn’t even remember what day it was.

The seductress finally let their lips part, breathless as she started to clamber off her lap. “Bedroom,” she ordered.

Carol was up like a spring. Well, a rusty spring. Her legs were still sore from the hike that morning. Zosia took her hand, urgently dragging her along. Clearly she had something in mind, as she haphazardly shoved Carol towards the bed before pilfering her sex toy stash. She didn’t take long locating her weapon of choice. Carol was seated on the bed, shedding her sweatshirt when something heavy landed in her lap. She popped her head out of the fabric and looked down. It was a dildo. A big one.

Carol swallowed thickly, eyes widening at the size. “I’m gonna need quite the warm up…”

“Don’t worry, it’s for me,” Zosia tossed a leather harness in her direction. “Put that on.”

Carol blinked a few times. That should have eased her anxieties, but it only made things worse. Their whole discussion around domination and submission had lulled her into a false sense of security. She thought Zosia was rather rigid in her role, so the fact that she was now rapidly stripping her clothing and waiting for Carol to ravish her was bewildering. She wasn’t a stranger to strapping up, but she was very unfamiliar with the intricacies of domination. What the hell was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do with her hands?

“Did I stutter?” Zosia snipped, wiggling out of her panties.

“N-No ma’am.”

Carol hopped right up, and took to stripping. She could do this. And for what she lacked in assertiveness, she would make up for with her skills. She just hoped Zosia’s laundry list of lovers hadn’t set the bar too high. Helen said Carol was good at topping. Surely she hadn’t been lying to save her feelings. God, what if she was bad at it?

“Hurry up.” Zosia was up on the bed, hungry and waiting rather impatiently.

Carol was fumbling with the buckles. “Just one second…”

She crawled over, yanking Carol closer. “Here, let me.”

She took the fuchsia silicone, and saddled it in the harness. She clipped the clasps with deft hands, and tightened it at record pace. Carol’s nerves aside, Zosia’s confidence was hot. She followed her back up onto the bed like a hound on a trail, getting a nice look at that beautiful body she could write poems about.

Evidently, Zosia was really worked up from their sloppy kisses on the couch. Really, she had been worked up since they rolled out of bed that morning. She took Carol’s hand, pulling her down into the pool of wetness that begged to be touched. Her gaze didn’t waver as Carol took to stroking her, fingers firm against the forgiving flesh. Zosia drew a shaky breath, her eyes nearly black. She didn’t let the heavy petting go on very long. She took it upon herself to take Carol’s wet fingers and maneuver two of them deep inside. There wasn’t any resistance.

Carol’s whole body pulsed. She took the hint, and started pumping her fingers in and out. Zosia still wasn’t satisfied. She pulled Carol in, kissing her hard and damn near pulling the breath from her lungs. If this was how she was after a couple glasses of wine, Carol could only imagine how Zosia would have acted that night she drove her home from the bar.

“Another,” Zosia rasped out.

Carol didn’t hesitate. She could now feel her walls gripping against her, and Zosia let out a soft grunt against her lips every few strokes. Carol herself was horny as hell. How could she not be with the way Zosia was biting at her lips, canines scraping, dangerously close to drawing blood. The way her nails dug into Carol’s back, scratching her skin raw. Her anxieties were quickly forgotten.

Carol ripped her mouth away, panting and trembling with excitement. She slipped her fingers out much to Zosia’s chagrin. Before she could vocalize her complaint, Carol held her palm up, just below Zosia’s chin.

“Spit.”

She spat without missing a beat. Carol gave the rubber a stroke, slathering it, then lined up. She slowly rolled her hips forward, testing the waters, but Zosia pulled her right into the deep end. She didn’t so much as flinch as she took in the full length, maintaining desirous and unrelenting eye contact. It rattled Carol’s confidence ever so slightly.

Hands braced on either side of her, Carol rocked her hips forward and back. Zosia’s grabby hands didn’t let her pull out too far before urging her back in, effectively setting the pace herself. Finally, she seemed satisfied with the stretch. Ragged moans slipped out of her parted lips. She also gave plenty of direction as she clutched Carol by the back of the neck, helping her find just the right angle.

“Lower… harder… don’t be shy… right there…” She shuttered and clawed into the taunt muscles of Carol’s back. “Good girl… fuck – just like that…”

Carol eagerly followed every direction. Clearly she had landed on the right spot, as Zosia’s breath hitched and she squeezed her eyes shut. Carol leaned down and smothered her in kisses once more, panting every time they parted.

Zosia wasn’t the only one getting pleasure. Each stroke pressed the base of the dildo against her in just the right way. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on the delicious sensation. She was starting to work up a sweat, and her arms were starting to shake. The more Carol pounded into her, the more the pressure rose until it reached a dangerous level. Her eyes flew open and she lurched back as she realized what was about to happen.

“I think I’m gonna cum.” Carol announced in a panic.

Zosia didn’t seem worried in the slightest. In fact, a wicked smirk stretched across her face. She yanked Carol closer, breath hot and ragged against her face.

“Not so fast, baby. You hold it for me.”

She closed her eyes and sucked on her lips, trying to focus on something else. It wasn’t working. “I – I don’t think I can…”

“You will.”

“I can’t – “

Just as the levee was about to break, Zosia shoved her off. Carol was disoriented as she landed back on her ass in the center of the bed. The tension in her loins relaxed ever so slightly, coming back down from the edge. In an instant, Zosia was on top of her, kissing her in a delirious frenzy, nipping and biting like an animal. The sweet tang of metal melded with the alcohol still burning on her tongue, and Carol drank it in eagerly. Zosia paused her onslaught just long enough to whisper something frantic and throaty in Carol’s ear.

“I’m trying really hard to be nice to you, but you need to listen when I give you an order.”

Carol quickly decided to play into her disobedience. Judging by the lust in Zosia’s crazy eyes, she was enjoying the opportunity to set her straight. Maybe Carol liked the idea of getting punished too. “And what if I don’t?”

“Keep playing and you’ll find out.”

“Maybe I want to.”

She merely raised a brow, accepting the challenge. Her focus turned back to the cock still dripping with her essence. Zosia sat back, positioned herself just so, and lowered herself down. She let out a heavy exhale of contentment as she settled on the silicone in its entirety, getting used to the stretch once more. She lifted herself up about half way before lowering back down again, her hips landing on Carol’s with a solid thud.

Zosia planted her hands on Carol’s stomach as she settled into a rhythm. She let out a foreign swear under her breath as her eyes fluttered shut. It was truly a beautiful sight, seeing Zosia ride her like that. Not to mention the contact every time she bottomed out was starting to build up that pressure again, slowly but surely.

“You think you’re cute?” She leaned down closer, an arrogant air about her. It was something rarely seen outside of the bedroom, but incredibly hot when Carol was below her. “I can finish you off in only a minute.”

“Is that so?” She said coyly. “I’d like to see you try.”

Zosia’s eyes narrowed, and she adjusted her thighs before grinding her hips down far harsher than before. Carol’s breath caught in her throat. Each passing second she became more light headed as Zosia fucked her relentlessly.

“S-Shit…” Carol gasped, her eyes widening as realization set in.

Zosia didn’t lie.

She was going to finish her off right now.

The gratification was blatant on Zosia’s face as she rode her into the sunset. “I’d like an apology for your smart mouth,” she puffed.

The pressure was hitting just right, and Zosia’s thighs were the only thing she had to hold on to. “I’m… I’m sorry ma’am…”

“For what?” Zosia’s breath was getting shaky as well. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry… for…”

She couldn’t get the words out. Her eyes rolled back as the levee broke, and euphoria crashed over her in a blinding wave. Carol held on for dear life, fingers digging into Zosia’s thighs. It must have been quite the sight, as Zosia’s climax wasn’t far behind. Her hips hitched and jerked as she reached the end of her rope with plenty of noises herself. They both fell apart, holding onto each other for dear life.

When the waves finally ceased, Zosia eased herself off of the strap and collapsed forward, her forehead resting against Carol’s as they both tried to catch their breath. With her fingers still trembling, Carol slid her hands up Zosia’s back, anchoring herself in the warmth and weight above her. For a moment, neither said a word, as they came down from their high and rejoined reality.

When Zosia finally spoke, her voice was husky and low. “You know, I’m starting to think you like being a brat.” Her lips curled into a lazy grin.

Carol managed a weak chuckle, dizzy and sated. “Maybe I do. Besides, you like it when I bite back.”

They laid together for a while, tangled and content, letting their breathing syncopate. The faint sound of the rolling credits wafted over from the living room, playing out their ecstasy. Carol stroked Zosia’s long, brunette tresses. She could have fallen asleep right there.

“What was the last thing you ever said to your parents?” Zosia asked, nuzzled between Carol’s breasts.

She let out a snort. “Wow, that’s exactly what I want to talk about postcoital.”

“Sorry, I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” There was a layer of sadness under the fatigue in her voice. “I told my parents that I love them, and I hope one day they can learn to love me. It’s… cheesy, I know, but I just keep wondering if I should have said more… if I should have tried harder.”

“You don’t owe them a God damn thing,” Carol asserted. “They’re the ones who need to make things up to you, not the other way around. If they don’t want to change, then you shouldn’t stick around.”

Zosia thought it over for a moment. “Is that what you told your parents?”

She hesitated, but ultimately decided to take a page out of Zosia’s book and be more honest.

“I told them don’t bother inviting me to their funerals, I’d just see them in Hell.”

Zosia’s brows lifted, surprise flickering over her features. “Well, that’s one way to draw a line…”

Carol shrugged, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I was done letting them hurt me.”

The thought to explain further – to divulge about conversion therapy – danced across her mind, but even with some liquid courage and lingering bliss, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Maybe some other day. Maybe some other time. For now, it was easier to push it down than spew it out.

“Why don’t we ever spend time at your house?” Zosia asked.

Carol craned her neck. “You’ve got a lot of questions…”

“You have a lot of secrets.”

She let her head fall back in the pillows, sucking on her bottom lip. There was the faintest hint of iron where Zosia’s teeth had scraped her. “I guess… your place is just nicer.”

“Nicer,” Zosia scoffed. “By what standard?”

“It’s welcoming.” Carol shrugged. “My house is…” Haunted was the first word that came to mind. Depressing was the second. “…cold.” She finally concluded.

“Then I’ll wear a sweater.”

Carol let out a heavy sigh.

Zosia sat up a little. “It’s ok if you don’t want me in your house, Carol. I won’t take offense to it.”

Those damn doe eyes and that little pout said otherwise.

“You can come over,” she finally relented. “I – I want you to come over. Maybe it’ll liven up the place.”

She got all giddy at the prospect. “Yes! Oh, this is going to be great! I’ve been wanting to cook in your enormous kitchen again! And we could both work in your office. And your garden, I could plant some herbs back there, and – “ Zosia started to blush as she looked away bashfully. “My apologies… I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m mostly excited to be with you and spend the night in your arms.”

“Me too.” Carol hugged her closer. It all sounded quite marvelous, except for the last sentiment. Spending the night. She couldn’t just have Zosia camp out on the couch with her. She’d want to sleep in a bed.

In Carol’s bed, right beside Helen’s ghost.

Chapter Text

She thought yellow would liven up the place, but now that she was looking at it all together, it just reminded her of bile. It was too late to go back, though. Carol had already thrown out the old sheets, so she’d just have to live with the yellow ones.

New bedding eased the ache ever so slightly. It was a fresh start, that was what she told herself. But as she stood back, admiring the new linens, her gaze drifted to Helen’s night stand. It was still harboring her old belongings. A sleep mask, a dog-eared Agatha Christie novel, a bottle of eucalyptus and mint lotion.

They’d all have to go if Zosia were to sleep over.

She had already purged the bedding. The nightstand was just another hurdle she’d have to navigate sooner or later. Carol came to a quiet resolve and paced to the kitchen, mentally preparing herself for the task at hand.

She returned with a garbage bag and reluctantly began the process of removing Helen’s old belongings. She picked up the lotion bottle, tracing her thumb over the worn label, memories flickering through her mind. For a moment, she considered stashing the silent tribute elsewhere for safe keeping. But the thought of Zosia finding those relics one day made her chest tight with a complicated ache. If she didn’t toss them now, she never would.

A light coat of dust stained her fingers as she disposed of the possessions that were no longer possessed. It was a small weight off her shoulders. Small, but weight, nonetheless. She dusted the wooden top clean with her palm, then moved to the small drawer just underneath. It wasn’t until they were staring her in the face that Carol recalled the contents. A few things that buzzed and a few things that could be inserted, along with a pair of handcuffs. She felt woozy at the thought of using such things on Zosia. It would just remind her of having sex with Helen, and that was one line she couldn’t cross. Carol swiftly emptied the drawer of sex toys into her bag.

She stood back and looked it over. The night stand was bare; almost unfamiliar. That was better than looking like Helen’s at least. Now she wouldn’t feel so guilty about being intimate with Zosia, should the occasion arise. She glanced back to the bag in her hand, realizing that she had just thrown out all of her utility. Zosia already thought she was vanilla, and seeing no toys – not even a vibrator – was sure to make her look green as grass. Carol let out a heavy sigh as she realized what she needed to do.

---------------------------

Carol was locked in indecision before the endless wall of toys. Dildos, vibrators, whips, paddles, gags, handcuffs, and those were only the things she recognized. Normally, she’d just send Helen in while she waited in the car. She herself hadn’t been in a sex shop in ages, and it seemed like nowadays they sold alien appendages and robot girlfriends.

She reached for something familiar, and picked up a vibrator. It wasn’t anything fancy or impressive by any means. Maybe she should spring for something fancy. Carol spied a wand with a panel of buttons. She glanced over the packaging advertising over 30 different modes. That seemed quite excessive, so she put it back.

Carol’s eyes wandered over to the more subversive items. She never would have given it a second glance in the past, but now she found herself genuinely considering the kinky commodities. Something caught her eye, and she picked it up off the shelf. It was a dark leather paddle, heavy and solid. There was a word pressed into it, and it took her a moment to realize what it said, as it was written backwards. Designed to mark the recipient upon impact.

Mine.

“Need help finding anything? You’ve been here for like an hour.”

Carol all but jumped out of her skin, clutching the paddle behind her back as she turned around. The young sales associate with jet black hair and a punk aesthetic looked somewhat familiar. Carol was almost certain she had seen her on campus. Maybe even in her class.

“No, no…” Her cheeks burned as she stealthily tucked the paddle into the shopping basket hanging from the crook of her arm. She prayed the young woman didn’t recognize her. “I’m just getting some gag gifts for um, a bachelorette party,” she stammered, anxiously fussing with her hair.

“The bachelorette section is right over there.” She pointed to a table nearby.

Carol took one look at the penis themed plates, cups, and banners and frowned. “Yeah… not really that kind of party. She’s uh… she’s a lesbian.”

“Oh, well what about the bachelor party section then?” She brought her to a separate table, hosting a variety of items with boobs slapped on them. The associate handed Carol a curvaceous cup that was well-endowed. “The jug with jugs is a best seller.”

She clicked her tongue and gingerly handed the cup back. “I don’t know… I think I’ll just keep looking around.”

The associate shrugged, a coy air about her. “No problem. Just let me know if you need anything, Professor Sturka.”

Son of a bitch.

Carol could have died right then and there. She winced and tried to play it cool, forcing a smile on her face. “Thanks,” she mumbled, inching away from her as quickly as she could without breaking into a full sprint.

She ducked between the wall of dildos and a rack of lingerie, heart pounding. Her mortification aside, she couldn’t just leave without buying something now. That would make her look a million times more guilty. So she did a quick loop, grabbing a few items that could be useful and also be passed off as gag gifts. Some kind of vibrator with an extra appendage, a big rainbow dildo and harness, and some Valentines Day themed lingerie for good measure.

She brought them up to the register, feigning aloofness towards the same associate that was now scanning her items. Upon reading her nametag, she remembered her from a creative writing course last spring. Jane.

“Did you find everything ok?” Jane asked.

Carol shrugged, leaning against the counter. “Oh, yeah, I guess. Just… some silly things.” She laughed awkwardly.

Jane scanned the comical rainbow dildo. “Did you need any lube?”

“N-No. It’s just for my friend.”

“Right…” her inflection was unconvinced. “Well, your friend might appreciate some.” She reached under the counter and came back with a small bottle. “It’s water based, so it’ll work for pretty much anything. Just apply it liberally.”

Carol sucked on her lips. “Ok, yeah sure, whatever…”

She went to scan the paddle and hesitated. “Oh, did you want to swap this one out? The Punish Me paddles are on sale right now, half off.”

Carol hesitated. “Do those ones have the words on them?”

“No, they’re just plain leather.”

“… I’ll stick with this one, thanks.”

Jane finished scanning the items with a subtle smile. “Would you look at that, $69.02.”

Carol couldn’t get her wallet out fast enough. As she fumbled with her cards, the bell above the entrance dinged. It would have been trivial if the customer hadn’t recognized her immediately.

“Oh my god, Carol?” Shannon walked right up, giving her a hug she didn’t ask for. “Funny seeing you here!”

Carol wriggled right out of the hug, desperately smacking her card into the scanner. “Shannon, hey, yeah, let’s catch up later.”

“Gotta use the chip reader,” Jane said, leaning against her fist, aloof to the whole ordeal. “Tap to pay isn’t working.”

Carol let out a swear under her breath as she jammed her card in. Shannon was more than happy to keep yapping at her while she waited for the slowest card reader in the world to approve her purchase.

“Getting some early Valentines shopping done too, eh?” Shannon said as she got a good look at the items Jane was bagging painfully slow. “That Zosia’s one lucky lady!”

Carol’s heart dropped to her ass. She should have never came here in the first place. She couldn’t even begin to think of the implications of her relationship with Zosia getting out at the college. All she could do was dodge the allegation entirely. “T-That’s a real funny joke, Shannon. You should do stand up,” she said through gritted teeth before quickly pivoting. “Hey, what happened to you and Koumba anyway?”

“Oh, it’s a long story. You know what? I’ll call you later. You seem like you’re in a hurry.”

The card reader beeped, and Carol ripped her card out, reaching for her bag. “Yeah, just a little. I’ll see you later.” She shoved right past her.

“Oh, ok! Bye!” Shannon called after her in vain. Carol was already booking it out the door, not even waiting for her receipt.

-----------------------------------

Zosia inhaled deeply as she passed the threshold. “Your house always smells so nice, Carol.”

Considering she had spent the last few hours panic cleaning before picking her up, she sure hoped it smelled nice. “Thanks.”

Zosia kicked off her boots and paced down the hall, as a distinct scent stood out to her. She followed her nose all the way to the kitchen and went straight to the oven, peering through the tinted door. “Are you baking something?”

Carol poured a couple of glasses of lemonade she had made in advance. “Yeah, a lemon cake.”

She stood back up with a pleased hum. “That sounds delicious.”

“Yeah, well, I burned it the last two times I tried to make it, so don’t get your hopes up.” She handed her a glass.

“I always have high hopes for you, Carol.”

Carol clicked the oven light on and glanced through the window, trying to spot any signs of burning around the edges. “If this one doesn’t turn out, I might swear off lemon cake for good. Y’know, they say baking is a science, which makes sense as to why I always fuck it up.”

“There’s an art to it for sure.” Zosia grinned and leaned against the counter, her eyes crinkling. “Fun fact, watching it doesn’t make it bake any faster.”

Carol shot her a look, and stepped back. “And how would you like to pass the time, smartass?”

“How about a board game?” She said earnestly.

“Seriously?”

Zosia shrugged. “It could be fun.” She smiled and took a sip.

Carol mulled it over. Koumba’s visits had led to plenty of rounds of Monopoly and Risk, and they always ended in either a stalemate or a flipped board. She herself was tired of most of the games, but a deck of cards never disappointed. She went and fetched some from her game cupboard and came back, happily displaying them.

“Cards,” Zosia hummed. “Know any good games?”

She shook them out of the pack, shuffling them on the kitchen island. “You pick.”

Zosia watched the cards flutter between Carol’s fingers as she made her selection. “Strip poker?”

Carol paused mid-bridge, raising a brow. “I’m sorry, are we thirteen?”

“What? Scared you’ll lose?”

She scoffed, proceeding with her shuffling. “No, I’m sure I’d get you naked faster than I did yesterday. I’m just saying it’s a game for horny teenagers. Pick something more… thought provoking.”

“Thought provoking.” Zosia echoed, her eyes narrowing. “Ok, how about this. Strip poker, but instead of removing clothing, the loser has to answer a question. And it has to be honest, no beating around the bush.”

“What like truth or dare? You know, I think that’s actually more childish…”

Zosia gave her that affectionately irritated look she liked to give.

“Ok, fine.” Carol started dealing out cards. “Hope you’re ready, I’ve got some pretty good questions already lined up.”

“As do I.”

The round was played in silence as both of them focused on their cards. With the final flop, Carol knew immediately that she had lost. Zosia had a cheeky smile as she revealed her pair of 6s.

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” Carol grumbled as she gathered the cards.

“Hmm… let’s see… where to start…” Zosia drummed her fingers against the counter. “Ah, I’ve got it. Who is your favorite character you’ve ever written?”

Carol was taken aback. She had been expecting something far deeper, provocative, even. She dealt the cards out as she denounced the trivial question.

“Which vapid, sexy pirate is my favorite? That’s like asking me to pick my favorite meathead from Jersey Shore. They’re all insufferable.” She scoffed, swapping out the poor hand she had been dealt.

“Oh, you poor, tortured artist,” Zosia mocked. “By the way, it’s still my turn.”

Carol paused as Zosia swapped out her own cards, and watched her long fingers trace the rounded corners.

“Why are you asking me?” Carol tilted her head. “I mean, you’re the one who’s scoured the internet, dredging up old interviews I’ve done. Surely I’ve mentioned it at some point.”

Zosia shrugged. “I want to hear you say it.”

She gave it a moment of thought. “Lucasia I guess? She’s the only one with a brain, you know, when she isn’t fawning over Raban.”

The way she overenunciated the love interest’s name didn’t go unnoticed. “What’s wrong with Raban?”

She gave her a pointed look as she flipped the final card. “It’s Raban. Proud, haughty Raban. He’s just some arrogant asshole with a soft spot for the only woman that’s ever been nice to him.”

Zosia showed her winning hand with a winning smile. “Sounds familiar…”

Carol sucked on her lips as she gathered up the cards once more, shuffling in scorned silence. She had always seen Lucasia as the character that came from her heart, and Raban was just a counter to her good natured ways. To compare Carol to Raban was a bit of a slap in the face. She tossed Zosia her cards, still slightly miffed.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” Zosia asked, an air of amusement about her. She leaned down to try to catch Carol’s eyes.

“Just ask your damn question.”

“That is my question.”

Carol paused her dealing.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” Zosia repeated, more earnestly this time.

She shrugged indifferently. “Yeah… yeah kind of.”

“How so?”

“That’s another question.” She continued dealing. “Beat me if you wanna ask so bad.”

Poker was mostly a game of luck, and luck wanted absolutely nothing to do with Carol. It was her third trash hand in a row, and once her loss was confirmed, she shoved the deck into Zosia’s hands. “I’m shit at shuffling. Here.”

She coolly accepted the cards, shuffling them with precision. “How did I hurt your feelings?”

“Jesus…” Carol muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. It would have been easier to answer vulgar questions about her sexual history than whatever this was. Opening up like this was making her skin crawl. “Raban isn’t a good person, so you comparing me to him…” God, it was like pulling teeth. “…it hurt my feelings.”

Zosia furrowed her brows as she dealt Carol her cards. “I’m sorry. Personally, I find Raban to be a very complex character – “

Carol snorted. “Yeah right. He’s just eye candy for all the horny moms with shitty husbands.”

“I couldn’t disagree more.” Zosia checked her hand, deciding not to exchange any cards. “Raban has so much trauma and resentment from his loved ones entombing him in the Caverns of Aevalor. All of those horrible things he was forced to endure, just to be cast aside and lost to time. So, yes, he’s an asshole, but it’s all just this persona he built. Deep down, he’s still the emotionally stunted, scared little boy he was. That’s what he’ll always be if he never lets his walls down with Lucasia. Which I suppose wouldn’t be fully explored until the next book…” She looked away sheepishly. “No pressure to write it, though. I just find the whole dynamic rather compelling.”

Carol blinked a few times, processing the incredibly accurate dissection of her character. Zosia had read into it deeper than Carol herself even realized it went. Because every word she spoke was truth, yet Carol hadn’t intended for that interpretation when she first started writing all those years ago. She never could pin down what it was about Raban that made him so hard to write. But now it was so clear. All it took was Zosia holding up a mirror.

“Ready?” Zosia asked, primed to show her hand.

Carol snapped back to reality. To the simple game of cards in her kitchen with the woman she loved. She flipped her hand, and against all odds, she had a flush. The strange emotions Zosia had evoked were slow to dampen, but the small victory was a good start.

“Finally,” Carol chuckled. “First of all, in your face. Secondly, I want to know what it was like growing up in Poland.”

Zosia was pleasantly surprised as she took to shuffling again. “Where to begin? Gdansk is a beautiful city, and I had a marvelous childhood there. My family was poor when I was young, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the little things. I spent a lot of my days sitting near the shore with my nose buried in a book, if you can imagine that,” she chuckled. “I had these big dreams of traveling to all the places I read about. My mother on the other hand was very adamant that I be pleasant, marry someone handsome, and give her as many grandchildren as I could bear.”

Zosia tried to smile, but it quickly waned. She dealt out the river and let out a sigh. “She saw me as an extension of herself – a chance to redo everything. That was what my psychologist and I deduced. Therapy, as it would seem, did far more for my mental health than the drugs and sex parties.” Zosia prepared to flip her hand, looking at Carol expectantly.

“Huh.” Carol clicked her tongue. “I get it. Trust me, I know all about mommy issues.”

They flipped their cards, and Zosia came out on top once more. Carol grumbled as she swept the cards back over to herself, insisting on shuffling once more. Zosia let her have her false sense of control whilst she leaned on her elbows and thought up her next question.

“How did your parents hurt you?”

Carol furrowed her brows. “Pardon?”

“When we were… ‘postcoital’ as you put it, you said you were done letting your parents hurt you.” Zosia spoke very carefully. “I was just curious how exactly they’ve hurt you.”

Carol delt out the cards, thinking it over with a scowl. Some part of her wanted to open up – to finally get that weight off her chest – but on the other hand, she had grown quite accustomed to the load. If she were to tell any living soul about those dark times, Zosia would be at the top of the list. But to burden her with the weight when there was already so much on her mind? It almost felt cruel.

“I’m sorry, Carol. You don’t have to answer if you aren’t comfortable.” Zosia bowed her head, checking her hand.

Carol drummed her fingers on the counter, finding the courage to divulge just an ounce. Enough so she could take a breath.

“They… they sent me to this place called Camp Freedom Falls.” Even just saying the name of the place out loud made her throat dry. “I’m sure it’s shut down now, that would have been… ’88? ’89? I don’t know. It was all just one big blur anyway…”

The card game had been forgotten as Zosia listened attentively. “You’re upset they sent you to summer camp?”

The question came from a genuine desire to understand, but the wording set Carol off in a way she herself hadn’t even expected.

“It wasn’t fucking summer camp. Summer camp is where you go horseback riding and make friendship bracelets. This was psychological and physical torture while you pray the gay away.” She simmered down slightly, but it didn’t stop her from spewing. “You recite your virtues every morning, group therapy all day, and individual counseling with the pastor for those who were particularly afflicted.”

She gazed off, recalling all of the things she still had nightmares about. “I got a lot of counseling on how wrong and sinful my desires were. And when I was a real troublemaker, they’d put me in solitary confinement…” She swallowed hard before continuing. “It was just a shed with bars on the windows, and a bucket to piss in. They’d send one of the kids to bring you food and dump your bucket, and that was it. You were completely alone, treated like an animal…” She shuttered, recalling those long, long nights. “…worse than an animal…”

A staccato beep from the oven broke Carol of her dissociative trance. She hurried over, donned her oven mitts, and quickly pulled out the lemon cake. If it weren’t for the timer, she would have completely forgotten it. She sat it on the counter and peeked at the edges, finding them to be a delightful golden brown.

“Third times a charm!” She chirped, turning back to Zosia proudly. Her elation wasn’t returned.

Zosia was crying.

Carol herself was thrown off kilter. It took her a beat to try and extrapolate why the perfect lemon cake would cause her to sob silently to herself. Carol slowly doffed her mitts and spoke carefully.

“Or we could skip the cake…”

Zosia approached, tears streaming down her face, and she pulled her into a hug. Carol wasn’t exactly sure how to navigate the unexpected outburst, so she just hugged right back, rubbing comforting circles over her sweater and searching for the right thing to say. Thankfully, Zosia spoke first, her voice wavering as she clutched her tightly.

“You never should have had to endure that, Carol. I – I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

With the passage of time and the compartmentalization of her feelings, thinking about Camp Freedom Falls usually just made her numb now. She used to cry about it, just like how Zosia was crying now. But tears never made things fair, nor did they remove that little voice that was implanted in her head from the relentless psychological torture. It was easier to push it down. She should have known Zosia was far too empathetic to just swallow all of it.

“I didn’t mean to ruin the game,” Carol mumbled. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Zosia squeezed her tighter. “No. I’m glad you told me. You shouldn’t have to carry that alone.”

Carol sighed, and allowed herself to melt into the hug. Compressed against her, Zosia smelled like home and felt like something sturdy to lean on. The wound was so old, she forgot how ugly it looked from the outside. It was no wonder Zosia was desperate to stitch her back together. In a flash, it started to ache, and Carol pulled back before her eyes could water.

“I’ve uh, got something to go with the cake,” Carol announced as she slowly peeled Zosia off of her and walked to the fridge. “I know it’s probably not exactly the same as it was in your childhood, but…” She pulled out a small tub of mango ice cream. “Why not make some new fond memories?”

----------------------------------------

The cake and ice cream did wonders to lift both of their spirits. Zosia had more stories to tell of trouble she got into in her childhood, and Carol had plenty to share as well. Camp Freedom Falls was always such a taboo subject, there was a slight relief to getting it off her chest, even if it wasn’t the whole story. All in due time.

The night was growing late, and naturally, Zosia inquired about the sleeping arrangement. Carol forced a pleasant expression as she reluctantly led her to her room. She wasn’t sure what she expected from Zosia as she showed off her quarters. She knew it would feel weird – which it did – but beyond that, she had no idea how anything would pan out.

Zosia stalked up, examining the fresh linens for a beat. She traced her fingers along the embroidery on the comforter. It was gentle and meticulous. Satisfied, she spun around and suddenly flopped back onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. She spread her arms out like a snow angel, basking in all the room her full size bed failed to provide.

“Carol…” she said in that long, drawn out whine that drove her crazy. “Why have you been hiding this from me? Your bed is the best.”

She couldn’t even answer the rhetorical question with a joke. Her chest tightened unexpectantly at the sight, and her whole body grew rigid. The sudden reaction was completely involuntary, and it made her all the more confused. She found herself rubbing her shoulder, forcing the muscles to relax.

Zosia sat up, a lazy smile on her softened features. “I have a feeling that you’ll still wrap yourself around me, despite all the extra room. That is… if I don’t have you wrapped around my fingers by the end of the night.” She winked.

Her voice was weak. She couldn’t even entertain the flirtatious comment. “Y-Yeah, probably.”

The always perceptive Zosia picked up on the shift in the room immediately. Her smile dissipated as she sat up, gingerly scooting up to the edge of the bed. Soft yet concerned, her eyes flitted over Carol’s features for any indication into her insecurities. Her gaze landed on something just over Carol’s shoulder, and worry quickly dissolved into understanding. Carol followed her gaze, and turned to see a photograph of her and Helen.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” Carol quickly plucked the frame off of the wall, the offending side concealed tightly against her chest. “I meant to take it down.”

Zosia was at her side in an instant, her hand on the edge of the picture frame. She gently, yet firmly, pried it out of her grasp. Everything about Zosia’s presence disarmed her, so Carol let go, and allowed her to gaze at the apparition.

“So, this is Helen?”

Carol nodded. It only just occurred to her that she had never seen Helen before.

“She’s beautiful,” Zosia admired, her smile returning. “I can see why you were smitten by her.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know how she fell for someone like me.” Carol awkwardly laughed, but it did little to ease the tension in her body. Showing your girlfriend a picture of your dead wife was going to be awkward no matter what. Her only solace was knowing that Zosia wasn’t bothered by the way Carol’s grief lingered. “That was in Chicago at this romance author meetup she dragged me to.”

“Did you travel a lot?”

“Oh, all the time.” Carol thought for a beat, lost in that ever subduing gaze. “Did you want to see more pictures?”

Zosia nodded enthusiastically, then paced to the nail protruding from the wall. She gently hung the picture frame, lining up the edges with the lines of dust marking its permanent resting place.

Carol led Zosia to the chaise on the other side of the room. They both sat, knees bumping as Carol scrolled through her camera roll on her phone. She didn’t find herself looking through it very often anymore.

“Here was our trip to Maui a few years ago,” Carol said, showing off the beachside photos. “I got this horrible fucking sunburn with blisters all over my shoulders. It was seriously the worst pain imaginable. Even just wearing a shirt was like hell.”

Zosia scrolled through the photos of the two women posing with drinks, resting under verandas, and walking along white sand beaches. “And I’m guessing you didn’t listen when Helen told you to put on sunblock?”

Carol snatched her phone back and cocked her jaw. “You two would’ve gotten along great…” she mumbled as she scrolled to another trip. “This was in Norway. We stayed in a hotel made of ice. The walls, the floors, even the bed was ice. The whole entire thing – just one giant block of ice,” she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. She still wasn’t sure why she ever agreed to it.

“I didn’t know you liked to travel,” Zosia said with a curious quirk in her brow.

“Helen liked to travel,” Carol clarified, nostalgia making her voice softer. “I was just happy to be with her.”

She leaned back, letting herself sink into the cushion. Her thumb paused above a photo of Helen standing at the edge of a frozen lake, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes wide with excitement. She was having the time of her life, despite Carol’s many, many grievances. A reoccurring theme, it would seem. There were a few more trips she passed as she scrolled to more recent photos. The last one of Helen was from a couple weeks before her passing, as she fretted over her flower garden. It was overrun with weeds by the end of the summer.

Carol realized as she scrolled to the end that she didn’t have a single picture with Zosia. Nothing from school, the fundraiser, their date, nothing. No proof that they were ever more than coworkers sharing a classroom. Carol swiped over to the camera without hesitation.

“You want to take a picture together?”

Zosia’s face lit up. “I’d love to.”

She leaned in close, a big smile at the ready. Carol held her phone out at arm’s length and fussed with her hair, then posed and snapped the photo. Before she could lower her arm, Zosia turned and pressed her lips against her cheek, eyes fluttering shut. She lingered, waiting for the sound of the shutter. Carol’s heart skipped a beat. Romantic displays in public were one thing, but capturing something so intimate felt forbidden. She hesitated for a moment, letting her inhibitions go, then clicked the button once again.

Zosia turned back, excited to see how the photos turned out, and Carol relinquished her phone. She was far too occupied with the turmoil taking place inside of her. Because out of all of the vacations, book tours, and quiet nights in, there wasn’t a single photograph depicting her and Helen as lovers.

There weren’t any cheek kisses, hand holding, or even cuddling captured on Carol’s phone or stashed in photo albums. Even the photos from their courthouse marriage looked like two friends signing a lease together. That’s all they were in the public eye. An author and her manager. But in private, Helen loved her like a sick dog. Loved her enough to put up with her complaining, her pessimism, and her alcoholism. Loved her when tensions were high and feelings were raw. When no one was looking. When everyone was looking.

Now, the only proof of Helen’s love resided in Carol’s memory. The type of romance and undying devotion that history books would boil down to a friendship. No one would know Helen was more than her manager – she was her muse. A manager could never haunt her house like this.

Carol felt that tightness in her chest once more. That uneasy feeling she couldn’t place when Zosia was laid out on the fresh sheets, beside the bare nightstand. She finally understood it now.

She was trying to let Helen go, and her heart was holding on as tight as it could.

Zosia was so blissfully unaware. So enamored with every scrap of vulnerability Carol offered her, yet so far from what was festering at her core. She hadn’t even shared the worst parts of Camp Freedom Falls. The parts she herself refused to dwell on, in hopes of the memories fading. Zosia didn’t know about the effigy that she had so casually flopped on, or the fact that Carol nearly drank herself to death every night for a month. Zosia, with her compassion and patience truly was an angel. She loved Carol enough to be disowned by her entire family and take a chance on a stubborn asshole from Albuquerque. This deepening relationship between them could never be remembered as friendship between coworkers. Zosia deserved more than that. She deserved everything.

Carol came to her own resolve, as she wordlessly retrieved her phone and swiped back to the camera. She took Zosia by the jaw; soft, sweet, and unexpected. Grief couldn’t stop Carol from kissing her, slow and deep. The way they always did. The way she wanted to remember kissing Zosia. The camera shuttered once, twice, three times. Carol pulled her in closer and held her tighter. She kissed Zosia so passionately, no one could ever mistake it for anything other than love, then she snapped one last photo.

Zosia was breathless as they parted, eyes wide and pupils even wider. For once, it would seem Carol had rendered her speechless.

“Think I got some good ones,” Carol said, her eyes only slightly damp.

Zosia cracked a smile. “I think I blinked – let’s do it again.”

She let out a chuckle, which was strange, because her bedroom hadn’t been subjected to laughter in a very long time. A comfortable silence fell between them as Zosia ran her fingers up and down Carol’s arm, watching her expression closely. She leaned down, giving Carol a peck on the cheek.

“Thank you for letting me in.” Zosia lowered her voice, muted enough so the spirits couldn’t hear. “We don’t have to sleep in here if you don’t want to. I’m fine camping out in the living room or going back to my place if you like. My bed is always open.”

Carol didn’t let herself sit on it for too long. She knew she’d talk herself out of it. “I want you in my bed. Really, I do.”

Zosia smiled and kissed her once more. “As you wish.”

The nights at the Sturka residence had been quiet for so long, it was strange hearing someone else walking around. Even more bizarre was brushing her teeth in synchrony with someone once again. Zosia was aloof to the unusuality of it all, never even sparing a glance at the long abandoned toothbrush Carol had neglected to throw out. She washed her face with her own travel sized tube of cleanser, ignoring Helen’s special facewash collecting dust. She took her nightly pills, never even stopping to read the labels on Helen’s that still rested by the sink. In no way did Zosia colonize the space. She just coexisted.

When it finally came time to slip under the covers, Zosia waited for one final confirmation that she was truly welcome in Helen’s side of the bed. Carol granted permission with a wave of her hand, and Zosia gingerly accepted it. As she sunk into the mattress, Carol let out a heavy sigh. She forgot how nice the orthopedic bed was. Her counterpart settled in right beside her, an arm loosely looped around her. They had slept beside each other a handful of times. It shouldn’t have felt any different. And yet…

Carol nuzzled up into Zosia’s chest, latching around her tightly. All day she had been fighting the urge, but as she laid there, her guarded heart finally bare, a tear slipped out. Then came another. And another. Before she knew it, she was sobbing into Zosia’s night shirt.

They laid like that for a long time, until Carol had devolved into nothing but sleepy sniffles. Zosia had fallen asleep already. She could tell from the way her breathing had changed, and her thumb had ceased its circles on her back. Carol didn’t mind. She knew the medicine made her tired, and either way, just her warm body was enough of a comfort. After all, it was that warm body next to her and Zosia’s soft snores that ended up finally lulling her to sleep.

Her sleep was surprisingly restful. Far more fulfilling than it had been in months. When Carol woke in the morning, she was disoriented from her deep slumber, and she all but forgot the events of last night. As she came to and collected herself, she thought she saw a ghost. Because for a brief moment, as she caught sight of that swath of brunette hair, dappled in the hazy morning light, she was convinced Helen was laying beside her.

Chapter Text

It was unusual for Koumba to come to Carol for advice. It had only happened one other time, when he was purchasing feminine hygiene products for Shannon, and he called her cluelessly. So, Koumba wanting advice on his lecture material for the semester was particularly odd. Not only that, but his syllabus was rather rigorous. A far cry from the laid back professor she once knew him to be.

Carol read the lengthy list of objectives, then handed his syllabus back. “I don’t know, those works can be difficult for students to get through, even in English. And then having them translate it all on top of that? I don’t know…” She perched her glasses atop her head and leaned against the desk, arms folded. “What’s gotten into you anyway? Since when do you care about teaching more than the bare minimum?”

Koumba was more solemn than usual, and his attire less colorful, like a wilting flower. “Is it so wrong for me to care about my career?”

“Not wrong, just… out of character.”

“Well, let’s just say I’m focusing on my aspirations,” he huffed, holding his head high. “Just like you, I’m finished with women. It would seem the romance of language has led me astray…”

Carol only then realized she never did get him caught up on everything with Zosia. She had been far too busy making up for lost time, and making out in Zosia’s office before they started their first day back.

Carol cleared her throat, stifling the flashbacks that were sure to make her hot and bothered. “You know that’s not what ‘Romance Language’ means, right?”

Koumba scoffed, clutching his syllabus close. “Who here is the one teaching a Romance language? Moi.”

“Can you even name the major Romance Languages?”

Koumba started listing them off with an air of arrogance, but Carol was barely listening. The classroom door flew open, and Professor Rybak scurried up to the desk in a hurry, stealing all of her attention. It was only her second semester teaching at UNM, and she was still so eager to make a good impression.

Her alarm had gone off far too early for Carol’s taste. She had her hair styled and makeup done whilst Carol was still fighting the coffee maker in her underwear. Carol didn’t see the point in making a big fuss about the first day anymore. She liked to set the bar at a comfortable height, so she just threw on a green cardigan and a pair of slacks that were a little crumpled from being in her stay-over bag. Despite Zosia’s head start, she still lagged behind while Carol waited patiently at the door, two thermoses in hand.

Everything with Zosia had only grown deeper over the duration of winter break. Carol still found herself staying at Zosia’s more often than not, but it was nice to not be afraid of her own bed. There was room for someone else in her life again, and it felt good to have that space filled. It also helped that they were still in a honeymoon phase of sorts. Both of them had a hard time keeping their hands to themselves, and that morning before the first day of school was no exception. Zosia was running behind, but she still made time to swap some steamy kisses with Carol in her office, careful not to smudge her lipstick too much.

As she sauntered into the classroom in that plum colored dress that fit her just right, Carol couldn’t help but stare. She breezed right past her and Koumba, spreading her teaching materials out on the desk. The waft of her perfume made Carol’s heart flutter. It was almost embarrassing just how infatuated she had become with her. She wished they could just cancel class and fog up Zosia’s office all day.

“Are you listening to me?”

Carol perked up. “Huh? Yeah.”

Koumba’s eyes narrowed. He repeated himself, nonetheless. “French, Spanish, Italian, and Romanian.”

Her smug demeanor quickly returned. “You’re missing one.”

“No I’m not.”

Carol turned to her lover expectantly. “You want to tell him what language he’s missing?”

Zosia shuffled papers about, clearly occupied. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure? It’s Portuguese.” Carol furrowed her brows. “I thought you were fluent in Portuguese.”

She shook her head, rooting around in a drawer for her misplaced stapler.

“Really? You spent all that time in Brazil,” Carol countered. “You mean to tell me you didn’t pick up any Portuguese while you were down there teaching?”

“The language barrier was… irrelevant.” Zosia glanced to Carol, her suggestive expression saying far more than her sparse words. She quickly perked up and smiled at Koumba. “But I do have to agree with my mentor on this one. Portuguese is a Romance Language.”

Koumba might have been a little dense, but he wasn’t dumb. He looked between the two women, connecting the dots that weren’t so carefully camouflaged. “Of course you’d agree with her, she’s fucking you.”

Carol’s eyes widened. Her knee-jerk reaction was to outright deny the accusation, but Koumba knew just how close the two professors were. All she could do was lower her tone and hope he felt some compassion for her. His heartbreak had made him bitter, but hopefully it hadn’t made him cruel enough to sabotage Carol and Zosia’s reputations.

“Keep your voice down,” she warned. “I just got my job back, I don’t want rumors spreading around.”

“If you don’t want rumors, you shouldn’t make those eyes at each other. Or better yet, don’t show up to work with her lipstick on your cheek.” Koumba tucked his syllabus under his arm and prepared to leave. “Thank you for your input, Carol. It was completely useless.”

He stormed out, closing the classroom door behind him rather loudly. The bang echoed through the room, and the two professors sat in silence for a moment. Carol absently rubbed at her cheek with her sleeve. Were they really that obvious? Koumba had only been around them for a few minutes, and he immediately pieced together that their relationship had been more than just mended. Carol’s fears aside, the college frowned upon interdepartmental relationships.

“Is it really that obvious?” Carol asked.

Zosia finished stapling some packets together, all around aloof. “It wasn’t my intention for it to be so obvious. I only wanted to leave a small mark.”

It took her a beat to realize Zosia was talking about the lipstick on Carol’s cheek. It was bizarre, given that she was the one who had attentively wiped the smears off of Carol’s neck with a makeup wipe.

“You left it on purpose?”

Her hands stilled as she caught Carol’s eyes. “I wanted to leave you with a reminder. So you don’t forget who you belong to.”

Carol’s cheeks grew hot, a mixture of her being flustered and a deep affection stirring inside her. Because she loved the way Zosia claimed her for her own, and was completely and entirely embarrassed by how she ached for it. Carol swallowed hard. In the case of their relationship being obvious, the lipstick on her cheek mattered little when Carol flustered at the slightest provocation from Professor Rybak. It was just like what Zosia had said in one of their more intimate moments. She gave herself away.

Zosia offered a small, mischievous smile. “I suppose I’ll have to leave it somewhere more intimate next time.” She walked right past Carol, sitting out her packets at the soon-to-be-occupied seats. “Koumba seemed to be rather harsh about it though.”

Carol followed behind her like a puppy, hands stuffed in her pockets. “Yeah, he says he’s given up on love and that he’s focusing on his career,” Carol scoffed, as if she hadn’t claimed the exact same thing only a few weeks ago while on a bender. “Really, I think the guy just needs to get laid.”

Zosia hummed as she moseyed along the lines of desks. “I hate to see him so heartbroken. Perhaps you could give Shannon a call? See if things could be mended?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. I talked to her a few days ago and apparently she’s back with her ex-husband again.” She trilled her lips. “I don’t even think the divorce went all the way through, and here she is running right back.”

“The heart is a fickle thing,” Zosia concurred. “I know I’ve done my fair share of reigniting old flames.”

Carol stopped in her tracks. “You have?”

Zosia stopped too. She might not have been fluent in Portuguese, but she was fluent in Carol’s insecurities. She gave her worrywart’s hand a squeeze, offering her a gentle smile. “You’re the only thing I run towards, my love.”

Carol registered it immediately. It was a Wycaro quote – one of Lucasia’s to be specific. When Raban had been lost on the Casperiam Islands for a fortnight, in the ever twisting and poisonous jungle. Lucasia was the only one to brave it all to retrieve him. He begged her to run for safety, but she loved him too much to leave.

“You’re the only thing I run towards.”

It was then revealed that Lucasia had stolen the temporal compass, thus giving her the ability to freeze time. Carol wished she could have stopped time in that moment, and held her hand a little longer. She wished she could have kissed her, earning more lipstick swatches down her neck, across her chest, and just past her navel. She wished she could have used the cessation of time to paint a mural of Zosia on the wall, forever commemorating her grandeur. She could have written a five-part series about nothing but the sound of her voice. She could have told her mother about her.

But alas, Carol couldn’t freeze time. All she could do was watch as the classroom door creaked open, and Zosia’s hand quickly slipped from her grasp. No longer were they lovers with scars only the other could find beautiful. They were professors who shared a classroom.

---------------------------------

There was a gentle rapping on the door, pulling Carol out of the zone. It wasn’t her office hours, but then again, it was the first day of the semester, and new students were slow to catch on. She finished the sentence she was typing, then called out for them to enter. To her surprise, it wasn’t a student at all.

“I was waiting for you,” Zosia said as she poked her head in, two lunchboxes in hand.

Carol quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. Her lunch break started ten minutes ago.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I completely lost track of time.” Carol removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Apparently she had also forgotten to blink while staring at her computer.

Zosia let herself in and closed the door. She handed Carol her lunch as her eyes wandered to the document that had her so enraptured. “A last minute lesson plan?”

“No, actually. I was writing.”

Zosia’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You’re writing again?”

She smiled bashfully as she unpacked her lunch. “Wycaro, yeah. I had an idea and just started filling up the page. Then suddenly, it’s lunch and my eyes ran dry. So yeah, I’m writing again.” She nodded, pride replacing her trepidation.

Zosia sat on the futon, still buzzing. “Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m just so excited to have something new of yours to read. And another Wycaro…” She stared off in a dreamy like state, presumably fantasizing about the finale. Zosia quickly became cognizant of her fangirling and cleared her throat, distracting herself with her lunch. “That’s only if you want to share it with me, of course. Absolutely no pressure.”

Carol found her infatuation with her writing adorable. Underneath it all, Zosia was a bit of a nerd, and that made her all the more endearing. Carol thought for a beat, then stood from her chair, and welcomed Zosia to sit. “Do you want to read chapter one?”

The answer was a resounding yes. How could it have been anything else? Carol pulled up the spare chair for student consultations and sat right beside her. She anxiously slurped her noodles as she watched Zosia devour every last word, savoring the subtext and similes. Carol had never been good at receiving critiques, which was ironic, given that her entire career as a writer was based on people’s opinions. Usually Helen was there as a buffer for Carol’s fragile ego, but sitting beside Zosia, all she could do was wait impatiently for her unfiltered thoughts. She was sure to have plenty. The final installment was highly anticipated, and Carol had thrown in a curveball.

They both had finished their meals by the time Zosia finished the chapter. She pushed back from the desk, an expression of awe on her face. Carol was at the edge of her seat, leg bouncing.

“Don’t leave me hanging.” She laughed nervously.

“Raban… is a woman now,” Zosia uttered, a smile stretching across her face.

Carol took that as confirmation that she welcomed the change. She could finally breathe again.

“Long overdue,” Carol confirmed. “My original version of him was a her, but I talked myself out of it. But I figured, now… why not?”

She nodded along, still in awe. “It makes sense… so are you just going to retcon it?”

“No need, it can happen canonically.”

Zosia launched into a flurry of theories, hypothesizing how Raban’s transition could tie in. Carol listened to her ramble for a moment, solidifying her own hypothesis about Zosia being a nerd.

“I was thinking of the Caverns of – “

“The Caverns of Aevalor!” Zosia exclaimed. “But, weren’t those lost to time?”

Carol shrugged. “Well sure, but what is time to someone like Raban? They just have to get their hands on Captain Virgil’s – “

“Temporal compass!” She gasped before being rendered speechless.

“So, you like it?”

“Carol… I love it.”

Carol grinned, excitement lighting up her eyes. She thought for sure her writer’s block was indefinite, but now she had all sorts of ideas swirling around her mind. And it was all thanks to her muse.

“You’ve inspired me,” she admitted. “The more I hide who I am, the more it all seems lost to time. So, I’m going to write what I’ve always wanted to write, and if people don’t like it then…”

“Fuck them,” Zosia finished for her.

Carol couldn’t help but laugh. She really was starting to rub off on her.

“You know…” she looked Zosia up and down. The thought had occurred many times, but she had never said it out loud. “You kind of look like how I imagined Raban as a woman.”

“Oh really?” Zosia tucked her hair behind her ear, flattered as ever. “Perhaps all this time you just knew I’d come along. How serendipitous.”

Carol gazed upon her like a work of art. “Kismet, they call it.”

The lunch hour was over, and Carol had a class that was about to start. For how hard she had worked to get her job back, a small part of her wished she could quit and just travel the world with Zosia. It was a lovely fantasy, but that was all it could be. A fantasy.

Carol’s day dreaming was swiftly interrupted by her phone buzzing on the desk. She expected it to be a spam call, as the only other person she ever called was sitting right next to her. But the caller ID popped up with a familiar name, and Carol’s heart skipped a beat.

It was Laxmi.

Her eyes flicked between Zosia and the phone. Clearly, Zosia had remembered the name, judging by the way her smile faltered. Her posture became more rigid as she waited for Carol to move. Alas, she was frozen solid.

“Answer it,” Zosia urged.

Carol blinked a few times. “Answer it?”

She softened ever so slightly. “I’m not here to police your friendships, Carol. I think it’s good that you’re branching out and meeting new people. So, go on. Talk to her.”

She didn’t budge. “This feels like a trap.”

Zosia let out a chuckle and shook her head, fully relenting. She handed the phone to Carol. “Answer it. Please.”

Cautiously, she accepted her phone. Slowly she slid her finger across the screen, eyes glued to Zosia the entire time. She brought it to her ear, mumbling a meek greeting.

“Speaker,” Zosia ordered.

Carol fumbled for a moment as she put the phone on speaker, holding it between them.

“Oh Carol,” Laxmi sighed into the phone. “May I bend your ear a moment? I’ve got some things I need to get off my chest.”

Carol’s eyes were locked on Zosia and her unreadable expression. “Y-Yeah go ahead.”

“You would not believe the horrible things going on at work. You remember that coworker of mine who crashed the car?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, it turns out he’s been pocketing opioids and selling them to the housekeeping staff!”

“Shit,” Carol scoffed. “That’s – that’s crazy. How’d they catch him?”

Laxmi launched into a long and convoluted story about the drug trafficking at her workplace. Carol listened as best she could, but she quickly became distracted as Zosia’s hand found her knee. She watched as those long fingers leisurely traced up the inseam of her slacks, inching up her thigh. Her eyes flicked back to Zosia’s, finding nothing but desire in her darkening pupils.

“… And then, they tried to blame me!” Laxmi exclaimed.

Carol’s voice wavered ever so slightly as Zosia started to encroach on the crotch of her slacks. “What? No way, you’re like the most anal out of all of them.”

“That’s exactly what I said…”

Once again, Laxmi continued her story as Carol continued to get more and more distracted. Her slacks were already pressed tight against her, so when Zosia drug her fingers across the taunt fabric, it made her shudder. There was a faint smile playing at her lips as she repeated the motion, making Carol squirm in her seat. Then, with a firm hand and a dangerous amount of eye contact, Zosia pressed the heel of her palm against her groin.

Her abdomen contracted involuntarily at the sensation, causing her to lean forward in her seat. Carol stifled the groan that tried so desperately to escape. The last thing she wanted was for Laxmi to hear her. But she didn’t dare try to stop the fondling. Between Zosia’s monthly visitor, Carol’s emotional barriers surrounding her bed, and the overall stress of the start of the school year, they hadn’t had a chance to be intimate beyond kissing. Not since Zosia practically jumped her during their movie night. Needless to say, the touch was more than welcome.

Zosia pressed in again, working at a steady pace. Carol’s breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed the whimper on her tongue. She twitched and writhed in her seat as Zosia kneaded her like dough beneath her palm. There was pressure in all the right places, and Carol gripped the edge of the desk, desperate to cling onto something. She just barely registered Laxmi asking her a question.

“H-Huh? Wha – ?” Carol stammered out.

“I said that’s why I’ll be in Albuquerque next week. Are you available? I will need a strong drink and someone just as miserable as me.”

“I’m – um…”

Carol was really struggling to focus on anything besides the arousing rubbing between her legs. She looked to Zosia, hoping she would just tell her how to respond. She was the one who had fucked the taste of Laxmi out of her mouth after all. Upon noticing Carol’s hesitation, there was a great deal of gratification on her sharp features. Zosia’s pace quickened ever so slightly as she smiled and nodded.

“Y-Yeah,” Carol puffed. “Yeah, I’m – I’m available… shit…”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and her chin fell to her chest. The heat, the friction, it was all becoming too much to bear. Zosia’s unoccupied fingers threaded up through Carol’s hair. She took a nice big handful, and pulled her head back up, forcing eye contact.

“Carol?” Laxmi said. “Are you alright? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“I…” Carol was too lost in that darkened gaze to think of anything at all. Suddenly, Zosia’s hand stilled, and just enough blood reached Carol’s brain to properly reply. “I gotta go Laxmi, I’ll call you back.”

There wasn’t a chance for Laxmi to respond before Carol hung up and tossed her phone to the side haphazardly. She didn’t care about how it clattered to the ground. All that mattered was Zosia attending the hot mess that was pooling in her pants. Carol leaned forward, lips puckered and sights set on anywhere Zosia would let her kiss her. But despite her firm grip on Carol’s crotch, Zosia pulled back from the kiss, eyes narrowing playfully.

“You’re late for class, Ms. Sturka.”

She released the quivering mess of a professor, and rose from her seat, flattening out the wrinkles in her dress. Carol stuttered and stammered a moment before finally making a coherent complaint.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” she pleaded.

Zosia casually packed up her lunch, as if she hadn’t just been rubbing Carol off. “As much as I would love to bend you over your desk, I prefer the buildup over the release. It’s far more rewarding to take you when I know you’re desperate for it.” She stalked up and tugged Carol’s collar to the side. She leaned down and kissed her neck before bringing her lips to her ear, hot breath rolling down her face. “Don’t wipe that one off.”

Goosebumps radiated across her skin from her words alone. It certainly didn’t help the fact that Carol was still a trembling, needy mess. “I’m already desperate for it. You sure we can’t just do something quick? I won’t take long.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Zosia chuckled. She didn’t give it much thought before she clicked her tongue and gave Carol a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “Let’s aim for after Laxmi’s visit. I’m sure we’ll have lots of things to work out. In the meantime, I expect you to wait for me. Don’t take the edge off. Practice some self-restraint. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Carol nodded before remembering to use her words. “Yes ma’am.”

And with that, Zosia left her hot, bothered, and dreading the next week of abstinence.

Chapter Text

Temptation. Carol had dealt with it plenty before. Usually, it manifested in the form of a cream filled doughnut after purging her cupboards of sugary sweets, or an ice cold beer after 30 days of sobriety. Cravings could be curbed, but it wasn’t a craving afflicting her now. It was a need.

Addiction. That was the only way to describe the desire clawing at Carol’s chest. All of those endorphins saturating her brain after months spent in a major depressive episode had reprogrammed her mind. Her muscles ached and her skin grew irritable the longer she went without Zosia’s touch. They had been sleeping in Zosia’s bed, but there wasn’t anything more than spooning and a few gropes here and there. Nothing lingered too long, and no kisses dipped below clothing. Just hot enough to keep her engine purring, but never enough to feel any sort of satisfaction. It was maddening.

How had she lived before Zosia? Carol had been completely shit-faced the entire time she was in Poland, and even that didn’t stop her from dreaming about Zosia’s hands around her waist, or her tongue against her breast. Even now, her drug of choice was right there, but she couldn’t even take a bump. She thought this challenge would be child’s play. It was torture.

Carol had endured most of the week by focusing on her writing. It was for the best. The publisher had been hounding her, and Val was growing tired of her emails being ignored. So, she took all of her impassioned energy and diverted it into her work. She somehow managed to write the entire first act by Thursday. Of course, the scenes turned out a lot more raunchy than she anticipated. Not even five pages in, Raban and Lucasia had already climaxed twice. She’d need to make some edits when she wasn’t so pent up.

Zosia definitely wasn’t helping either. She could just look at Carol a certain way and she’d be drooling like a dog. And Zosia knew it too. That’s why she sat right beside Carol at the staff meeting, letting their knees touch and shoulders bump. By the end of it, Carol was a jittery mess, cursing herself for her lack of decorum. She was the first one out of the room, beating even Koumba to the cafeteria afterwards.

A donut. That should distract her. She had a bit of a sweet tooth that she was trying to rein in, but at the moment, there were far more pressing issues. A donut wasn’t as good as sex, but it would have to do. She fished one out of the pastry display, eager to scurry back to her office and have a moment to herself before her Classic Literature lecture. Unfortunately, temptation found her before she could even leave the cafeteria line.

“Hmm, vanilla. I should have suspected as much,” Zosia hummed as she eased up beside her, plucking one for herself. “I think I’ll join you. A donut sounds lovely.”

Carol held her tongue as she paid for both of their treats and made a beeline for her office. Maybe if she didn’t look at her, she wouldn’t feel so jittery.

“It’s good to know the language department is finally addressing the holes in the roof,” Zosia said, easily keeping pace with her plaything. “It doesn’t rain often, but when it does, it pours. I’d hate for you to get wet while you’re lecturing. I can only imagine how distracting that could be.”

Carol didn’t play into the innuendo like she normally would. Her lips were sealed as she fumbled with the key to her office, letting herself in. Zosia, with that coy smile and aloof attitude, followed right behind and latched the door tight. Alone at last. But Carol knew better than to expect any kind of relief. Zosia was reveling in her unresolved hunger. Hunger that a donut did absolutely nothing to fill.

Carol sat at her desk, chomping away and paying Zosia no mind. It was similar to the times she had tried to go sober. She’d purge the alcohol from her cupboards, insisting that if it were out of sight, it would be out of mind. Of course, it never worked for long. She just hoped ignoring Zosia would work long enough to get her through tomorrow night.

“So, have you figured out what you and Laxmi are doing when she comes to town?” Zosia asked as she stalked up and leaned against the desk, ass perched tauntingly close to Carol’s plate.

Given the innocent nature of the question, Carol finally gave in and spoke to her. “We’re probably just going to go out for drinks. Well, she’ll drink. I’m trying to cut back, and besides I’ll have to drive home. I’ve still got 13 more days with my little buddy in the car.”

“Oh, that’s right. They’re taking the breath analyzer out.” Zosia smiled and rubbed Carol’s shoulder. “Hopefully, that’s the last we see of it.”

She subconsciously leaned into the reassuring touch. “Yeah, well, I’ve learned my lesson. No more drunken golfcart rides. Although, I still have court coming up too. You know, the whole fleeing and evading thing… so we’ll see if I even have a license when everything’s said and done.” She chuckled nervously.

“I hope so, otherwise Koumba will have to drive us both to work for a while.” Zosia laughed.

Carol didn’t find it nearly as funny. She made a quick mental note to give that shady lawyer with the good track record a call.

Zosia took a bite of her own donut, humming as she did so. Frosting coated her lips, and she licked it away with a languid lap of her tongue. “Why don’t you have Laxmi come over?”

“Come over?”

“Yes, to your house.” Zosia shrugged. “That way you won’t feel tempted. To drink, I mean. I could even come over too. You know, I could make us something to eat… see what she’s like...”

Carol caught on quick. “Are you worried about Laxmi and I being alone?”

“No, no, not at all.” Zosia laughed, although it felt a little forced. “I just want to meet her. Just to see… to see her.”

There was clearly some underlying motive behind Zosia’s desire to meet Laxmi in the flesh. It was one Carol couldn’t quite pinpoint. Zosia herself had always been cordial and compassionate. Even when Koumba was being a pig, she never really let him bother her. She never raised her voice or lost her temper. Yet Laxmi, a woman who was practically a stranger, made Zosia a little standoffish. Carol had made it clear that the drunken kiss wasn’t reciprocated, nor did it even mean anything to either of them. Hell, Carol barely even remembered it happening. Still, there was just something about Laxmi that got under her skin in a way no one else had.

“I can see if she wants to come over,” Carol said.

“Perfect.” Zosia smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Whatever feelings she harbored quickly disappeared as she tilted her head, gaze drifting to Carol’s lips. Her heart drummed in her chest as Zosia examined her closely.

“You’ve made a mess of yourself,” she purred as she reached out, dragging her thumb along Carol’s upper lip.

There was a smear of frosting she hadn’t noticed, and Zosia took the liberty of swiping it off. But she didn’t wipe it off on her napkin. She didn’t even suck the frosting from her own thumb with a wink like Carol had been expecting. The teasing was far more direct as she slowly pressed between Carol’s parted lips, making her taste it for herself. Pinching her jaw between her thumb and pointer finger, Zosia tilted Carol’s head up to look at her. Carol’s whole entire body pulsed.

“You look so much better with something in your mouth,” Zosia said, her voice entering that state it did when Carol was writhing beneath her. “Go on. I know you want to taste it.”

Carol did so without skipping a beat. She swirled her tongue around, lapping up all of the icing. A hard suck and a tease of her teeth, and Zosia was more than pleased with her eagerness. With her obedience. Carol’s desires she had been fending off all came flooding back. That flame in her lower stomach was reignited. The one she had been desperately trying to stamp out with distraction after distraction. But now, under Zosia’s thumb, she couldn’t hide from it anymore. She pulled back, begging the moment her thumb popped out of her mouth.

“Can you please just touch me already? Please? I mean, God, everything about you is an aphrodisiac, and I think I’m going a little insane.” Her bid for affection came out a bit more whiney than intended.

Zosia took her pleading words and that desperate look in her eyes into consideration. “I appreciate your patience, Carol. I really do." She held Carol by the jaw, forcing her focus once more. "You haven’t touched yourself, have you?”

She shook her head, eyes unblinking.

“I can tell. You’ve been rather agitated as of late. And avoiding me, it would seem.”

Carol’s eyes fell to the floor, and Zosia picked them right back up with a small shake of her hand, still firmly holding her by the jaw. “Eyes right here.” Carol clenched at the command, and Zosia continued with measured intensity. “I know I’ve been tempting you, my love. You’ve been very good for me, and I really want to reward your good behavior. With that in mind, I do believe I said you would be taken care of after Laxmi’s visit.”

“R-Right, but…”

“But?”

Carol swallowed hard. It was impossible to properly argue with her mind so fogged up. Her words got lost somewhere between that gaze burning into her, and those deft fingers holding her so securely.

“I certainly can’t force you to do this,” Zosia prefaced, her features relaxing with sincerity. “However, you doing it would please me, and we both know how much you love that.”

Carol’s cheeks flushed upon being so overtly called out. Sure, she had been writing again, cutting back on booze, and branching out for the sake of her own well-being. But she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a level of satisfaction she received from Zosia’s praises. Even out of the bedroom, Carol was desperate to appease her.

The tension was cut by a knock at the door. At the drop of a hat, Zosia released Carol and slipped back into the docile professor everyone knew her to be. She picked up her donut and flashed an appeasing smile before waltzing over to the futon.

It took Carol a moment to collect herself as she cleared her throat and fixed her collar. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Carol quickly came to the conclusion that a cosmic joke was being played on her. Because it was Jane, the associate from the sex shop, coming back to haunt her.

“Jane, what can I do for you?” Carol asked, praying she was there for a legitimate reason and not some form of blackmail.

She walked up to the desk, sliding a piece of paper across. “I want to transfer to your Classic Lit course. The lady at the enrollment office said I needed you to sign this paper so…”

Carol accepted the paperwork, but hesitated to sign it. “Are you sure you want to join mine? Professor Wagner does an excellent job, and I know his class is a little light this semester.”

Jane scoffed, unmoved by Carol’s attempted redirection. “Professor Wagner is a chauvinist. Besides, I think I’ll do much better in your class. You move me Professor Sturka.” She said almost mockingly.

“Professor Sturka is quite brilliant,” Zosia chimed in from her seat on the couch.

Jane hadn’t noticed her until just then. “Who are you?”

Zosia happily sat forward, extending her hand. “Zosia Rybak. I teach the ESL courses.

Jane didn’t shake it. “Zosia… huh, that sounds familiar…” she side eyed the professor taking an awfully long time to sign her transfer.

Carol’s heart sunk. Shannon and her big mouth.

Perhaps there was some ill intent behind the request after all. A good grade in exchange for sealed lips about Carol and Zosia’s alleged relationship. Of course, Carol could deny the claims, but Koumba had made it clear they weren’t very discreet with their affection.

Blackmail certainly wasn’t something to tread lightly on. Especially when it came to the fraternization between a seasoned professor and a newbie. The last thing she wanted was for Zosia to receive any kind of reprimanding, or heaven forbid, lose her job. So, Carol hid her displeasure behind a tightlipped smile, dug a pen out of her desk, and sealed her fate. She conceded to Jane’s skullduggery and handed her her trophy.

“Class starts at one o’clock, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

Jane accepted the paper with a coy smile. “So, how was the bachelorette party – “

“Alright,” Carol was up and out of her seat. After being mocked left and right, she couldn’t stand another minute of it. “I’ve got a meeting I’m late for, so if you don’t mind…” she ushered Jane out the door, closing it tightly behind her.

Zosia sucked a bit of frosting off her finger, head tilted conspicuously. “What bachelorette party?”

Carol let out a heavy sigh, dreading the falsified grades that laid ahead. “It’s a long story.”

------------------------------------

After a long day at work, Carol was buzzing for any sort of affection from her scrupulous girlfriend. It wasn't until after dinner - when they were clearing their plates, and their hips grazed - that Carol finally gave in to what her body was craving. Kissing was just about the only reprieve she was allowed, and she was going to make the most of it. Pinned between Zosia and the kitchen counter wasn’t an ideal place, but she was taking it anywhere she could get it. Teeth clacked, and lips were bitten in the frenzy. Even though the fervent kisses were only meant to tease her, they still tasted like the real thing. Like the promise of intimacy beyond her wildest dreams.

Carol couldn’t help but moan into Zosia’s mouth. It was impossible to curb her excitement, even though she knew it would ultimately go nowhere. As Zosia moved to Carol’s neck, her hand wiggled its way beneath her sweatpants. Gently, she cupped the heat radiating between her thighs, very clearly pleased at Carol’s overreaction. She bucked up into her hand, searching for any ounce of friction. But alas, Zosia withheld it.

“You’re evil…” Carol mumbled.

Zosia hummed, her lips pursed against her tepid skin. “Evil? Is that any way to speak to the woman with her hand down your pants?”

“C’mon,” Carol whined. “Don’t act like you don’t want this too. We could just get each other off really quick. I promise I won’t tell anyone we cheated,” she jeered.

Zosia gave a nice little nip before pulling away and pulling out her hand. “It’s only one more day, Carol. I’m sure you can hold out, my love.”

“How do you do it? How do you just…” she struggled to find the words. “How are you not crawling out of your skin right now? I mean honestly. I’m like a touch-starved moron, meanwhile you’re this – this android with an on and off switch. How are you so calm about everything? This is starting to feel one-sided at this point.”

Zosia tilted her head, brows furrowed. “You think I don’t desire you?”

“No… maybe…” she huffed, burying her head in her hands. “I’m just frustrated…”

Gently, she pulled Carol’s hands away from her face, leaning down to catch her eyes. “Carol, I’m doing all of this because I’m crazy about you.” She clicked her tongue. “Think of it like a donut. They’re delicious, especially for someone like you with a sweet tooth. But if you eat one every morning, it’s not as exciting. But if you hold off – “

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Carol snipped. “It’s supposed to feel better when we finally do it. It’s the whole chastity thing, right? You tease me just to deny me and make me more sexually frustrated.”

Zosia’s eyes narrowed slightly before she continued. “That’s one part of it. The other is power. Control. I feel the most gratified when you fully surrender to me. When you trust me with your body. To take care of you, to make you feel good, to tease you all week so I can finally unravel you like a nice little gift. I don’t turn my desire for you on and off, Carol. I just know when to apply the brakes. This is all at your pace, after all.”

Carol took a shaky, uneven breath. “And what if we went at your pace?”

Zosia raised a brow, but ultimately brushed off the idea. “That probably wouldn’t be for the best, Carol. You’re still learning what your limits are, and I’m still learning what you’re comfortable with. It’s a delicate process. I don’t want to scare you away when things are just starting to get good.”

“You won’t scare me.”

“Carol – “

“Just tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me all those things you think are gonna scare me. I’d rather you scare me off now than a few years down the line. I mean, it only makes sense, right? So what is it you’re so scared to tell me?”

Zosia gave it a moment of thought, her jaw cocked and eyes wandering. As she came to a resolve, her posture became more rigid, her voice solemn, and that her gaze became dangerously dark as it locked onto her.

“Fine. I want to make you cry.”

Carol scoffed, recalling the first time they had sex. “Ok, done.”

She slowly shook her head, something ominous lurking just beyond those beautiful doe eyes. “No. Not like that. I want to make you feel emotions you didn’t even know you were capable of. I want you to beg for me until you lose your voice. Until you’re sobbing. Until all you can say is my name. I want to break you, Carol. I want to mold you like clay beneath my hands, and leave my fingerprints on every surface.”

She swallowed hard, taking in Zosia’s words. The corners of her mouth twitched into an appeasing smile. “That’s supposed to scare me?” Her eyes flitted to her lips, only becoming more aroused with each passing moment.

Zosia leaned in a bit closer, her confidence gaining at Carol’s courage. “I want to tie you up. And I don’t mean handcuffs. I want to gag you, blindfold you, and restrain you so you can’t move a muscle. So you can’t pull away. All you can do is hear my voice, and feel my touch. You’ll be at my mercy, and I don’t plan on having much.”

A shiver ran down Carol’s spine. She nodded eagerly. “Good. That’s exactly where I want to be.”

Zosia’s eyes narrowed. She placed a hand on either side of Carol, pressing her further against the counter, and encroaching on her space. Carol was trembling as those parted lips ghosted up the column of her neck. Goosebumps followed the shiver racing down her spine, and she held as still as she could muster with her declining sanity. She held her breath in anticipation. A gentle peck against her ear, and Carol flinched. Zosia let out a laugh, dark and perverse. Her voice sank low, and the air between them became heavy.

“I want to see how much you can take. I want to see how many fingers I can fit in you, and then I want to fit one more. I want you to tell me you can’t take anymore, but then you do. Not because you want it. But because I want it. I want you so desperate to please me, you surpass your limits.”

Carol’s eyes fluttered shut and her knees started to wobble. The way she spoke with such depravity was only adding fuel to the raging inferno inside of her. She would take anything for Zosia.

“Maybe I will,” she rasped. The need in her voice was palpable.

Zosia hummed, the low note rattling in her ear. “And how much can I fit in your ass?”

Carol’s eyes fluttered open.

“W-Why would you want to put anything up there?”

All at once, Zosia took a deliberate step back. There was a hint of amusement on her lips, and that intensity – that which had nearly brought Carol to her knees – was all but gone. Zosia tilted her head and gave Carol a gentle pat on the cheek. “We’ll go at your pace, my love.”

“No, no, wait - !” Carol reached out for Zosia’s sweater, desperately trying to pull her back in. “Your pace was good! I just… I just don’t see why anything would be going up there. We’re both women so…”

Zosia narrowed her eyes, refusing to yield to Carol’s greedy hands. “No one’s ever played with your ass?”

She finally stopped tugging and slowly shook her head. It seemed rather obvious to Carol that there was no need to explore that cavern. As far as she was aware, anal was for the pleasure of the penetrator, not the other way around. It seemed like an unnecessary discomfort to be shoving anything up there.

Zosia clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Oh Carol… you’re really missing out. We’ll explore that later.”

“We could explore it now,” she said, putting on a brave face. She could bear something up her ass. Anything to goad Zosia into touching her and breaking this maddening tension. Her hands quickly found Zosia’s waist, terrified to let go. To let any amount of space between them. “You haven’t scared me off, I promise.”

There was a glint in her eyes. “That wasn’t even the half of it.”

Carol swallowed hard.

There was more. A lot more.

Her voice came out meek and desperate.

“So tell me the rest.”

The storm clouds looming in Zosia’s gaze dissipated as she quickly turned away. In a matter of seconds, she melted back down to Carol’s soft and loving girlfriend. Gently, she pried Carol’s hands from her hips. “All in due time. Go take a cold shower while I finish cleaning up dinner.”

Carol tried to argue, but Zosia kissed her complaints right off her lips. She gave her a gentle nudge out of the kitchen before returning to the all but forgotten dishes.

She wasn’t sure how much more teasing she could take, and Zosia wanted her to take more. Her desires were intense, but Carol wanted to give in – to surrender herself. She wanted to be Zosia’s, and bend to her every whim. God, she would have done just about anything to get any kind of relief for the pressure between her legs.

Carol trudged to Zosia’s bedroom, accepting her defeat. Zosia wasn’t going to touch her tonight. There was a twinkle in her eye. It was fleeting, but it was there. For a moment, Zosia might have considered it, but she was far too disciplined. She could bear the begging. Carol could only imagine how she had teased past lovers until they were pleading and desperate just like her. All those women Zosia broke until they were sobbing. It started to get under her skin a bit. What made Carol so different? Why was she stalling?

The dresser of drawers had been a makeshift host of Carol’s belongings. She kept a few outfits at Zosia’s, but was mindful not to take up too much of her space. The apartment was crowded enough as it was, and Carol didn’t want to make things even tighter. She could always sleep at her own house, but she tossed and turned all night without Zosia’s body beside her. Really, things would be easier if they just stayed at Carol’s house every night. The only issue was Rudy missing his mama. Maybe he’d just have to come with too, along with all of Zosia’s belongings. There was plenty of room in her house.

Carol fished out some clothes to sleep in. A shower would do little to distract from her insecurities about Zosia’s reluctance to let all of her desires out. Really, there was only one thing that could teleport her troubled mind to somewhere peaceful, but that activity was forbidden. Or at the very least, Zosia couldn’t know.

A dumb idea popped into Carol’s mind right in that moment. She could just take the edge off really quick. And it would be quick, judging by the way she throbbed at just the thought of touching herself. She could make it even quicker if she borrowed a toy.

Carol’s hands moved on their own accord, drifting to the second drawer from the bottom. She herself had never gazed inside. Not that it was off limits by any means – surely Zosia would have encouraged her to explore – but it felt like an invasion of privacy. Now, in her antsy and impatient state, her shaky morals were out the window. She quietly slid the drawer open, praying the running sink was louder than whatever she selected.

Her eyes widened at the sight. She had expected some interesting items for sure, but some of them looked more akin to torture devices. From the more familiar objects, there was the flogger, red rope in a neat little bundle, a blindfold, a ball gag, and some kind of dog collar. She picked up the thick band and turned it over in her hands. At least it wasn’t a shock collar. It was made of dark, embellished leather, and the inside was lined with something akin to silk. Carol’s curiosity got the best of her, and she read the tag dangling off the front.

Mine.

Carol’s eyes widened at the full body throb she underwent, and a shaky exhale quietly released from her dry lips. Her reaction to the haunting phrase was purely visceral. She was already aroused to the point of delirium. It was all too much, as her mind was overcome with thoughts she couldn’t form, much less fathom. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if it was lustful hallucination or not. But as she looked back down, that word just stared right back at her, eternal.

Mine.

That thought of it being wrapped around her throat made her drop the collar back into the drawer and slam it shut. She swallowed thickly, fighting off the excitement buzzing in her fingertips. No time to unpack all of that. Surely Zosia was almost finished with the dishes. Carol crouched down, deciding to check the larger bottom drawer. That had to have been where the vibrators were hidden. Carol listened for a beat, body pulsing and hands shaky. The sink was still running in the kitchen. She had time.

Carol’s eyes widened at the contents. There was just about every size of dildo imaginable, some even unimaginable. Ones with curves, ridges, twists, and even curvaceous hunks of silicone that didn’t look like they were meant to go in any hole. There was a long chain of beads, a variety of plugs, and so much lube. Carol was quickly becoming overwhelmed with her wild imagination.

She spotted a back corner of the drawer that hosted the vibrators. It was a relief. She just needed something simple. It wasn’t going to take much. A few moments of digging, and she located a basic one with only three buttons. Perfect.

Carol slowly slid the drawer shut and rose to her feet.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Her heart just about exploded as she jerked her head around. Zosia was leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, rather unamused. The water was still faintly running in the kitchen sink, and Carol quickly came to realize it was done intentionally. Zosia had been standing there the whole time.

Carol clutched the toy in her hand, her cheeks flushing with a cocktail of embarrassment and guilt. She stammered, searching for a plausible excuse, but her mind was blank. Zosia arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

“I won’t stop you, Carol. You want to fuck yourself? Go ahead.”

Carol swallowed hard. This was most certainly a trap, but her whole body was screaming for it.

“And what if I did?”

Zosia shifted her weight off the frame. She stalked up, standing tall over her. Sometimes she forgot just how much taller Zosia was. How imposing she could be.

“Then I’d have to punish you.”

There wasn’t an ounce of amusement in her voice. She meant every word of it. Carol couldn’t hold that searing gaze. All it did was remind her of Zosia’s desires. How she wanted to break her until she was nothing. How Carol would be at her mercy. At the present moment, there wasn’t even a suggestion of mercy radiating from her.

It should have terrified Carol, but admittedly, this darker side of Zosia turned her on more than it scared her off. Her dominance over Carol. The power – the control. But as Carol stood there in her commanding presence, something told her Zosia secretly wanted her to crack. To give in to desire, and break the rules. It’s what Zosia was so patiently waiting for.

She wanted to punish Carol.

The game they were playing became crystal clear in that moment, and Carol wasn’t about to lose. If she wasn’t allowed any sort of release, she certainly wasn’t going to give Zosia the pleasure of punishing her. Zosia was betting high, and Carol decided to go all in.

“Then I guess I better not.” She handed Zosia the vibrator, hand still trembling and voice wavering. Her bravado was held up by toothpicks as she found the courage to look her in the eye. “I can wait.”

Zosia’s fingers curled lightly around Carol’s wrist, her grip just tight enough to convey ownership. The air between them was charged, almost electric. Zosia leaned in, her voice low and unwavering. “I appreciate your patience, Carol. But my patience is wearing thin. I need you to be mindful of that moving forward."

Carol called her bluff, praying she would crack. “Then why don’t you quit being an asshole and just fuck me already?”

Zosia’s expression hardened, and the corner of her eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Oh, I plan to. I don’t reward bratty behavior.”

The words sunk like a rock as Carol’s bravado came crashing down. After hearing Zosia’s desires and seeing the arsenal of toys at her disposal, there was no telling what she had planned. Carol tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat made it impossible.

A slow, dark smile spread across Zosia’s lips. It held no warmth, only promise. “I’ll remember this. We will have a lot to work on when you’re at my mercy.”

She turned on her heel, guiding Carol toward the bathroom. At the door, Zosia paused and pressed a lingering kiss to Carol’s lips. It was gentle and disarming - an olive branch of sorts. There was love behind her harshness. And while the scene was over, Zosia’s promise remained.

“I’ll remember this.”

Zosia tucked Carol’s hair behind her ear, her sweetness returning as she whispered, “Take your shower.”

Chapter Text

“I thought Flagstaff was the worst place on earth. But now, I would say Albuquerque is a top contender.”

Carol smiled and held the door open. “It’s good to see you too, Laxmi.”

She waltzed inside, grumbling about the traffic. The hospital Laxmi worked at had apparently loaned her to the one in Albuquerque for the day. Something about the head pharmacist requesting her by name to come train their staff on some new protocol. Something to that degree. Carol hadn’t paid much attention to the explanation, as Zosia had been groping her inappropriately at the time. So, Laxmi was in Albuquerque for the evening with nothing to do except sit in her fancy hotel room. Naturally, she jumped at the opportunity to spend the evening at Carol’s.

Laxmi paced down the hall, getting a good look at the place. She hummed, examining all of the art and archways. “The university pays you well I see. Perhaps I should change professions.”

Carol’s heart raced faster the closer Laxmi came to the kitchen. “The university pays fine. I’m a writer, mostly.”

“A writer?” She pried. “In all of our conversations, you never mentioned this.”

Carol became a little bashful. “Well, I haven’t written too much as of late, Zosia and I have been really busy. Besides, it’s nothing scholarly. Just some stupid, sappy romance novels,” she shrugged, “but they sell by the millions so…”

Laxmi turned to her, brows raised in pleasant surprise. “Millions? Not so stupid then, I would say.”

Carol found herself grinning at the stroke of her ego, but her smile quickly fell as Laxmi approached a portrait on the wall. With a tilt of the head, the dreaded question came. “Who’s this?”

The photograph in question was of an evening spent camping out under the stars. Helen’s face was framed so perfectly by the firelight, and the disposable camera had captured her so authentically, like a memory. Carol tried not to look at the photo for too long.

“That was my wife, Helen.” She sucked on her lips before elaborating, her voice nearly mute. “She’s not here anymore.”

“Divorced?”

“Deceased.”

Laxmi said a silent prayer, hand to her chest. “I'm so sorry, Carol. Can I ask what happened?”

Carol’s nerves were already fried, and reliving that horrible night certainly wasn’t helping. She quickly pushed down her feelings before they could even attempt to breach the surface. “There was an accident. We’re still not sure on the details…”

There was a moment of silence before Laxmi decidedly broke it. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that bad things always tend to happen to good people. I’m sure she was a saint. Especially for putting up with you.” Laxmi playfully nudged her, attempting to lighten the mood in her own way.

Carol gave an appeasing smile. She was spot on about Helen’s sainthood. She really did put up with a lot.

There was a beeping in the kitchen, and Laxmi followed the noise. Carol skittered behind her, anxiety clawing at her chest as she passed the threshold. There was a buffet of sorts set out on the island. Slices of gouda, Swiss, cheddar, and crackers. An assortment of fresh cut fruit, all spread out in a beautiful rainbow. Pierogi, roti, and a variety of sauces, slurries and curries. At the center of it all was Zosia pulling a perfectly baked cake out of the oven.

Laxmi didn’t pay her much attention as she admired the spread. “My, my, Carol. And here I was expecting cheap pizza.” She plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth, humming in delight. “This is far superior.”

Anticipation was bubbling all about as Zosia turned to the voice. While she hosted a pleasant expression on her face, Carol could tell in an instant it was completely hollow. Zosia looked Laxmi up and down at least three times.

“You must be Laxmi.” She doffed her oven mitts and approached, hand outstretched for a shake.

Laxmi hesitated for a beat, then took her hand gingerly. “And you must be the one responsible for all of this. I know it surely wasn’t Carol,” she laughed, side-eyeing the nervous wreck to her left. “I remember that story you told me in Vegas. The one where you nearly burned down your house.”

Carol laughed along as she anxiously drummed her fingers against her sides. She didn’t remember telling Laxmi that story at all. She really must have been plastered. What else had she rambled about that night?

“Do you do drinks as well?” Laxmi asked Zosia. “Because I need a dry martini with extra olives stat.”

She chuckled artificially, still showing off that award-winning smile. “I can certainly try...”

“That would be amazing.” Laxmi turned to Carol, feigning a whisper. “You’re lucky, you know? It’s hard to find good help these days.”

Zosia’s smile vanished, and Carol’s heart just about leaped out of her chest.

“Oh, she – she doesn’t work for me. She’s – she’s – “

Zosia draped an arm over Carol’s shoulder, her grip tighter than the occasion would warrant. “I’m her girlfriend.”

Laxmi’s eyes flickered between the two of them, lips parted in surprise before a slow, sly smile spread across her face. “Yes, the girlfriend. I’ve heard so much about you.”

The room fell silent, tension crackling like static in the air. Carol thought for sure she had stopped breathing all together. All day at work, Zosia had promised her anxious companion that she was excited to meet Laxmi. Even as she came over and took to baking, her hands far too busy to tease Carol’s body, she made her point very clear. She didn’t want to control Carol’s friendships. But now, as Zosia stood rigid and her hand gripped her tight, it was clear there were some feelings she couldn’t repress. The only thing capable of breaking the tension was the doorbell faintly ringing in the distance.

“I’ll get it,” Carol blurted, relief washing over her. “It’s probably just a solicitor…”

She pried Zosia’s hand off of her and scurried out of the kitchen. About halfway down the hall, she realized that leaving those two alone probably wasn’t the best idea, but answering the door was a much needed reprieve. Zosia promised she had no ill-will, but Laxmi was a bit of a wildcard. Carol knew from the get-go that their personalities would clash, but she had been hoping they could have at least made it past the introductions. It was going to be a long night juggling both of them.

She threw open the door, happy to hear a long rant about solar panels, but instead was met with a couple of familiar faces.

“Koumba? Manny?” The surprise in her voice must have been egregious.

“Expecting someone else?” Koumba asked, waltzing right in, like he had done all those drunken days during break.

Manousos slunk in behind him, murmuring a greeting.

Carol slowly closed the door. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, actually. What are you doing here?”

Koumba kicked off his shoes. “Zosia invited us. You know, since you never mentioned a party. Don’t worry, Manny takes no offense. I on the other hand, am deeply wounded.”

She wanted to be upset with Zosia for not mentioning the spare guests, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t grateful for more people to break the tension. Carol led them down the hall, electing not to tell them just what they were stepping into. As they entered the kitchen, the two women were involved in polite conversation about the weather with tight lipped smiles.

“Your guests are here,” Carol said pointedly in Zosia’s direction.

She winced in recognition. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I figured you’d want them here. The more the merrier, right?”

Koumba’s eyes were locked on the buffet of food. “I know I’m merry. You’ve outdone yourself, Zosia.” He took a pieróg, promptly chomping into it and leaning against the counter. He vaguely registered Laxmi’s presence, then did a double take once he realized her face was familiar. “Well, we meet again.”

“Professor Diabaté,” Laxmi drawled, pronouncing every syllable. “How have you been?”

He trilled his lips. There were no flirtatious comments or stupid pickup lines from him. Not from the man who had given up on love. “I’ve been better,” he admitted. “And you, how’s the drug dealing?”

Her stiff shoulders started to relax. “They have me crossing state lines now, so quite well I would say.”

Koumba tossed the rest of the pieróg in his mouth, humming in delight. “I think the only thing that could make this better is a drink.”

“Something we can both agree on.”

“I can get you some drinks,” Carol quickly offered. She pointed to each of the guests, recalling their drinks of choice. “Dry martini, extra olives, a whisky neat, and algo fuerte. Coming right up.”

She was already fleeing out of the kitchen when Zosia piped up.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

Away from the others, her guard could lower a fraction. Carol’s body was still sick for Zosia, and it only amplified as they distanced themselves from the tension in the kitchen. Alone at the bar, far from peering eyes and distant voices, Carol felt that insatiable itch return. Even as she clutched a bottle of whiskey, she couldn’t even fathom the amber liquid passing her lips. Alcohol couldn’t numb this feeling. Only one thing could.

Zosia came right up behind her, chest pressed against Carol’s back, and her breath hot on her ear. A shiver ran down Carol’s spine as that familiar ache between her legs returned. Truthfully, it never really left. It just seemed to grow worse with Zosia’s proximity. And now, with her breasts pressed against her, hips hitched to her ass, and lips dangerously close to her flesh, the pulse was nearly too much to bear.

“Are you still happy with your decision to wait?” Zosia asked, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Carol had a white knuckle grip on the bottle as she poured a shaky glass. “Very.” She sat the bottle down, and swiftly switched the subject. She was far too stubborn to give in now. “So, what do you think of Laxmi?”

Zosia gently ran her fingers up and down Carol’s sides for a moment as she thought. Naturally, Carol twitched beneath her.

“She’s fine.”

“Fine as in ‘good’? Or fine as in ‘meh’?”

Zosia didn’t respond, as her mouth quickly became occupied with the crook of Carol’s neck. She planted a few tender kisses, each one worsening the ache. Carol became lost in it for a moment, legs wobbling and knees weakening as she felt the gentle scrape of her teeth. Yet, despite all of this, a coherent thought managed to break through.

“Y-You didn’t answer my question.” Carol had to pull herself away before she could fall victim to the charm offensive. She turned to look Zosia in the eye. “What do you honestly think of Laxmi?”

There was a flash of uncertainty across Zosia’s face. Gone before even Carol herself could fully understand it. It was replaced with something enigmatic. Something unreadable.

“I think it’s wonderful you’re making new friends,” Zosia assured, giving both of Carol’s hands a squeeze. “I’m sure she’s a very lovely person.”

Carol’s shoulders drooped. “But you don’t like her.”

She gave her a pointed look. “I think it’s only natural to have reservations when someone assumes I’m a servant.”

Carol had a feeling that would come back to bite her in the ass. “She didn’t do it intentionally.”

“Nor did I take it personally,” Zosia shrugged, hosting an indifferent expression. “I just think it says a lot about a person.”

Even if she hadn’t taken it personally, Zosia was surely a little miffed by the assumption. Carol could tell from the moment the words left Laxmi’s lips. The way her body became rigid, the shortness in her voice. They weren’t off to a good start, that was for sure.

“Look, I know she can be a little much, but could you at least try getting along? I mean, you’re the one who wanted me to invite her over.”

“I know, I know,” Zosia sighed, her eyes falling to the partially made drinks. “I want to try. I will try. I just want to make you happy.” She looked back to Carol with a smile. “Unlike you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Unlike me?”

“Need I remind you of that stunt you tried to pull with the vibrator?”

A blush started to creep up Carol’s neck. She was hoping it could have been swept under the rug, but alas, Zosia didn’t lie. She remembered it. And she didn’t reward bratty behavior. Carol swallowed hard, fearing that sweet, sweet orgasm she had been dreaming about was farther off than she thought.

“Quiet now, are we?” There was a sly smirk on Zosia’s lips. “May I kiss you again? Or were there more things you wanted to ask me?”

Carol found herself leaning in instinctively, and Zosia leaned down to meet her halfway. It was hard to think about anything with Zosia’s warm, soft lips against hers. Between work all day and party preparations all afternoon, there hadn’t been much time to connect. No time to taste Zosia on the back of her tongue, or feel the weight of her in her palms. Carol’s hand seemed to act on its own, chasing its own insatiable craving as it snaked up the front of her loose fitting blouse. She could have shed a tear at the mere touch of her breast. Zosia’s heart was pounding under her palm.

Zosia moved from her lips to her neck, peppering kisses down and down. Things were getting a bit heavier than Carol had anticipated, but she certainly wasn’t going to stop it. Zosia had been stringent with affection since the vibrator incident. But now she was clutching her close, kissing her like something she didn’t want to share. Like something that belonged to her.

There was a sharp pinch, and Carol’s eyes flew open. It startled her more than anything as she hissed and pulled back like a frightened animal. It took her a moment to realize what even happened. It took her a moment longer to realize just how much it aroused her.

“Did you just bite me?”

Zosia’s pupils were dark, her gaze locked on the place she had just nipped. She took a steadying breath, gaining her composure. Slowly, her expression became unreadable, and her manner of speaking robotic. “My apologies, Carol. It would seem I got a little carried away… I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“You didn’t. It just startled me.” It also made a waterfall in her pants, but she elected to leave that out. Fruitlessly, Carol tried to catch sight of the place Zosia had latched on to. “In the bedroom is one thing, but we have company. What if you left a mark?”

“What if…” Zosia’s sentiment lingered in the narrow space, holding each of them hostage.

Distant cackling from the kitchen managed to break Zosia of her trance. She took to finishing the drinks, garnishing Laxmi’s with ample olives. Carol was a bit slower to follow, as she was thinking with the heat between her legs rather than her brain.

The faint tremor in her fingers sent ripples across the glass of whiskey. It was strange, really. Normally she was shaking because she couldn’t get the glass to her lips fast enough. Zosia was the greatest addiction transfer Carol could have asked for. The teasing from the week had been a light buzz, and she couldn’t wait to get shit-faced. The finish line was in her grasp. She just had to survive the night.

---------------------------------

Dinner went over far better than Carol expected. Everyone was polite and cordial. Even Koumba managed to contain his flagrant flirting. Perhaps giving up on love was his best course of action, because he managed to be charming in his own right. He wound up speaking to Laxmi about modern philosophers rather than which of the female staff had the best cleavage. Even Manousos was surprised. He asked if Koumba had been replaced by an alien, and if the alien could please stay and perhaps try a less offensive cologne.

Zosia was far from unfriendly, despite the uneasy tension in her body. She was staying true to her word and trying her best to be nice to Laxmi. Of course, asking Zosia to be nice was like asking a kitten to be cute. It was in her nature. But kittens still had claws, and for the time being, hers were retracted. They managed a polite conversation about their home countries, neither speaking ill of the other. Zosia laughed at her crude jokes, and Laxmi paid plenty of compliments to the chef.

But after experiencing such genuine joy from her lover, Carol quickly caught on to the false smile now lighting up her face. Any time Laxmi would get close to Carol and mutter something quietly, Zosia would seemingly teleport right to Carol’s hip, wondering what all the whispers were about. If her insecurities weren’t obvious enough, she had her hands all over Carol all night. An arm around her waist as they shuffled around the kitchen, an incessant urge to fix that little strand of blonde hair that always fell out of place, a rub of the shoulder any time they parted.

The worst was Zosia’s hand gripping her thigh beneath the dinner table. Slender fingers tracing up and down her inseam, offering firm squeezes every time Carol trembled. She knew in part it was also meant to keep up with the teasing. And it was working, as Carol found herself on the verge of feigning illness to evacuate the house. Just when the words were sitting on the tip of her tongue, Zosia pulled away. She took a sip of her drink, watching Carol through hooded eyes, with a smirk hidden behind her glass. A smile for only Carol to see. The way she could read her was exceptional, and it only made Carol want it more. A frustrated grumble rose in Carol’s throat, but she suppressed it with a cough.

In that moment, Koumba suggested they all play a game. Great. Yet another thing to draw out the torture. Before Carol could refuse or end the party, everyone was eagerly filing into the living room. Carol was slow to get up from the table. Zosia lingered behind as well, reluctant to be more than a few inches from her. She gave her frustrated lover a chaste kiss and a quick reminder, whispered in her burning ear.

“You’re shaking, baby. Take some breaths. As soon as they’re gone, we can talk about that problem of yours.”

Even just the sultriness of her voice made her pulse. It was all too much – it was maddening. The constant hot and cold. The give and take. Riding the edge of arousal all the way to complete despondency. She had given up on teasing Zosia all together. No longer was she trying to be bratty or misbehaved. She was defeated.

“You win.” Carol’s voice was low and incredibly fragile. If it were any higher it would break. “I… I can’t do it any more Zo… please… can you just…” There was a crack in her composure. She was dangerously close to crying out of frustration. A tear was welling in her eye, and her lip was trembling. As embarrassing as it was to cry for sex, there was a brief moment where she thought to fall to her knees and beg.

Zosia cupped her cheeks, steadying her and looking deeply into her eyes. She held her so preciously in her palms. “You’re almost exactly how I want you, my love. Come. We’ll play just one game, then we’ll send the others home. Does that sound fair?”

She mirrored Zosia’s calm breaths. Just one game, then she’d finally get her relief. She could do that.

“Yes ma’am.”

Scrabble was a daring choice, given their group was full of know-it-alls. But Carol was very good at the game, and she was sure they could wrap it up quickly. They all gathered around the coffee table, Carol cautiously placing herself between Zosia and Laxmi. Manousos and Koumba joined forces for the four player game. And while Laxmi insisted it was cheating, Carol assured her it evened out, since Koumba only had half a brain anyway.

“Are you always this mean to him?” Laxmi asked with a smirk as she sorted her tiles.

Carol shrugged, her leg bouncing and gaze elsewhere. “He likes it when women are mean to him.”

“Is that so?” Laxmi looked to the guilty party, brow raised.

Koumba bit back a smile as he took his turn and took his time answering. “You can ask my friend Manny here just how mean I like my women.”

Manousos rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Asqueroso…”

A thought came to Laxmi, and she was eager to share it with Carol. She tugged on her sleeve, pulling her closer and whispering in her ear. “If that’s the case, perhaps he should come back to my hotel room.”

Carol sat erect, and her brows shot up to her hairline. It quickly became clear that Laxmi was a little tipsy, as she was giggling profusely at Carol’s reaction, and had greatly lowered her standards. She shook her head as she settled back into her seat. Why her straight friends kept falling for that man was beyond her. It was easiest to blame it on the booze.

“What was so funny?” Zosia asked, eyes flicking between the two.

The shift in her demeanor was obvious to more than just Carol now. The whole room grew silent.

“It was just a stupid joke,” Carol said reassuringly.

The miffed look on Zosia’s face spoke volumes, but she relented and retreated to her game pieces. Laxmi played her turn, a slight air of mischief about her as she laid out her tiles.

“So what brought you to Albuquerque?” She asked, eyeing Zosia.

Despite the pleasantness of her voice, her hackles were still raised. “I was travelling up South America, doing charity work for the schools. I had always wanted to visit, and I just love teaching, so it was a perfect match. Unfortunately, I was running out of money by the time I was nearing the States. I applied for as many teaching jobs as I could find, and UNM was the first place to call me back.”

Carol played her turn during the retelling of the story, as she had heard it all before.

“Interesting. Is there a reason why you didn’t just go back home to Poland when you ran out of money?” Laxmi asked, brows furrowed. “It just seems odd to me.”

Zosia blinked a few times, giving her reply plenty of thought. “I just wanted a change of scenery I suppose.”

Laxmi hummed, taking the answer with a grain of salt. “So, you’re on a work visa then? An O-1?”

Zosia nodded along, taking her turn and placing nearly all of her tiles. “Yes, three years.”

“You must be quite bright. A cousin of mine, he had the same visa to come here and study aquatic life. I would know, I’ve only had to hear him ramble about it a million times.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip off her martini. “Did you know, there’s a study of zebra fish that seems to imply that dopamine is responsible for the development of empathy in vertebrate species about 200 million years ago.”

Everyone just sort of accepted the fun fact at face value. Everyone except Zosia.

“It was oxytocin, not dopamine,” she swiftly corrected. She leaned back in her seat, taking a sip from her glass and draping an arm over the back of Carol’s chair.

“Hmm, bright alright…” Laxmi mumbled into her drink. Her eyes flitted between the love-sick couple. “So how long have you two been official?”

Zosia answered almost immediately. “3 weeks.”

For a moment, the line of questioning seemed benign, and a calm lull fell over the room. That was until Laxmi opened her mouth.

“You two are just a couple of love birds, aren’t you? Can’t keep your hands to yourselves.”

Carol perked up, a bashful smile hijacking her face. Zosia’s affection had been quite obvious. She stammered a moment before Koumba took the liberty of answering for her.

“The honeymoon phase,” he confirmed.

“Perhaps…” Laxmi straightened in her chair, leveling an unblinking gaze at Carol. “It seems like a bit more than that to me.”

Zosia set her glass down with a soft clink, her tone sharpening unnaturally. “What exactly are you trying to insinuate?”

“Yeah, Laxmi.” Carol glanced to Zosia then back, a fleeting attempt to keep the peace. “We’re just… really happy together.”

She held up her hands. “All I’m saying is Zosia has been glued to your hip all night. I’m surprised you’re even allowed to go to the bathroom by yourself.”

“She’s not my keeper,” Carol clarified curtly.

“Well, as your friend, I just thought I’d point out what everyone else is seeing.”

She gestured to the other two, who didn’t have much to say about the subject. Manousos fussed with his glass while Koumba pretended to sort his tiles. Carol thought to argue, but she couldn’t deny the way Zosia’s hands hadn’t left her since the moment Laxmi walked in. Was it truly that egregious?

“Do you find my affection for Carol offensive?” Zosia asked. Her attempt at an innocent tone was poor.

“I find it overbearing. She’s a person, yet you’re treating her like a piece of property.” She turned to Carol. “I’m just saying, as your friend, someone needs to point it out. I wouldn’t even bother if I didn’t care.”

What Carol refused to reveal in that moment – and perhaps even admit to herself – was that the idea of being Zosia’s property was somewhat appealing. Nevertheless, Laxmi and her unabashed comments were crossing a line.

“I appreciate the thought, Laxmi, but you’re pushing it. Just drop it, alright?”

She crossed her arms. It was her turn, but the Scrabble board was the least interesting thing in the room. She managed to hold her tongue for all of five seconds. “This over millions of copies…” she shook her head in disbelief. “You know, it’s not too late to listen to your brain, Carol.”

It took her a moment to realize what she was on about. That drunken conversation right before Carol let her cigarette fall from her lips and closed the gap between them. The heart or the brain. Zosia or her career.

Zosia’s arm wrapped tight around Carol, almost instinctually. Her expression hardened, and that warm front gave way to something colder. “Do you have a problem with me?”

Laxmi let out a wry laugh. “I could ask you the very same question. You, with those fake laughs and fake smiles. I can see right through you – you have something against me. This is because Carol kissed me, isn’t it? Because I can’t think of any other reason for you to be so haughty. Do I really threaten you that much?”

“I’ve been kind to you all evening.” Zosia not-so-kindly reminded her. “And for the record, I don’t treat Carol like property. She is an individual with her own agency.”

Laxmi snorted, humored by the very notion. “Yes, and that’s why you were groping her beneath the table all dinner. You know I’m not a lesbian, right? I’m not here to come and steal her away from you.”

“I never said you were.”

“Your actions speak far louder than your words.” Laxmi huffed.

Zosia’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t exactly been the most polite to me either.”

“I’m just looking out for Carol.”

“As am I.”

Laxmi scoffed. “By acting crazy?”

Carol couldn’t even properly interject into the argument before Zosia snapped. Her hand slammed down on the table, rattling the tiles and commanding everyone’s attention.

“I am not crazy.”

The room hung in suspense as her voice reverberated off the walls. She had never snapped like that before. Zosia’s shoulders heaved, anger and hurt mingling in her expression, and a wild look in her eyes. Koumba shifted awkwardly in his seat, while Manousos coughed quietly, as if that might dissipate the pressure. Laxmi was rather unfazed, perhaps even satisfied with the loss of control. Her eyes flicked toward Carol as if expecting her to take sides.

Carol stood, physically cutting the tension between them. “That’s enough. Both of you.” She looked to Zosia, a cocktail of confusing emotions swirling around in her chest. “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Laxmi was already grabbing her purse. “I need a smoke break anyway…”

Koumba volunteered to play peacekeeper. He hopped up and followed Laxmi towards the front door, offering to join her. He flashed a look of bewilderment in Carol’s direction as he stepped out into the hall. She waved him on – she would deal with Laxmi later. Right now, Zosia’s uncharacteristic outburst had all of her attention.

Carol led the way to her bedroom, only the sound of footsteps echoing in the halls. The moment she closed the door behind them, Carol jumped right in. She was done tiptoeing around the subject.

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Zosia pointed to herself, as if Carol could be talking about anyone else in the darkened bedroom. “Did you hear what she said to me?”

“She has a point, though. I mean, you make no goddamn sense. You tell me you hate that I kissed her, then you tell me to invite her over, and then you’re all mad again? You promised me you’d behave, Zosia. So what the hell is your issue with Laxmi?”

She sucked on her bottom lip, her eyes drifting towards the floor. Any anger she had had dissipated, and now, she seemed nothing more than disappointed with herself.

“It’s just… it took a long time for you to open up to me. Then you go out and kiss this stranger out of nowhere. I just had to know what you saw in her that took you so long to see in me.” She swallowed hard, her expression faltering. “And I get it now. She’s blunt, down to earth… I like to think I try to be those things. I guess I don’t try hard enough…”

Carol backed off just a fraction. “You are those things, Zo. God, you’re everything… But I still don’t understand why you’re threatened by her. It was just a stupid, drunken mistake. I’m not interested in her, she’s not into me, and I’m 3 weeks sober. There’s nothing to be jealous about.”

“I know, Carol…” she let out a frustrated sigh. “I just…”

“You just what?” Carol held up her hands, exasperated. “You said you didn’t want to police my friendships, but it sure does feel like you are. Do you not trust me?”

“I trust you, Carol.” She nodded, gaze drifting off. The very edges of something concealed beneath her stoic expression started peeking through. An uncomfortable truth was piloting her actions. She took a few steps back, struggling to reconcile. “I would give you a better explanation, but I don’t think our relationship would be the same.”

Carol’s heart sunk like a rock, plummeting all the way to the bottom of the ocean. “What the hell does that mean?”

Regret was almost instantaneous on her face. Zosia shook her head, clearly distressed as she disregarded the thought entirely. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have brought it up – “

“Too late.” Carol stepped forward, arms crossed as she fruitlessly searched her face. Her heart was racing, and her stomach started to knot with anxiety. Regardless, she managed to stand her ground. “If it’s going to change our relationship, I have to know. So go on. Tell me.”

“No, I – ”

“Tell me.”

Zosia let out a shuttering breath. Whatever it was, it was eating her alive. She was on the verge of tears, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Carol – “

“Fucking tell me!” Carol boomed. “Tell me – or – or…” her bravado faltered as she came to an ultimatum she herself wasn’t even certain of. “Or we’re done.”

Zosia’s eyes fluttered shut as a tear rolled down her cheek. It was almost as if she had expected it. “Carol, I’m scared,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m scared that if I tell you, you’ll look at me differently. That you’ll leave me anyway. You… you’re all I have…”

Fear had never twisted her heart quite like it did in that moment. Carol let out a shaky exhale, bracing herself. She spoke very deliberately, refusing to let her fear of the unknown shake her vindication.

“Tell me.”

Silence filled the space between them, heavy and heart-stopping. Zosia’s breath became slow, a familiar exercise she instructed Carol to perform when her anxiety was unbearable. Zosia’s fingers curled into trembling fists at her sides. For a moment, Carol wondered if she had pushed too hard. If the beginnings of a stress-induced epileptic event were underway. She readied herself to catch her, but Zosia finally lamented.

“I’m infatuated with you.”

Carol blinked a few times. Was this meant to be groundbreaking? She wasn’t sure how to respond for a moment.

“Yeah… you told me that already.”

“No, Carol.” Her eyes were dark when she finally opened them, and her voice was firm as she spoke incredibly deliberately.

“I’m infatuated with you.”

Carol tried to make sense of the graveness in Zosia’s delivery. She had admitted to her infatuation on various occasions. Even at their very first meeting, in the classroom they were destined to share, Zosia had said she was a big fan of her work. What was so wrong with that?

“I’m not sure I follow…” Carol said cautiously.

Something was just itching to be let out. Zosia swallowed hard as she willed herself to elaborate.

“It wasn’t chance that I ended up in Albuquerque.”

Carol’s heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I found your book in the Glasgow airport, and I loved every single word of it. So I read all of your books and… I became obsessed with you. I joined online forums, I studied every interview, and then I found out where you lived.”

Carol’s eyes widened as she took it all in. So many moments came flooding back to her in that millisecond. The Wycaro quotes, the constant touching and staring, the diner, the red Gatorade. It went beyond simple romance. Because Zosia wasn’t a mystical unicorn sent to her by fate.

Zosia was crazy.

The silence that followed was heavy as both parties gauged the other’s reaction. Carol blinked a few times, her whole world unraveling. The truth that now sat bare between them was raw and uncomfortable. Carol should have been terrified. Mortified even. The appropriate thing to do would be to kick Zosia out, yell and cry at how she had betrayed her trust and undermined their entire relationship. About how she was the only person Carol thought she could ever love again.

But she wasn’t mortified.

It made her heart race.

And that was insurmountably worse.

They had both been standing there in silence for far too long before she found her voice.

“…Oh…” Carol finally uttered.

Zosia winced and pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering a slurry of Polish swears. “I knew this would happen… this always happens…” She sounded more disappointed with herself than anything. “I’m not crazy. I just get very attached to people. Sometimes too attached. And every time, my obsession scares them away. Again and again – it always happens. The only reason Stefan even agreed to marry me was because I agreed to go to therapy. And it helped a lot. I learned how to cope with my obsessive behavior as best I could. But by the time I realized I wasn’t actually attracted to Stefan, it was too late. The marriage was official.”

She was starting to get a little worked up as she talked animatedly, pacing about the room. “But I just can’t turn off that unconditional love in my brain. Even when I knew he was no good for me, and we would fight, and we would yell, I just couldn’t turn it off.” She tapped her temple, voice strained, and took another deep breath before continuing.

“Then you, Carol, you took over my every thought. I reread your books, I fell asleep to the sound of old interviews, I looked up flights to Albuquerque… I stopped going to therapy…” Zosia looked away out of shame. “I knew it wasn’t healthy. I tried to distract myself from you with my trip to South America. Clearly it didn’t work. No matter how many cities I visited or people I met, I just kept thinking about you. I tried to fight it, but I just kept traveling north… then suddenly UNM was calling me back, and it was goodbye South America, hello Albuquerque.”

Carol hung on every word, as each revelation was more mind blowing than the last. Their fairytale romance wasn’t a matter of fate. It was carefully orchestrated. Carol’s lips parted, but no words came out. Zosia had rendered her completely speechless, so all she could do was listen to the heartbreaking confession.

“My whole world was turned upside-down when we finally met. You were nothing like the idea I had of you. You weren’t the person I was obsessed with,” Zosia continued. “You were an angry drunk with more grief than you could carry. When you slashed my face, it was like I woke up. I realized my obsession had gone too far, and I finally admitted to myself that I needed help.”

Zosia was less tearful now, gaining confidence as she spoke. “I went back to therapy immediately. I tried out different mood stabilizers and coping mechanisms. The seizure you unfortunately witnessed was due to a medication change to help me act normal around you,” she admitted shamefully. “But then you nursed me back to health. You were sweet and loving, and you took care of me when I was at rock bottom. I realized that there was more than just my obsession keeping me in Albuquerque. Keeping me at your side. Even a sane person would be captivated by your love, Carol.”

Everything was starting to make sense. All this time, Carol couldn’t understand how Zosia, the happiest person on earth, could deal with a miserable wretch like herself. Her obsession, yes, but it was also the way Carol herself showed her devotion. Because after everything, Carol was addicted to Zosia like she had never been before. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized just how mutual the obsession was.

“That…” Carol couldn’t quite find the right words to capture the complete whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. “That explains a lot…”

Her neutral response seemed to give Zosia enough reassurance to keep going. “I’ve been learning how to restrain myself. To not be so… possessive. It’s something my therapist and I are working on, but I still have a long way to go. So when you say I turn my affection off and on, I’m just trying to not be overbearing.” She shrugged. “That’s why I want you to have Laxmi over, even though it bothers me. It’s exposure therapy of sorts. I just have to slow down, breathe, and remind myself that your life is your own.” It seemed to pain her to say it. “You are an individual. You are not mine.”

Zosia thought it was overbearing, claiming her like that. She thought she was scaring Carol away. That it was all too much. A memory became very clear in Carol’s mind. Their argument just before she left for Poland. The way Carol affirmed how Zosia loved her so uniquely. That Zosia was hers.

“Mine.” Carol had said.

It was right after that that Zosia shut down, retreating behind her pleasant words and unreadable expression. All this time, Carol thought it was because the feeling wasn’t mutual. In reality, the very sentiment that had vexed Carol was tormenting Zosia as well. She quickly realized that if it weren’t for therapy, Zosia would have never gone back to Poland.

Zosia stood there, head hung low, as she waited for the rejection she knew was coming. “I understand this is a lot for you to take in. You may feel betrayed or deceived, and all of those feelings are completely valid.” It sounded like something she had rehearsed rather than Zosia speaking earnestly. “I can leave if… if that’s what you want.”

Any sane person could tell that Zosia wasn’t exactly of sound mind. Her obsession drove her across the globe, and shattered nearly every relationship in her life. She wanted Carol all to herself, to have and to hold, and to fixate on to an unhealthy happily ever after.

Zosia was crazy.

But Carol just couldn’t bring herself to be afraid. Devotion, obsession, love. They were all synonymous in Carol’s mind. All this fear of past lovers, better partners, secret husbands, all of it was silenced by Zosia’s admission. She was infatuated with her. Hopelessly and self-destructively infatuated with her. It was all of the things Carol thought she’d never experience again after Helen’s passing. She didn’t think someone could love her that same way again.

That someone could love her more.

Perhaps Carol was a little crazy too, because every red flag looked splendiferous through her rose-colored glasses.

“I want to be yours,” Carol said confidently.

Surprise flashed across Zosia’s features like lightning, but storm clouds were looming. She quickly averted her gaze before any feelings could linger too long. “Don’t say that Carol.”

“But it’s true.” She stepped closer, appealing to that obsessive nature Zosia tried so desperately to hide. “I want to be yours Zosia – God, it’s all I can think about. Since I met you, you’ve captivated me. Even now, you occupy all of my thoughts. I’m… I’m infatuated with you too.” She let out a shaky yet hopeful chuckle, elated to finally share this sentiment both of them desired so deeply.

Carol took another step closer, and Zosia stepped back, keeping a safe distance. “Carol…” she said in a warning tone, every muscle in her body taunt.

She continued to advance, despite her dismay. Zosia was acting like a caged animal as she retreated, but Carol wasn’t scared of her biting. In fact, she wanted her to. That collar had been haunting her, and she desperately wanted to hear the rest of Zosia’s list of desires.

“All week, I’ve been so frustrated, not just physically, but emotionally. I’ve been confused and maybe even a little scared by this ache that I have. This desire to be yours. For you to… to own me.” Her cheeks started to flush out of embarrassment. “You’re what I think about when I wake up and before I sleep. I want you to know every part of me. My fears, my pleasures, my breaking points. And it’s been driving me crazy thinking that I’m being too much, or that you don’t see me that way, but… I’m not scared anymore. Because you want to own me, don’t you? That’s what you’ve been holding back.”

Carol kept pressing, moving closer and closer. Zosia kept retreating until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She glanced down at the roadblock, then back to Carol, pupils black. Urges were boiling to the surface, more burning than ever. She forced her gaze elsewhere, letting out a long, low sigh. Her face was unreadable, just like it had been so many times before. Only this time, Carol had a name for that enigmatic expression.

Restraint.

“Carol,” Zosia warned, her voice dangerously low. Years of therapy were keeping her from losing all control. From giving in to what she desired at her core. “Don’t say those things to me. Don’t say them unless you mean it. Because if we cross that line…” That dark expression returned like the tide, threatening to sweep Carol under. “I can’t go back. I won’t go back.”

The undercurrent to her conviction sent a shiver up Carol’s spine. What should have been a warning sign only drew her in closer. She was mere inches from Zosia’s face now, challenging the well-rehearsed restraint that kept her in chains.

“I want to be yours, Zosia. Make me yours.”

The atmosphere around them shifted. Zosia’s calm, therapeutic breaths quickly became broken and ragged, rolling down Carol’s throat and pulling her in. The inhibitions that had been holding Zosia hostage started to crumble. Something carnal rose to the surface as she looked Carol up and down.

Slowly, she allowed herself to touch the object of her desire. Zosia threaded her fingers through Carol’s locks of hair, clutching the back of her head firmly. She coaxed her up on her tiptoes, compelling her to meet at eye level. Carol let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding out of her chest.

“Are you not scared of me?” Zosia asked without an ounce of trepidation.

Carol swallowed hard. Her entire body was pulsing. “I probably should be.”

Her breath caught in her throat as Zosia pulled her into a hungry kiss, whisking away any doubt either of them might have had. They had a matching appetite that only the other could satisfy. A carnal need pulling them closer, pressing their tongues deeper, wrapping their arms tighter. The kiss only stopped because Zosia pulled back, breathless. Her desire was palpable. And her eyes… God, her eyes. They were dark as a starless night – insatiable black holes, prepared to swallow her alive. Something had awoken. Something that couldn’t be put back to rest. Zosia was on the verge of coming completely unraveled. Her breath was hot, and her voice almost animalistic as she gave Carol an order.

“Get these people out of your house.”

------------------------------------------

Carol wasn’t a runner, but the speed with which she dashed out of the bedroom could have won her a medal. She flew down the stairs, rounded the corner, and poked her head into the living room. Manousos was all by his lonesome, thumbing through the self-help book Koumba had gifted her for Christmas. He glanced up expectantly.

“Party’s over,” Carol announced, nodding towards the exit. “You can keep the book.”

He shrugged, tucking it under his arm.

Carol hurried to the front door. She hoped Laxmi wouldn’t be too upset at the party wrapping up so soon. Koumba could cry about it to her later. She threw the door open, and froze in her tracks. Laxmi and Koumba were sharing a kiss rather than a cigarette.

They quickly parted, like teenagers caught necking, both stammering through some kind of excuse.

“Safe to say you two are getting along…” Carol muttered. She quickly got back on track. The stolen kiss was the least exciting thing that awaited her that evening. “Anyway, party is over. Zosia, she’s…” Horny, insatiable, experiencing cannibalistic thoughts. “…tired. It’s her medicine, it makes her tired. She’s sorry about this evening and hopes there’s no hard feelings.”

Laxmi didn’t seem all that bothered. Her eyes kept flitting to Koumba. “Only a few, but I’m sure they will pass. I apologize as well, it wasn’t my intention to ruin the party. I just hate to see you regret anything.”

Carol gave her a tightlipped smile. “No regrets here.”

Laxmi nodded as she reached into her purse, pulling out some kind of card. She tucked it into Koumba’s breast pocket with a wink. “My flight leaves at 10 tomorrow morning.”

She said a chaste goodbye before sauntering off to her rental and pulling out of the cul-de-sac.

“So much for being done with love,” Carol snorted.

Koumba would have given some witty retort, but he was busy deciphering the item imparted upon him. He pulled out the card, holding it up to the porch light to get a better view. Both him and Carol realized what it was at the exact same time. A keycard to Laxmi’s hotel room.

They shared a slack-jawed moment of awe. Koumba quickly picked his jaw up off the floor, filled with vigor like never before. He shouted into the open door.

“¡Vamonos, Manny! ¡Rápido, Rápido!”

Another beat, and Manousos was at the door. He slipped past Carol, stuffing one last pieróg in his mouth and thanking her for the book through his full cheeks. Carol faintly waved them off, slamming the door shut.

By the time she made it back to the bedroom, she was breathless and trembling, like a dog anticipating a big, juicy steak. But when she burst through the door, Zosia wasn’t waiting where she left her. The only light was a lamp in a far off corner, and the bed was untouched. She took a few tentative steps forward.

“Zosia?”

Suddenly, the door latched behind her and she jumped out of her skin. There, in the dark, Zosia had been eagerly waiting for her return. Once her only escape was sealed, Zosia made sure to twist the lock. Her eyes seemed to glow in the faint light, and the way Carol had startled put a twisted smile on her face. Zosia had stared at her plenty of times before, but this felt different. It was like she was being watched by a hungry wolf, stalking its prey. Carol had just wandered into her den.

Zosia didn’t come to her, she simply crooked her finger, begging an audience. Carol couldn’t help but follow the piper, entering her space and losing her breath all together. Because Zosia had something for her, and Carol’s eyes widened at the sight. It was the collar.

“May I?” Zosia asked in that low tone that made her pulse.

Carol raised her chin, ready to seal her fate. “Please.”

The silk lining was accommodating, and the heavy metal buckle was cold on the nape of her neck, sending goosebumps rippling across her body. A pleased smirk sat on Zosia’s lips as she clasped it shut, solidifying Carol’s devotion. She straightened it out, and cinched it tighter. Not enough to cut off circulation, just enough to feel that pressure. That reminder of who she belonged to. Zosia held the tag between her fingers, tracing the etching with her thumb. There was profound gratitude resting on the crinkles around her eyes.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, kochanie,” she whispered.

The pet name was like music to her ears, despite not having a clue what it meant. That warm feeling in her chest radiated throughout her entire body. It went beyond the need between her legs. She craved Zosia down to the bone.

“Me too.”

Zosia stood before Carol, towering over her, as her eyes kept wandering back down to that collar. That claim over Carol’s entire being. Carol felt a blush rising in her cheeks. Zosia had kissed every part of her, yet now she was feeling bashful. It was different being seen in this light – being held in this regard. Belonging to Zosia.

Zosia hooked a long finger around the thick leather and gave it a little tug, forcing Carol to stand straighter and give her undivided attention.

“You look good in leather.” She leaned down, planting a few kisses across Carol’s face, coaxing a low hum out of her. “Very handsome.”

The words melted her like butter. God, if she was already having this much of an effect on her, there was no way Carol would survive the night. She just hoped to finally get some relief. Because the longer she sat under that searing gaze, the unbearable heat between her legs only got worse. She was shaking like a leaf from the anticipation. There was no telling what this darker side of Zosia was going to do to her.

It made her feel alive.

But as hungry as Zosia was, she still had manners. She glanced to the bed beside them, hesitant to even disturb the duvet. “Is the bed fine? If not, I’d be more than happy to accommodate.”

It was thoughtful, and Carol could appreciate the way Zosia tactfully handled the uncomfortable subject. While she never vocalized it out loud, Zosia had picked up on the fact that the bed was sacred. From the way Carol had tensed the first time she laid on it, and the way she’d linger after making it in the morning. Her fingers would trace the fabric, and her gaze would be somewhere unreachable.

Carol knew that they were destined to cross that boundary one day. She wanted a future with Zosia in it. A future that involved making love to her all night, and waking up to a tangle of brunette hair beside her and sleepy morning kisses. Carol wanted to be happy in her house again. She didn’t want grief to define her.

“The bed is fine.”

Zosia gave a pleased hum, her carnal gaze boring into her. “Good.”

Zosia swallowed her up in a needy, impassioned kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet, and melted like butter against Carol’s. Her shoulders slacked, and she nearly lost her balance from the passionate kiss, but Zosia caught her and held her up with those strong hands on her hips.

In the blink of an eye, Carol was flat against the mattress. The springs groaned, as did Carol, as Zosia loomed over top of her, kissing and nipping at her lips like a hungry animal. She was making up for lost time as she pressed her tongue past Carol’s teeth, and swallowed up all of the whimpers she offered. Carol kissed back as best she could, but her mind was swimming.

It felt like they were kissing for the first time again. That anxious bubble was rising in her chest, and she felt a little faint. Was it the collar? Was it the look in Zosia’s eyes? Was it the fact that she had never belonged to someone like this before? Never needed anything this bad before? All of her blood was rushing elsewhere, and she couldn’t think clearly enough to come to a resolve. The mind truly was the largest sex organ, and hers was rapidly becoming overstimulated.

Zosia sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, pulling back and letting it snap back against Carol’s jaw. She moved to the corner of her mouth, allowing her to finally suck in a deep breath. That was a bit better. Breathing nice and deep. She held the back of Zosia’s loose fitting blouse in her hands, grounding herself as those nips and sucks trailed across her jaw. Carol couldn’t tap out so soon. How embarrassing it would be to call out ‘yellow’ at just some steamy kisses.

She was caught somewhere between want and nerves. Zosia’s kisses grew fiercer, her lips and teeth staking claim with every touch. Kisses trailed down her neck, then paused at the thick band of leather. She let out a murmur, a chuckle perhaps, before hooking her finger beneath it once more. It took no more than a gentle tug for Carol to bend to her whim, exposing more of her neck to be ravaged.

“Good girl,” Zosia purred, her mouth returning, appetite far from satiated.

As she sunk lower, her weight pressed Carol down into the mattress. Zosia’s hips were firm and steady, not offering a scrap of friction for the needy heat radiating up from below her. Pinned so tightly, Carol couldn’t even grind up against her if she wanted to. Not even a twitch from her trembling body was permitted. All she could do was hold steady beneath Zosia’s weight and submit to the pressure. And it was in that surrender that she found herself starting to finally relax.

Those ravenous kisses landed upon her pulse point, heart beating between Zosia’s teeth. In an instant, that sharp sting returned as she clamped down. Instinctually, Carol jerked away from the sting, but she couldn’t go very far with her flesh between her teeth. Zosia slowly retracted her canines, easing off the pressure. Her tongue swirled around the indentations left there, admiring the way Carol’s flesh molded to her.

She bit down again.

Harder.

Carol inhaled sharply, balling Zosia’s shirt in her hands. Heat bloomed at the surface, radiating through her limbs and concentrating down between her thighs. The scrape of Zosia’s teeth was intense, erotic, and mind melting all in one fell swoop. The more she licked and bit her way up and down the column of Carol’s neck, the more she wanted to be ravaged. She let out a series of whimpers and whines as Zosia took her time nipping, biting, and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

“Arms up,” Zosia murmured, voice low and commanding.

She obeyed without skipping a beat. Zosia’s hands moved with purpose, slipping beneath Carol’s shirt, pressing into her sides and mapping her form. Carol arched into the touch, trembling and needy. Zosia kept her pinned at the waist as she helped her out of her shirt, bra and all. The expanse of virgin skin just waiting to be marked only seemed to worsen Zosia’s appetite.

She sat above her, lips swollen and cheeks pink, as ragged breaths tumbled out of her parted lips. She ran her thumb over one particularly deep mark, smirking at the way Carol shuddered beneath her touch. This Zosia was such a far cry from the cordial and meek façade she put up around their friends. Here, with her desire dripping from her face and her urges poorly restrained, she looked absolutely fucking gorgeous. Like a belladonna, beautiful and dangerous.

“Look at you,” Zosia whispered, voice low and rough. “So needy. So desperate for me to touch you.” She ran her thumb over Carol’s trembling lips, forcing her to look up. “Say it. Beg for me to keep going.”

“Please, ma’am… please don’t stop. I want to be yours. I need you – ” Her words dissolved into whimpers as Zosia leaned in once more, devouring her mouth before she could finish her sentence. It was all-consuming, and it left Carol delirious and lost in the sensation.

“You’re making it very, very hard to have any self-control…” Zosia murmured against her lips, her own voice starting to become breathy and strained.

The admission made her quiver. That loss of self-control was everything she had been dreaming about. Everything she had been waiting for. Her entire being was consumed by Zosia’s dominance and her own desire.

“Then don’t.”

Zosia’s gaze darkened, and she returned with vigor, kissing, sucking, and biting. There was no relenting; not even a moment for Carol to catch her breath between the chorus of whimpers Zosia pulled out of her. Each touch was both punishment and reward, feeding the heat that threatened to consume her entirely. Zosia’s hands were everywhere at once, pinning her wrists down, claiming her, making sure Carol knew exactly who she belonged to.

The feast moved down to her breasts, leaving plenty of hickeys behind to mark her path. Carol braced herself as Zosia approached the apex, worried she may bite off more than Carol could stand. But it was her tongue that met her nipple, swirling and lapping in a delicious fashion. A long, drawn out moan rose from the needy mess below her, and Zosia took it in stride. She gave a hard suck, teeth tensing around the sensitive bud, making Carol shudder and whine.

Zosia made sure to take her time. She tormented one breast after the other, until her nipples were tender to even the slightest breeze. Her hot mouth trailed back up, revisiting the rouge marks already taking shape on her pale skin. Carol pulsed at the thought of Zosia biting her harder. Taking more of her flesh between her teeth. Leaving marks that even makeup couldn’t cover.

“Harder… bite me harder…” Carol rasped out between ragged breaths. She nearly forgot her manners. “Please, ma’am.”

Zosia didn’t hesitate. Her grip tightened as she pressed her mouth to Carol’s collarbone and bit down. It wasn’t gentle, nor was it sweet. It was carnal. Hungry. Under normal circumstances it would be excruciating, but with her inhibitions out the window and neediness shaking her to her core, it was perfect. Pain tangled with pleasure as Zosia took what she wanted.

It was a messy and excruciating affair as Zosia staked her claim. Each mark she left was deliberate, a testament to Carol’s complete surrender. By the time Zosia was sat back and satisfied, Carol’s eyes were glassy and her mind in a far off place. The room around them was nothing but a blur. All she could focus on was Zosia and that prideful look as she admired her handiwork.

She mumbled something to herself in her native tongue. Carol thought perhaps she should learn some Polish to better connect in moments like this, but at the present moment, she couldn’t even focus on the syllables. Carol didn’t really want to think at all. All she wanted was for Zosia to tell her what to do, what limb to move, what words to say. She was boneless against the mattress, completely and utterly at Zosia’s mercy.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Zosia drawled. Her words came out a little slurred, muddled by desire, her swollen lips, and her fatigued tongue. “You like this. I can tell.”

It took Carol a moment to reply. “Love it.”

“You’ve been waiting for this all week, haven’t you?” She asked with a tilt of the head. She swirled her thumb over one of the darkening bruises, making Carol twitch once more. “You need it bad.”

“Y-Yes ma’am…” Carol’s voice was rough, barely over a whisper. “I – I do…”

“And I’d love to give it to you.” She leaned down, hot breath only an inch from Carol’s face. “But I do believe I promised we’d correct your attitude.”

Fuck.

Through all of the kissing and biting, Carol completely forgot there was a punishment looming. Zosia shimmied off of her, that grounding pressure lifting and leaving Carol feeling empty. Thankfully, she didn’t go too far. She knelt beside her, brushing loose strands of hair from her face.

“I think ten strikes should do. Then, we can properly take care of you.”

Carol throbbed just at the thought of another spanking. Secretly, she had been hoping Zosia would go even rougher than she had last time. There was something so cathartic about having a woman you love and trust leave bruises on your skin. She couldn’t be too mad about an attitude adjustment. It sounded like a lovely segue, although, she wished it was far more than ten.

“But aside from your mouth, you were a good girl for me and waited. For that, I’ll let you choose. Would you prefer my hand or my belt?”

Both sounded heavenly, really. But there was something else Carol was desperate to be spanked with. Something she knew Zosia would love. With her fleeting strength, Carol sat up. Her head was swimming, and faintness nearly caused her to collapse back into the pillows. God, it was like she was drunk. Zosia watched curiously as Carol crawled to the edge of the bed on shaking hands and knees.

She leaned over to the nightstand, sliding it open and retrieving her prized possession. A bashful blush rose in her cheeks as she presented the paddle with a hopeful smile. “Can you use this? Please ma’am?”

It was evident in her raised brows and slight smile that she was pleasantly surprised by her vanilla donut. Zosia took the paddle from her, testing the weight of it in her palm. But when she flipped it over and caught sight of the writing pressed into the leather, her smile fell, and her jaw slacked.

“Oh Carol… that is such a good girl…” she said in a sigh. That dark look in her eye returned with no signs of dispersing. “You are doing some dangerous things to me tonight…” It took her a moment to collect herself. She cleared her throat, slipping back into the calm and dominant disposition that made Carol melt. “On your stomach.”

She rolled over, a dull ache spreading across the collage of bruises on her chest. The need between her legs only became more incessant as Zosia encouraged her to lift her hips and prop her ass up in the air. Zosia’s fingers deftly undid the clasp of Carol’s pants, yanking them down to her knees along with her drenched underwear. She clenched around nothing at all as she was met with the cool breeze and Zosia’s lips against her waiting cheek. The tenderness was fleeting. Just as soon as her lips left, they were replaced with the hard thud of the paddle.

Carol gasped, clutching fistfuls of the bed sheets beneath her. The sting bloomed instantly, heat radiating across her skin. The sudden shock of pleasure mixing with a sharp ache left her breathless and reeling. She was expecting a punishment, but not quite to this extent. It was so much harder than the flogger. Than her hand, even.

“One,” Zosia calmly announced. She let the cool leather sit on the tender skin for a moment, drawing out the heat. Once she was satisfied, she cocked back again. “Two.”

The smack came again, a mixture of pain and arousal jolting through her body. She buried her face in the duvet, letting only the linens hear her groans. It hurt, but Carol was quickly coming to terms with the fact that she liked Zosia being too rough with her. She found herself seeking out the pain just as much as she was dreading the next swat. It was easier just to let Zosia do as she pleased than try to make any sense of the conflicting feelings in her foggy mind.

The thud came again, and Carol all but jumped out of her skin.

“Fuck – ” She cried out as she lurched forward.

“Oh, was that too much?” Zosia asked, her tone patronizing rather than sympathetic. She dragged the paddle across the raised flesh, circling the welt that was starting to form. Marking her as Zosia’s. “I do believe you said to make you mine, did you not?”

Carol was still reeling. She almost forgot to answer until Zosia’s hand stopped and she swiftly recalled what was expected of her. “Y-Yes ma’am.”

Zosia leaned down and kissed her right where it was tender, making her twitch. “If it’s too much, you know how to ask me to slow down, don’t you baby?”

Carol let out a shaky exhale. “Yes ma’am.”

She gave her another peck. “So is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“No ma’am.”

Zosia let out a hum, sitting back up. “You know, I think I’d like to hear an apology for your behavior the other day.”

It took Carol a moment to even remember what she was talking about. Between the heat in her loins and the heat radiating off her ass, she didn’t have much for brain power. “Oh, uh, I’m – I’m sorry?”

She was swiftly met with another thwap of the paddle, effectively knocking the trepidation out of her voice. Carol whimpered for a moment as the sting sent a pulsing wave through her body. It was sweet, sweet torture.

“I know you can do better than that. Give me a proper apology.”

Carol leaned into the roleplaying. It was hard for her to feel embarrassed about it in that moment when she was on the verge of delirium. “I’m sorry for trying to get off without permission.”

“And?”

She struggled to think of what else she had to apologize for. Before she could land on anything, the paddle landed against her cheek once more. Carol held in the urge to curse. It seemed like the strikes were only getting harder, and she had a feeling that cursing would make things worse.

“You called me an asshole,” Zosia reminded her, her tone just as harsh as the strikes. “Is that any way to talk to me?”

“N-No ma’am.” Carol swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for calling you names. It – it won’t happen again.”

“Good. If not, we may find ourselves back in this position.” Her spare hand rubbed at the small of Carol’s back, inching downwards as she spoke. “We’re halfway through your punishment. I think I’d like to hear just how good you’re going to be from now on.”

Carol drew a shaky breath, choosing her next words carefully. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, ma’am. I want to show you how well I can listen. How well I can follow your rules.” The more she spoke, the more natural it felt. The more natural it felt, the more she found herself believing her own words.

“That’s much better.”

A faint, satisfied smile played at Zosia’s lips as her hand ghosted down the curve of her ass. The teasing, the spanking, and sultry voices had all worked up an insurmountable amount of moisture between Carol’s thighs. She was almost certain she was leaking on to the bed. As Zosia’s fingers tracked lower and lower, she thought for sure her needs were finally being attended. All it took as a little ass kissing.

But just as Carol braced herself and steadied her racing heart, Zosia’s fingers didn’t quite reach the mark. She stopped short, her thumb brushing across her asshole. Carol would have ignored it, but she repeated the movement, pressing a little firmer. It evoked a visceral reaction, and Carol shot up onto her elbows.

“I uh, I think you got the wrong hole,” she nervously chuckled.

“I don’t.”

Carol craned her neck to catch Zosia’s eyes. The desire lurking beyond that beautiful face took her breath away and made her shudder. All at once, Carol recalled Zosia’s desire to explore that uncharted territory. Zosia raised her brow slightly, as if to question if she did in fact want to leave her ass just for spanking. The gentle press of her thumb and the quirk of her brow made a very compelling argument. After all, she did beg Zosia to do as she pleased.

“Sorry, ma’am. You’re right.”

Carol settled back into the bed, pulsing with each teasing swipe of her thumb. It was a bizarre sensation indeed, similar to the spanks. Her knee-jerk reaction was to pull away, but something more lustful inside of her leaned into the discomfort. Carol certainly enjoyed being miserable. And miserable was the only word that could encapsulate the way she fell apart beneath Zosia’s punishment so pathetically. She was more of a masochist than she even knew. Carol let out a long, drawn out moan encouraging any kind of touch Zosia would give her. Because at the end of the day, that’s all she really wanted. Spanking, stroking, it didn’t really matter. She just needed Zosia to touch her.

The paddle returned, not quite as harsh as before. Perhaps as a reward for letting Zosia play with her ass, or even for making those sounds she always asked for. Carol wasn’t quite sure. All she knew was the sting felt absolutely delicious as she started to relax under her steady rhythm. Zosia took a moment, gathering saliva in her mouth, and she let the drool roll off her tongue. It landed right where her thumb had been rubbing, and she wasted no time putting the lubrication to work.

Carol’s breath caught in her throat as she started to work her way in. It burned a little at first, but much like the paddle, the sensation was laden with pleasure. She let out a breathy whimper into the quiet room, squirming under the pressure. Her hips ground down against the mattress, seeking out any sort of friction, but her efforts were thwarted with another hard thwap. Carol cried out, gripping the sheets once more.

“Hold still,” Zosia said sharply. “This is a punishment.”

“Y-Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am… shit…” she grumbled into the mattress.

“You poor thing,” she sighed, her thumb pressing in even deeper. “You’ve just been so worked up, haven’t you?”

Carol nodded into the bed. “Y-Yes… ma’am…”

The pressure in her ass was mounting, and to her surprise, it was starting to feel good. Really good. Far better than she could have even imagined. When the paddle came down this time, Carol didn’t hiss or pull away. She took it right to the cheek, her numb flesh just begging for the impact. Another breathy whine slipped out, and Zosia picked up the pace.

“Almost there, baby,” she purred, her thumb working in and out at a steady tempo. “Two more and I’ll take such good care of you. You won’t be able to speak when I’m done with you.”

Carol was already losing that ability. She tried to garble out a response, but it got lost somewhere along the way. Zosia was pressing some button Carol didn’t even know could be pressed. Both of her cheeks were flushed, and that heat that had been bothering her all week started to build in her low belly.

Another strike from the paddle shocked her system, kicking her need into overdrive. It certainly didn’t feel like a punishment anymore. In fact, it felt like she was about to cum. A panic started to claw at her chest. She couldn’t finish now, not while things were just getting started. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on Zosia’s words rather than the tightening in her low belly.

“That’s a good girl. You’re taking me so well. I knew you’d do it for me, baby. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you? Answer me.”

God, she was making everything worse. Carol could just barely get the words out. “Yes… ma’am… I’d – I’d do anything…”

“That’s what I like to hear.” There was a smile in Zosia’s voice. She spat once more, then pressed all the way inside.

Carol’s eyes flew open as every muscle in her abdomen contracted, threatening to throw her right over the edge. She tried to give a warning, or some kind of indication, but her words were all coming out jumbled, and her squirming did nothing if not encourage Zosia to continue.

She cocked the paddle back, ready to end the punishment and finally get started. “You do as I ask because you’re mine. You hear me? No one else’s. Mine.”

The possessive claim was a fast ball, and the paddle hit a homerun. Carol finally snapped. All that heat that had been building finally won out, as she accidentally orgasmed. She gritted her teeth, as it passed over her, but it was nothing more than a flash in a pan. It was over almost as soon as it started, and it wasn’t satisfying in the slightest.

“No, no, no!” Carol cried into the sheets as her body twitched and tremored.

Zosia slowly slid out, palm gently caressing the red imprint she had imparted. She leaned down towards Carol’s face, gently brushing her hair to the side in hopes of catching sight of her face. “Carol? Are you ok?”

The embarrassment was a thousand times more excruciating than the mark on her ass. She just barely peeked up from her curtain of hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her voice was shaky and broken. “I… I think I just came.”

The worry marring Zosia’s face quickly melted away, a mixture of pity and amusement replacing it. “Oh?”

Tears started to sting in her eyes, and she quickly buried her face again.

“Carol.” Zosia always said her name so sweetly. “Hey, come here.”

Slowly, she coaxed her to roll to her side. Carol covered her eyes with trembling palms, desperately trying to hide the tears that were sure to come. The strong emotions washing over her were too much to bear. Disappointment, guilt, embarrassment. It all was mounting.

“I’m sorry,” Carol sniffled. “I was just… just so worked up and… fuck.”

“Don’t apologize. You held out for a long time, Carol.” She gave her long, soothing scratches up and down her back.

She took a shaky breath, still hiding behind her hands. “I just feel like I disappointed you.”

“Disappointed me?” Her hand stilled. “Carol, I’m incredibly proud of you. You let me mark you how I’ve always wanted to, you let me play with your ass, and that paddle?” There was a clear smile in her voice. “How long have you been waiting to break that in?”

Carol finally found the dignity to peek between her fingers. Sure enough Zosia was leaning on her fist, watching her with those hungry eyes, and waiting for her to recover from her humiliation.

“…Not long. I saw it and I thought of you.”

Zosia raised a brow, a smirk blooming across her face. “Ah, so the real question is how long have you wanted to be mine?”

When she said, ‘My name is Zosia Rybak. I’m teaching the ESL courses this semester.’ That was the real answer.

“A while,” Carol relented.

She smiled, eyes sweeping over the scape that laid before her, taking it all in. Zosia gently reached up for the dog tag once more, feeling the engraving. Carol wasn’t sure she had seen her quite so pleased before. Not this side of Zosia. Not this side that she suppressed for the comfort of others. It was coincidental how Carol herself had never felt more comfortable than she did at Zosia’s mercy. At the epicenter of her obsession. They managed to balance each other out perfectly. Perhaps kismet had something to do with it after all.

“I should have been more mindful of how sensitive you are,” Zosia admitted. She cut off Carol’s denial before she could even get the first word out. “There’s nothing wrong with it. You’re just more susceptible to certain things. I should have been more attentive. I will be more attentive.” She planted a gentle kiss on Carol’s warm lips, sealing her conviction. “Let me make it up to you.”

Zosia coaxed Carol up to the head of the bed, snuggling close beside her, and wrapping her in those long, sinewy arms. She sat a little cock-eyed due to the welt on her ass, but it was right where she wanted to be. Ragged and boneless against Zosia’s comforting presence. They kissed slow and sweet, reigniting that fire that had dwindled. Carol could tell immediately that Zosia hadn’t really cooled off. The kisses quickly became needy, and her hands started to wander down the curve of her hips.

Carol was still shaky and weak from all of the foreplay, but not so much that she couldn’t participate. She slipped her hands beneath Zosia’s blouse, fingers ghosting over her soft stomach. Carol wasn’t the only one who had waited all week. Zosia had to have been even worse than her after seeing that erogenous word printed on her ass cheek in cherry red. It only took Carol grazing her belt buckle for Zosia to derail her plans. With a firm grip, Zosia caught her by the wrist, and returned Carol’s hand to her side.

“This is for you,” Zosia purred. “Lay back. I want to show you how proud I am.”

The need between her legs was far from satisfied, and Zosia made sure to finally attend it. Deft fingers traced along the dip of her hip, making Carol shudder. As she delved past her tease of hair, Carol held her breath. This had to be a trap. Where was the rope? The dildos the size of her forearm? The instruments of torture Zosia was just itching to subject her to?

This felt too easy, but Carol’s apprehensions quickly went out the window because she touched her. Zosia pressed right up against that wet heat and finally fucking touched her. Carol let out a moan – perhaps a bit of an overdramatic one – as she finally got what she had been begging for.

“Oh Carol,” Zosia chuckled darkly, fingers swirling frictionlessly. “You poor thing. I didn’t realize how bad it was…”

“Really bad…” Carol said in a strained voice.

Zosia rubbed those delicious circles over her swollen clit, eliciting more grunts. She kissed along Carol’s neck once more, nose brushing against the collar, as she searched for some of those darker bruises. Another nip, just to make sure they’d stick.

Carol found herself twitching, and her hips started to buck up. That first orgasm did little to satiate her, and Zosia was happy to oblige. There was no reprimand for her movements, only a simple request.

“Use your voice, baby.”

“Can you…” she was already breathless. “Can you go in?”

Zosia didn’t waste a moment. She pressed her finger deep inside without any resistance. Gently, she pumped into her at a forgiving pace, curling as she pulled back out. It was just enough to get her back into things; just enough to get her heart racing again.

Zosia teased another one of the bruises with the scrape of her teeth, and it shot like lightning right to her loins. Perhaps Carol hadn’t truly cooled down either. That beautiful heat was starting to build, the dissatisfying throb giving way to what she was really craving.

“Oh my God…” Carol murmured, her eyes starting to roll. “You… you’re…”

Her breathing changed, and Zosia picked up on it instantly.

“You let me know when you’re close,” she said before burying herself in the crook of her neck once more.

She didn’t have to wait for long. That coil was tightening up quickly, and Carol was sure it wouldn’t take long to snap.

“Close –”

Zosia instantly slipped out, and she scanned the look of frustration on Carol’s face. “That was good. You are getting better at following my rules.”

Carol could barely catch her breath before she pressed back into her, a second finger added this time.

“You keep telling me when you’re close. I’ll tell you when you can cum. Understood?”

“Yes – ” The crook of Zosia’s fingers stole her voice for a moment. “Yes ma’am… I’ll listen.”

“Of course you will.” She sat back ever so slightly, watching Carol’s face, eyes black and hungry. “Because you’re a good girl, aren’t you? Say it.”

“I’m… I’m a good girl…”

“That’s right,” she said in a low growl, her fingers curling possessively inside of her, keeping the tension high. “And you want to be so good for me. Because you’re my good girl. Mine.”

“I’m…. I’m…” Carol could feel the pressure mounting, another wave threatening to crash. The only thing that could rival the urge to finish was the urge to do as she was told. “…m’close – “

She suddenly pulled out, and Carol clenched around the empty space, writhing and whining. Tears started to well in her eyes as she squirmed around, her frustration building even worse than before. Whatever pride she still hung onto was being stripped away with each edge of Zosia’s fingers.

“It’s right there.” Zosia was watching her closely. Every breath, every twitch. She was drinking it in. Relishing it. “Tell me what you want.”

“I wanna cum,” Carol muttered, her voice broken and defeated. The warm body at her side suddenly vanished, and she reached around helplessly in a moment of panic. “Baby?”

“I’m right here, kochanie. Just one moment.”

Zosia leaned over the edge of the bed, rifling around in her bag of tricks. At that point, Carol didn’t really give a shit what she pulled out. She was far too floaty, and her eyes too glassy. Not to mention the fact that she was dripping, senseless, and wearing nothing but a collar. Zosia crawled back, clutching only a small bottle of lube.

She squeezed a generous amount on her hand that was already quite saturated, fingers trembling almost as bad as her prey’s. Quickly she massaged it in, then went right back to work.

The stretch was intense as she worked her way back in. Carol lost count of how many fingers were pumping in and out of her, expletives slipping out with each thrust. She cried out at the intensity that was almost too much to bear, fingers wrapping around Zosia’s bicep hard enough to leave nail marks. Eyes squeezed tight, she tried to focus. Tried to hold on. Tried to be good.

“You’re covered in my marks. You can’t look in a mirror without seeing where I tasted you. Won’t be able to sit without thinking of me. Every inch of your skin is mine.” Zosia didn’t quite sound like herself. That unhinged edge to her voice would have been alarming if it wasn’t so fucking hot. “You’re taking me so good. Letting me stretch you out so you feel me for days. Think you can be a good girl and take some more?”

“I don’t… don’t think I… ” she couldn’t even finish the sentiment.

“You can’t?” The corner of Zosia’s mouth twitched into a smile. “But you want to, don’t you? You want to, for me.”

Carol’s voice faltered to breathy whimpers, no longer full sentences but desperate fragments. “Want… want to…” Her face puckered and her lip started to tremble.

Zosia’s voice was teaming with anticipation. “Is it making you sad not giving me what I want?”

Carol couldn’t speak, only faintly nod.

“Don’t be sad. Just give me what I want. What I know you want.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She nodded.

Zosia’s words worked in tandem with the handful of lube coating her hand as she slipped yet another finger in. Stuck on a plateau of pleasure, caught in limbo between ecstasy and overstimulation, Carol started to sob. It wasn’t pretty. It was an ugly, thunderous release of emotion at the frustration that finally broke her. She wasn’t present enough to feel embarrassed, let alone notice the way Zosia’s face lit up.

“There it is...” she laughed incredulously, like she had just made a scientific breakthrough. “Tak kochanie, let it out. Let it all out.”

Zosia leaned down, her warm tongue lapping up the hot tears streaking her face. Her breathing was just as ragged as Carol’s, growls rumbling in her throat as she gobbled up every ugly sob. “That’s a good girl. Such a good girl…”

The pressure against her walls was slowly becoming bearable as Zosia kept up that intense pace. Carol wanted to please her so bad. More than she even cared about her own pleasure or the tears streaming down her face. Zosia wanted her to push her limits – to take more. So, she decided she would. She started and stopped a few times, struggling to convey anything coherent.

“Another…” she finally rasped out, bracing herself for the stretch.

Zosia sat back, eyes as dark and wide as a desert night.

“Baby, that’s all of them.”

Shock sprung out of her chest. Carol craned her neck, finally catching sight of the place where Zosia was pumping into her.

She was buried past her wrist.

Her alarm was mitigated by Zosia cupping her face, urging her to make eye contact. She quickly worked to talk her down before she could pass out. “Eyes right here. Let it go, baby. Just let it all go.”

Her eyes glazed over, vision blurring with overwhelming sensation.

She couldn’t have prevented it if she tried.

Her mouth fell agape, nothing but a small cry escaping her as she fell apart. Eyes filled with tears, there was only one name on her lips.

“Zosia –” she sobbed.

The pleasure spilled over in a trembling rush, leaving Carol limp and shaking. More tears came with each wave that passed over as she held on tight, riding out the storm. Slowly, Zosia slid out, Carol’s walls still pulsing – aching for her.

After the storm, Zosia’s care was unwavering. She held Carol tight, letting her cry and come apart, kissing away every drop staining her cheeks.

“M’yours.” Carol sniveled weakly into Zosia’s neck as she rocked her, clinging to her like she was her lifeblood.

“Yes my love, you are. All mine.” Zosia rumbled, voice rough. The possession turned protection as she cradled her. Carol could only whine at the final swipe of a tongue up her neck, a final growl in her ear.

“Mine.”
------------------------------------------

The rest of the evening was a blur.

All Carol remembered was feeling loved.

Water, cold and refreshing was coaxed down her throat with an encouraging pet of the head. By contrast, the bath was steaming hot. Epsome salt and lavender bubbles caressed her achy body, bruises and all. She sat a little cock-eyed in the corner tub, her sore rear making it impossible to sit flat. Thankfully, that warm, welcoming body slipped into the water with her, offering something to lean on as she gently washed her from head to toe.

A generous amount of aloe was applied to the welt on her rear, then dabbed along all of the dark hickeys lining her neck and torso. Carol was in a relaxed daze as she was dressed, merely moving her limbs when instructed. More water was encouraged, as well as some leftover fruit from the party that felt like it was days ago. She finally sunk back into bed, sitting on a pack of ice, buried beneath a pile of blankets. Something about it felt heart-wrenchingly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

When that radiant warmth sunk into bed beside her, stroking her hair and whispering sweet sentiments, nothing else mattered. Even as Carol’s eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted in and out of sleep. Zosia continued petting her, humming unfamiliar lullabies under her breath. Being bathed, dressed, and fed settled her nerves better than any drug – any therapy. Every ache was dulled by the sweet sound of Zosia’s voice, and the steady thump of her heart.

She should have felt a lot of negative feelings about Zosia’s unhealthy obsession. Afraid, disgusted, betrayed. This woman wanted to know every corner of her brain, and twist it around her fingers until Carol was hers and only hers. It was something she should have ran from, but still, she found herself chasing it.

Because Zosia’s infatuation didn’t feel scary.

It felt like love.

As Carol drifted to sleep that night, wrapped in Zosia’s arms, she felt nothing but contentment. Just wave after wave of bliss and peace, and everything was perfect. No nightmares would find her that night, and no ghosts would be in their bed in the morning. When she woke, Zosia would be right beside her, and Carol would still be hers.

Chapter Text

Things were different.

Good different.

The ways in which Zosia showed up in their relationship changed. Instead of slipping out of bed at the first ring of her alarm, she’d shut it off and curl right up against Carol’s side. She’d stroke her hair, kiss her cheeks, and gently rouse her with honeyed sentiments.

“Your mind is so beautiful… your heart so giving… you’re a good person, Carol…”

They’d shower together, and Zosia was insistent on washing Carol’s body for her. It seemed like a bit of an odd request at first, but after the first few times, she really started to look forward to Zosia’s hands, slickened with soap, gliding all across her body. Afterwards, she’d repeat all of those same motions with lotion, massaging Carol until she was lethargic. No longer did Carol have to fret over her fashion choices, as Zosia took the liberty of picking out all of her outfits for her. There’d be something sensible laid out for her on the bed, accessories and all. Carol would give Zosia a twirl, showing off her selection, and she always gave the same compliment with hooded eyes and a low voice.

“Very handsome.”

Half of Zosia’s closet became filled with Carol’s clothing after only a couple of days. Breakfast and coffee would already be made. Always her favorites, hot and waiting on the table. Zosia would give her a kiss and scurry off to finish getting ready for school. Carol would take her time eating breakfast, doing some last minute grading on her laptop, and sneaking Rudy pieces of sausage. The new routine was a welcomed change. Being cared for so intimately filled a need Carol didn’t even know she had.

And then there was the sex.

God, the sex.

Zosia would tease her all day with lewd comments under her breath, groping between lectures, and kisses over lunch that would take her breath away. By the end of the night, she’d be gripping the sheets, breathless and ragged as Zosia just ate her up. Obedience was always rewarded with ecstasy; Carol learned quickly when to push and when to be a good girl. After that week without anything, Carol was taking advantage of Zosia’s very generous mood. A three-day sex bender left Carol love drunk all day, then begging for more every night. By the fourth day, she found herself getting rather antsy half-way through the work day.

It was Carol’s office hours, but she found herself wandering to the classroom in hopes of catching Zosia in another generous mood. It was her prep time, so they’d have a good fifteen minutes. Carol could get off in fifteen minutes. She really only needed five. But as she hurried in, her hopes were dashed.

“¡Estúpido!” Manousos shouted down from the top of a ladder. “Hold it still I said!”

“I am holding it still, you’re the one shaking it,” Koumba bit right back.

Apparently Manousos was also making the most of the empty classroom and using the opportunity to change out the lightbulb over the desk that had been flickering. Zosia had been watching the circus from the comfort of her chair, but Carol quickly stole her attention.

“Professor Sturka, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

It was comical the way she’d act so formal as if she hadn’t been pounding Carol into the mattress last night.

“I was um…” Carol paced up to the desk, eyes flitting between the idiots and the object of her affection. “I was just seeing what you were up to.”

Zosia looked her up and down, tongue darting out and wetting her lips. She knew exactly why Carol was there. Slowly, she turned her attention back to Manousos and Koumba. “I’m supervising these two to make sure no one breaks their neck.”

“I think Manny is going to break my neck if…” Koumba had been focusing on the ladder, but he caught sight of Carol and did a doubletake. “Your hair – “

The ladder shook.

“¡Pendejo!”

Koumba quickly steadied the ladder, mumbling under his breath. He let out a huff then looked to Carol once more, sweetening his tone. “You got a haircut I see.”

“I did,” she fussed with the shorter locks reflexively. “This feels much more like me.”

Koumba shrugged. “Well, it does make you look like a lesbian.” He caught himself, eyes wide as he glanced between the two women. “N-No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” Carol said flatly, her arms crossed.

Koumba quickly turned all of his attention back to the ladder he was doing a poor job of stabilizing.

“I love it,” Zosia chimed in, heart-eyed. She was the one who helped pick it out after all. “Reminds me of Jack from Titanic.”

“Does that make you Kate Winslet?” Carol asked with a grin.

“Only if you promise to draw me like one of your French girls.” She winked, making Carol all the more flustered.

Koumba snickered, speaking to Manousos in a low voice. “¿Crees que las chicas me dejarán mirar?”

A screwdriver dropped right on his head, the handle loudly bouncing off his skull. Koumba hissed, clutching the lump that was already starting to form. He gave the ladder a vindictive shake, earning him a slurry of Spanish swears.

“Boys,” Zosia warned. “Let’s play nice, hm? We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

The tone she used was the same Carol heard when she was laid out across Zosia’s lap with a cherry-red handprint on her ass. She could really go for some discipline – anything Zosia had in mind, really. She was craving some more spirit-breaking earth-shattering sex. Gags, whips, chains, anything that was rough. It was hard for anxiety to find her when she was on the receiving end of an open palm. Carol started to get restless, the same way she always did when the flask in her desk ran dry.

The light overhead blinked on, and Manousos clambered down. But as he went to step off the bottom rung, he lost his balance. Before he could fall, Koumba caught him against his chest. There was a strange moment of eye contact as Manousos gained his footing. It was awfully quiet too as he stared up at him.

Koumba cleared his throat. “Watch your step next time.”

Manousos quickly shoved him off. “Cabron,” he muttered, although it didn’t have the same heat as the other insults he had been serving up. Manousos packed up his toolbox, refusing to even glance in Koumba’s direction, lest he get lost in his eyes again.

Koumba tried to fold up the ladder, but he had clearly never been to planet earth before because he was struggling immensely. Carol glanced at the clock. Class would be starting soon.

“Hey, dumb and dumber, can we wrap this up? We’ve got work to do,” she snipped.

Manousos was growing irritated with Koumba’s attempts as well. He took over and folded up his ladder with a loud snap, shooting a look at Koumba. “You were no help. Gracias.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Koumba huffed, fussing with his suit that had been ruffled in his dainty attempt at manual labor.

“Let’s go pretty boy.” Carol started ushering him to the door.

Koumba scoffed, holding his ground for a moment as he looked between the two women incredulously. “I see what’s going on here. And you call me the town pervert…”

Carol’s cheeks started to grow warm. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing…” He took a few languid steps towards the exit. “You know Jack drowns at the end of the movie, right?”

Carol couldn’t be bothered to understand what it was he was getting at. She followed him down the aisle impatiently. “So now I’m drowning?”

Koumba shrugged, lingering in the doorway. His eyes flitted to Zosia still seated at the desk, busy shuffling papers. “I just want to make sure you still know how to swim. You know, if the ship starts to sink, I don’t want you going down too.”

Carol blinked a few times, not wanting to believe what he was saying. She kept her voice low enough Zosia couldn’t hear. “Could you cut the fucking metaphors? What the hell are you insinuating?”

He matched her volume. “You two have been inseparable lately. I just worry for your well-being if something were to happen between you two. That little ‘bender’ you went on was frightening. As much as it would increase the value of my signed copy of Wycaro, I really would hate it if you drank yourself to death.”

Her jaw tightened, as did her grip on the doorknob. “Zosia and I are happier than ever. And I’m 30 days sober, by the way, so thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“I know.” There was a lingering sadness behind his eyes. “And I really hope things stay that way.” He let out a heavy sigh, but the weight never left his shoulders. “I will leave you to your tryst.”

Carol quickly shut the door behind him, miffed by the very suggestion of her and Zosia breaking up. It really came out of nowhere. All she could reason was that he’d been talking to Laxmi the last few days. Because she had already heard the same exact thing from her, and already denounced the very idea. Things were finally going right with Zosia, and she had no time for naysayers.

“Everything alright?” Zosia asked as Carol shuffled back towards the desk.

“Fine, just…” She huffed. “Just Koumba being a pig.”

Zosia clicked her tongue, setting her papers down and tenting her long fingers. “Carol, can I ask just what it was you came here for?”

She swallowed hard. That searing gaze and raised brow made it impossible to meet her eyes. “Well, I’m just a little stressed and I thought maybe… you could help.”

“It’s about court tomorrow, isn’t it?” Zosia asked as she leaned back in her chair. “No reasonable judge will charge you with a felony. I’ve been studying. From what I can gather, the worst you’ll get is a fine and some community service.”

Carol’s shoulders sagged. She was hoping they could have just skipped all of the anxiety-inducing courtroom talk and got right down to business. Still, her nerves were a little fried, even with Zosia’s reassurances.

“I’d rather go to prison than do community service.”

Zosia gave her that look. The ‘you’re doing too much’ look.

Carol relented only a fraction. “I just don’t see things going my way, given my driving record. That’s all.”

Zosia pushed back from the desk and walked around. A tight embrace slowed Carol’s racing mind. She nuzzled into her a moment, inhaling deeper. Vanilla and bergamot wrapped around her evocative natural scent, flooding her with memories of skin against skin. Zosia could give her nothing but comfort, and Carol would be on her like one of Harlow’s monkeys.

Zosia leaned back, a smile gracing her features as her hands tangled in those blonde locks. “If they send you to prison, I’ll join you. Either that, or we can flee the country. Your choice.”

Carol laughed at the idea, but Zosia hesitated to join in. Perhaps she hadn’t meant it as a joke.

“Fleeing sounds much better,” Carol smiled. “We could be fugitives traveling the world together. We’ll be like an international Bonnie and Clyde.”

Her lips puckered into a pout as she gave it some thought. “I’m not sure I know that one.”

“They were two outlaws in love on the run from the law.”

Zosia hummed. “Did they get a happy ending?”

Carol hesitated, her gaze drifting to the banner of flags strung up. They could probably make it to most of those countries if they left now. A blaze of glory. “It was definitely one to remember…”

Zosia gently squeezed her shoulders, bringing her back to the present. “Well, let’s focus on the positives. You’re an esteemed member of the community, your lawyer is… well, he wasn’t cheap. But most of all, you’ll have me right by your side. Good or bad, I’m here for you, Carol.” She gave her a kiss, gentle and sweet. “I’m not letting anyone take what’s mine.”

Gooseflesh prickled up Carol’s arms, and her voice came out shaky. “Yeah? How about you show me who I belong to?”

Her words seemed to do the trick, for a moment, at least. Zosia looked down at her through hooded eyes. Those dexterous hands wandered down the expanse of her back, roaming across all of the curves she spent the nights memorizing. She leaned in, as if to indulge her with a kiss, but stopped just a hair short.

“I have a lecture in ten minutes.”

“I only need five.”

Her lips curled into an amused smile. “Oh, I know.” Zosia relinquished her with a sigh, returning to her prep work. “But I like to take my time with you. You know this.”

“Yeah, I know,” Carol snipped, then let out a frustrated sigh.

A cold draft seemed to wash over the classroom. Zosia’s fingers stilled, and she glanced over her shoulder. Her voice was cold.

“I sure hope that wasn’t attitude I just heard.”

Carol’s heart started racing. Perhaps she could get her fix after all. Head held high, she rose to the challenge. “Maybe it was… what are you going to do about it?”

Much to her dismay, Zosia didn’t play into it. She simply shook her head, returning to her teaching materials. “Acting like a brat won’t get you what you want. We can work on that tonight. For now, how about you sit in on my lecture. That way I can make sure you don’t go running back to your desk for a quick fix.”

Carol’s cheeks instantly started to burn. “You’re really not going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

It was hard to get any work done with Professor Rybak in her line of sight. Carol tried to finish grading some quizzes, but everything seemed to distract her. That high-waisted skirt and thin sweater hugging her figure. The clack of her heels and that airy laugh as she paced about, talking with her hands and stressing verb conjugation. The way she’d pause as a student was speaking, fingers absently tracing along her jaw as she focused. Worst of all, her eyes kept drifting to her fellow professor camped out in the back of class.

It was embarrassing just how hot and bothered Carol found herself. Every subtle glance, every casual toss of Zosia’s hair, just made her pulse quicken. It started to feel intentional, especially as Zosia leaned on the edge of the desk, pretending to scratch a spot just above her collarbone. It was the exact spot where Zosia had latched onto Carol, leaving a dark bruise that makeup couldn’t fully conceal. Even after a few days of healing, it was just as prominent. A constant reminder of who she belonged to.

Zosia Rybak. Always the teaser, never the teased. Well Carol was about to put a stop to that. She glanced all around the room, desperate for inspiration. It was hard to do anything subtle from the back of the class. She could make a lewd gesture, but that would earn her an eyeroll at most. Carol wanted to get under her skin. Give her a taste of her own medicine. As Zosia stood from the desk and paced back to the blackboard, she noticed her phone sitting face up on the desk.

There it was. A stroke of genius.

When her back was turned, Carol snuck out of class. She scurried down the hall, jittery with anticipation. A swift glance up and down the empty hall, and she slipped into her office, locking the door. She took to unbuttoning her shirt with shaky fingers. There were still plenty of dark marks concealed beneath the cotton. Zosia not-so-accidentally left a few more during their last encounter, and she had been ogling them in the shower. Perhaps she’d like a more permanent reminder.

Carol unclasped her bra, setting it to the side, then pulled up her phone camera. It wasn’t until she saw her bare chest reflected back at her that she hesitated. The last time she took a nude photo of herself was on a Polaroid in her 20s. A little present for Helen on Valentine’s Day. It had been a long time since she had felt confident enough to capture herself in that way again, yet here she was, taking a picture of her bare chest because she knew it’d drive Zosia crazy. It was remarkable just how much Zosia had changed her.

She snapped the risqué photo, then took to dressing. By the time she made it back to the classroom, only a few minutes had elapsed. Short enough for her absence to be shrugged off as a bathroom break. Zosia certainly didn’t question it. She simply flashed a smile upon Carol’s return as she continued with her lecture.

“Then we have the irregular verbs. You know some of these. Like how eat becomes ate, and run becomes ran. Now, can anyone tell me what rules our irregular verbs follow?”

Professor Rybak glanced around the room, finding no volunteers. She leaned against the desk once more, and her eyes landed on Carol at the back of class. A pleasant smile sprawled across her face. “Professor Sturka. Do you know the rules?”

Carol perked up. The suggestiveness in her tone seemed to allude to an innuendo behind her words. Carol knew that the photo she was about to send broke just about every rule she could think of. Still, with her phone in her lap and thumb hovering, she was just bubbling with excitement.

“There are no rules,” Carol said as she tapped ‘send’.

“Exactly,” Zosia drawled.

Before she could continue, her phone buzzed right beside her. She spared it a brief glance, but then did a double take once she saw who it was from. Brows furrowed, her eyes flitted to Carol at the back of class, as if to ask her what it could possibly be.

“Sorry, one moment…” she announced.

Curiosity quickly took hold as Zosia picked up her phone and investigated. The moment her finger slid across the screen, she froze. Even from the back of class, Carol could see the way her breath hitched and eyes widened, even if it was only for a millisecond. She regained her composure at a breakneck pace, acting as if it were simply some automated message she couldn’t care less about. With a slow moving hand, she gently flipped her phone face down, drawing the least amount of attention to it.

“Apologies.” She cleared her throat, her expression hardening as she took to pacing once more. She refused to so much as glance in Carol’s direction. “That’s right Professor Sturka. Irregular verbs don’t follow any rules. The breast – “ She caught her Freudian slip a moment too late, stammering as she did so. “T-The best way to remember them is to simply study…”

The rouge tint creeping up her neck was undeniable, and it was even better than Carol imagined. She sat back, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Finally, Zosia was the flustered one. Professor Rybak moved on with her lesson, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere as she paced before the blackboard rather aimlessly. The cool, calm, and collected façade she wore was a noble attempt, but Carol just knew her heart was racing. God, it felt good to be on top for once.

The rest of the lecture was uneventful, save for Zosia’s clearly cluttered mind. She wrapped up a few minutes early, sending students on their way with a smile and a wave. The last few stragglers filtered out, but Carol remained. She slowly rose from her seat, waiting for the last of the students to depart. Nonchalantly, she latched the classroom door, twisting the lock. Whatever conversation Zosia wanted to have would be one best had in private. Besides, it was the end of the school day, and they had nowhere to be.

Carol tucked her hands into her pockets, strutting down the aisle. She had the upper hand as it would seem, as Zosia still refused to meet her eye, shuffling her papers with little purpose. With diminishing steps, Carol stopped right beside her, tone low and challenging.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Professor Rybak?”

Zosia paused a moment, coming to some kind of resolve before she finally turned to meet her. With narrow eyes and a set jaw, she loomed over Carol, her very essence threatening to tear into her. But she didn’t speak. She simply took Carol by the hand and welcomed her down the front of her waistband. Carol couldn’t even fully reconcile before she was met with the dripping heat between her thighs. All thoughts ceased, and her breathing hitched as she felt that accumulation of desire.

With unwavering eye contact, Zosia tugged her hand back out, palm pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She brought her hand to Carol’s mouth, urging her to take her own fingers between her teeth. Steady eye contact, measured force, and a whole hell of a lot of boldness left Carol slack jawed. She tasted her own fingers, Zosia’s very essence lighting up her tastebuds, salty and sweet.

“You see what you did to me?” Zosia asked.

Carol’s mouth was a little preoccupied, drool starting to drip from the very corners. All she could do was nod out of agreement and a little bit of self-satisfaction.

“You’ve made a mess.” Zosia’s eye-contact was unwavering as her hands disappeared up her skirt. After a moment, she yanked down her panties. Carol’s heart had to have hit the floor at the same exact time. Zosia tugged them off her ankles, and tossed them haphazardly on the desk. In one swift movement, she snatched Carol by the collar, capturing every bit of her attention. She walked her back behind the desk until the backs of Zosia’s knees hit the swivel chair. Sinking into the seat, she urged Carol to stoop.

“On your knees.”

She was there in an instant, hands steadying herself on her thighs. The taste of Zosia was still dancing on her tongue, and anticipation excited every nerve in her body.

Zosia’s voice was firm and commanding. “That was very out of line, Carol. Now you’re going to clean up the mess you made.”

Zosia leaned back, spreading her knees wide. A flower bloomed right before Carol’s eyes, and she watched eagerly as that glistening flesh practically called out to her. The nude photo had turned her on far more than Carol had expected. She must have been ruminating over it for those last 30 minutes. Dreaming about all those marks and just how many more she could leave. Fantasizing about how obedient Carol would be for her.

It wasn’t a farse. Carol was obedient. When there was a dripping wet cunt only inches from her nose, she was nothing if not submissive. Carol eagerly took to the mess she had caused. Lips and tongue reaching out toward her heat. Carol buried herself beneath her skirt, lapping up every last bit of Zosia that threatened to drip out.

Zosia’s breath hitched at the contact, and she let out a steady sigh. Her fingers twisted in that mop of blonde hair, beckoning her closer. “This is what you wanted, right? To get a rise out of me?”

It certainly was. Carol hummed in agreement, tongue flicking across her eagerly. The thought of sex in the classroom normally made Carol quite anxious. What if someone were to hear them? What if someone saw them grinding against one another through the frosted glass? At least on her knees, Carol was concealed behind the bulky desk. There was a thrill to eating her out in such a public place. Surely Zosia felt that same rush, as she was already bucking up into Carol’s mouth, desperate for more pressure.

“I bet you’re really proud of yourself.” Zosia’s breath was ragged. “Unraveling me like this. You – “

The lock turned.

Time stood still as Zosia reacted on pure instinct. She sat erect, hands shooting to Carol’s shirt as she practically threw her beneath the desk. She wheeled the chair right into the slot, cramming her spindly legs in the tight space with her breathless and cunt-drunk cohort.

Carol was certain her heart had stopped beating as she held still and listened to the door open. There was more than one set of footsteps, and familiar voices in muted conversation. They seemed just as surprised to find the classroom occupied as Zosia and Carol were to be interrupted mid lay.

“¡Hola Manousos!” Zosia chirped, somehow even more chipper than usual. The reason for her overenthusiasm became evident as she continued. “And Dean Winters! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Carol’s heart dropped to her ass.

“Oh, Miss Rybak, I didn’t mean to intrude. Mr. Oviedo said there were some floor tiles he noticed that need to be replaced. We won’t be long.”

Dean Winters’ voice drew closer as he paced down the aisle, pointing out some wear and tear. Thankfully, the leg space beneath the desk was covered from the front. There was only a one-inch gap between the wood and the floor. Not enough to reveal Carol’s hiding spot, but she could see shadows encroaching.

There was a misunderstanding between Manousos and the dean as they tried to work out exactly what the other was trying to say. Zosia quickly jumped in as a pseudo-translator. Carol could only guess that she wanted to speed up the process and get back to business.

“Está preguntando si hay más o si necesita pedir más,” she chimed in.

“Necesita comprar más. Mucho más. Y no los de mierda,” Manousos stressed.

“You’ll need a lot more, sir.”

Dean Winters hummed, clearly not pleased. “Tell him I’ll have to see what’s on sale.”

Zosia was pressed as close as she could be, ribs digging into the desk. Papers shuffled above Carol’s head, but she knew damn well Zosia wasn’t reading a single word. Try as she might, she still shifted in her seat, knees restless on either side of Carol’s head. Surely if Zosia weren’t so amicable, she’d have kicked them out and made Carol finish the job. After all, Zosia’s libido was just as bad as Carol’s. Maybe even worse. She just knew how to conceal it. How to act.

An idea popped into Carol’s mind. A terrible yet thrilling idea.

How well could Zosia act with Carol’s tongue against her?

The conversation continued overhead as Carol found herself more and more distracted. She gently stroked up Zosia’s leg, reminding her of their predicament. There was a tremble beneath her fingertips at the unexpected brush of skin. But Zosia was quick to still herself. There was a slight nudge from her heel, urging Carol to behave, but the warning wasn’t heeded.

Her lips were still damp with Zosia’s desire, and she planted a few wet kisses along the inside of her thigh. For a moment, her knees spread wider. Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps it was a lapse in judgement. Either way, Zosia didn’t let her lust control her for long. She squeezed her legs tighter, but Carol was already wedged too far up her skirt.

With her lips only a fraction away from that radiant heat, Carol let out a puff of air. Zosia twitched in her seat, and Carol’s lips twitched into a smile. Perfect. Once the conversation drifted away, she leaned in, giving a long, languid lick. Zosia let out a muted, shaky breath. Not one the gentlemen would notice, but it was all Carol could focus on as she started licking her at a steady pace.

Manousos was quickly growing irritated with the dean’s shortcuts. He pointed overhead at the rusted metal ceiling tiles. “Es necesario reparar el tejado antes de hacer cualquier otra cosa. Si llueve, todo se estropeará.”

There was a moment of silence before the dean finally prompted Zosia. “Miss Rybak?”

“Right… percece…” Zosia’s answer became muddled for a moment as Carol sucked her clit up between her lips. “S-Sorry, I just have this incessant migraine that won’t quit,” she said pointedly. There was another nudge of the foot, harder this time. “He’s talking about the precipitation. You’ll need to fix the roof before he fixes the floor.”

The conversation moved on, but Carol didn’t slow down. If anything, the crack in Zosia’s composure filled her with more vigor. There was a rush to it she hadn’t felt before. Any slipup and they’d be caught. That would be the end of Professor Sturka and Professor Rybak. All it took was one moan, one shudder. The edge between ecstasy and expulsion hit harder than any drug, and Carol went all in. Her hand crept up, joining her mouth in the sloppy mess that was mounting. Palm against her chin, she slowly pressed a finger in and curled.

“Kurwa…” the word just slipped right out under her breath.

“What was that?” Dean Winters asked.

“Just… just this migraine.” She was quick to cover, but her breath still escaped her. “How much longer will you be?”

“We’ll wrap up soon,” he confirmed before returning to talk of tiles.

Carol curled her finger once more, lips clamping down on the swollen bud. She wished she could see the look on Zosia’s face. Every movement had to have been driving her mad. Driving her closer and closer. Carol increased the pressure between her teeth as her finger curled at a torturous pace.

Suddenly, Zosia’s heel was on Carol’s thigh as she dug in. It was hard and urgent. One final warning in a moment of panic.

She was about to finish.

Certainly, any sane person would have stopped. They wouldn’t have risked a finale with their boss only a few feet away. Yet, here Carol was, pressing on. Zosia would make sure she couldn’t sit right after this, and that only made her more excited. More determined. Perhaps Carol was just as crazy as Zosia, because she’d do just about anything to be at her mercy once more.

All at once, her breathing ceased, and every muscle in her abdomen contracted. There was a tremor in her leg even her taunt muscles couldn’t rein. Those once forgiving walls tightened, pulsing around Carol’s crooked finger. Surprisingly, Zosia didn’t make a peep. She was silent as her orgasm pumped through her veins in a flush of heat. Surely if the roles were reversed, Carol wouldn’t be able to be so stoic.

Finally, Zosia let out the breath she had been holding, and Carol had enough grace to ease off. There was a dull ache from where her heel had been digging. It was sure to leave a bruise. A reminder just for Carol this time.

“Alright, alright.” Footsteps receded, as did Dean Winter’s voice. “I’ll see what I can order. Gracias. And Gracias to you too, Miss Rybak.”

She only hummed in recognition.

The door clicked closed behind them, and all restraint shattered. Zosia grasped Carol’s collar, urgency electric in her touch, dragging her up and out from under the desk before she could protest. They both stood there a moment, Carol pinned against the desk, her shirt balled in Zosia’s fists. The wild look in her eyes could only be rivaled by the blood starting to leak from her bottom lip. Carol quickly realized that was how Zosia managed to stay so quiet. She was biting her lip so hard it drew blood.

Zosia’s hand flew to Carol’s jaw, colliding with enough force to jolt her out of her trance. She seemed to cycle through mania, rage, and desire all before she finally spoke, grip tight as ever.

“Do you think that was cute? We could have been caught, Carol. We could have lost our jobs. You do realize how dangerous this game of yours was, don’t you?”

Carol swallowed hard, trying her best to fully realize the gravity of the situation, but her mind was elsewhere. Zosia looked really hot when she was pissed off. Perhaps Carol was still a little drunk off of her, because her lips looked even more kissable than usual. Carol leaned forward, desperate to share the taste on her tongue, but Zosia’s arm stiffened. She held her right in place, annoyance mingling with intrigue. Zosia’s eye twitched as she scanned Carol’s features.

“Color.”

“Huh?”

Zosia gave her a little shake, forcing her to focus. “Color.”

Carol’s heart pounded in her ears and between her legs. There wasn’t an ounce of mercy in Zosia’s searing gaze.

“Green,” she rasped. “So fucking green…”

In an instant, Zosia relinquished her. Carol slumped against the desk, her breaths returning, unnerved and broken. She rubbed at her sore jaw as she watched Zosia march towards the door. Where the hell was she going? Carol thought to ask, but the words never left her lips.

Zosia opened the door wide and took a single step out into the hall. A quick glance either direction, then she turned right around, heels clicking all the way back. Carol held her breath. There was no way to predict her next move, and God did it make Carol’s heart race. Zosia marched right up, as sure as ever, and pulled Carol into a hungry kiss. Iron mingled with the sweetness still coating her tongue, and for a moment, she found herself entirely lost in the taste. But that open doorway was a blight on her subconscious, and her eyes drifted to it. Carol pulled back a moment, anxiety seeping through the opening.

“Someone could walk by.”

Zosia’s expression was somehow even more unraveled than it had been before. It was reminiscent of the night she had claimed Carol all for herself. She let out an incredulous snort, her manner of speaking verging on patronizing.

“What’s wrong? You weren’t scared of being caught a minute ago.”

“W-Well yeah, but – “

Zosia forcefully spun her around, pressing her hips up into her, effectively pinning her in place. They both gazed down the aisle and out into the foreboding doorway. Zosia snaked her hands up her shirt, feeling everything Carol had photographed for her. The firm squeezes made her tremble, as did Zosia’s hot breath right on her ear.

“Anyone could walk by right now and see me touching you. Feeling you…” She gave another hard squeeze.

Carol planted her hands on the desk for balance as her knees started to grow weak. Really, just Zosia’s voice alone could get her like this. Get her so dizzy she could barely stand. Barely remember where she was. But one of Carol’s hands landed in something soft and damp, and she couldn’t help but investigate. She picked up the cotton briefs Zosia had tossed on her desk and apparently forgot.

“You think anyone saw these?” Carol asked. The taunt was shaky and nervous at best. Zosia wasn’t exactly in a state to be teased, yet she couldn’t resist.

Zosia’s movements froze. It seemed that she really did forget about her underwear on the desk. Perhaps there was even a blush to her cheeks. Something Carol could hold over her head, the same way Zosia still brought up the desk humping incident. Whatever her reaction was, Carol never got to see it. Because Zosia ripped the panties from her grasp and stuffed them in Carol’s mouth.

In the blink of an eye, her chest was flat against the desk. Deft fingers worked quickly to tug her pants down to her knees. Zosia wrangled Carol’s arms with skill, securing both of her wrists with only one, strong hand. In a matter of seconds, she was completely subdued. The cotton between her teeth suppressed any of her protests as Zosia took to mounting her, skirt hiked, and that wet heat pressed flush against her ass. She rolled her hips forward, and Carol’s eyes grew wide as she realized she was just going to hump her right there.

“You want me to stop, baby?” Zosia asked rather sarcastically. Her thrusts were intense as she butted up against her. Intense enough that the desk was pressing into Carol as well, sending muted zaps of pleasure throughout her body. “Because I don’t think you want me to stop. I think this is exactly what you wanted, you little brat.”

She wasn’t wrong. Any touch from Zosia was more than welcomed, even if she was only receiving it vicariously through her desk. Carol kept an eye on the doorway as Zosia thrusted even harder, but she was losing her never. The carnal way Zosia took to her, humping her like a needy animal, was intoxicating. Her nails dug into Carol’s wrists as her other hand gripped her at the nape of the neck, forcing her into submission.

She very well could have spit out the underwear and put an end to the incredibly risky endeavor. It would only take one straggling student to ruin their reputation. But with Zosia’s entire being weighing down on her, grinding into her, claiming her, it was impossible to care. Carol’s eyes started to flutter shut as Zosia’s vigor reached a dangerous level.

“You thought that was cute, didn’t you?” She puffed, voice trembling. “Sending me that photo… disobeying me… kurwa mać…”

Carol whimpered around the cotton now soaked in her saliva. Her whole body was crying out for a release as Zosia pressed even closer, every movement driving her mad. Zosia’s lips brushed her ear, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You keep testing me... and you’re going to find out just how far I’ll go.”

The words shook Carol to her core.

It was a promise.

Everything with Zosia went so much deeper than she initially thought. They had only scratched the surface before, but now, she was seeing that side of Zosia that scared off her previous lovers. That unhinged, obsessive love. The kind that bathed her, dressed her, and fucked her with little regard for prying eyes. It was intense, blinding even. Any rational person would be terrified.

But Carol stopped being rational long ago.

The desk screeched as it scraped across the worn out tiles. Anyone in the Foreign Language Hall could have heard them at that point, but it still wasn’t enough for Carol to drop her gag. The pressure from the desk was heavenly, and Zosia’s weight bearing down on her made her floaty. She couldn’t wait for Zosia to flip her over and properly claim her. She could leave any mark she wanted, and plunder any hole she pleased. Anything to keep riding that high.

Zosia’s breathing faltered, and her grip tightened. Those intense hip movements hitched, and a moan squeezed past her ragged lips. It was so incredibly gratifying to hear her lose control like that. To hear her give in and take Carol for all she was worth. A muted swear escaped her lips as she finally reached her peak, cumming against Carol’s ass. She let out a shaky breath, hips trembling and twitching as she rode it out all the way to the end of her orgasm.

Even as her weight lifted off of her, Carol didn’t move. She held still, waiting for a swat on the ass or a steady hand massaging her cunt. But it never came. Heels clicked around to the front of the desk as Zosia came into view. There was a sweat on her brow and she was still panting as she smoothed out her skirt. She didn’t have a smile for Carol. Only a simple command.

“Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

Carol mumbled out a protest from behind the makeshift gag. She quickly removed it with her trembling fingers. “W-What? You’re… you’re really not gonna – ”

“That was for the photo,” Zosia said, unmoved by her desperation. “We’ll deal with your disobedience under the desk at a later date. Now come. You still have to prepare for court tomorrow morning. I’m sure it’ll take us all night.”

Zosia turned on her heel and strutted right out of the classroom, not offering an ounce of relief for the mess of a woman splayed on the desk.

---------------------------------------------

Carol fussed with her hair in the scummy mirror, then adjusted her navy blazer. She hated court. Not that anyone enjoyed it, but Carol always struggled to know what to say. She’d get lost on some tangent, doing little for her case except dragging out the inevitable. Today wouldn’t be any different. As far as Carol was concerned, the judge made up their mind before she ever stepped foot in the courtroom.

“You look great,” Zosia said, leaning against a sink and watching her fret. Really, Zosia was the one that looked great in her matching mauve suit. “We should probably get in there, though.”

Carol let out a heavy exhale. Stalling in the bathroom wasn’t doing anything except worsening her anxiety. She didn’t want to think about court, the judge, or the verdict. She just wanted to escape it all.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Carol admitted, changing the subject entirely. “I didn’t mean to cross any lines when I… you know…”

Zosia’s brows raised a fraction. Her eyes scanned across the empty stalls before she indulged her. “It was quite stupid. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love every second of it.”

Carol perked up. “You did?”

Zosia’s tongue swiped across her bottom lip, tasting the raw flesh that was slow to heal. “It was certainly one for the books. You’re bold, Carol Sturka. Very bold. It keeps things… exciting.”

The weight on her shoulders was lifted a fraction. “I’m glad you find me exciting.”

Zosia relented a little, letting out a chuckle that echoed off the tiled walls. “I find you addictive.”

The bathroom door swung open, and an elderly woman in a pantsuit shuffled past. Zosia stood a little straighter. Her expression softened into a smile, returning to the meek professor with a soft spot for her troubled colleague.

“Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

They left the bathroom, hand in hand. Carol’s palms were clammy as she held Zosia in an iron grip. In the next hour or so, her fate would be sealed. For her efforts to evade the police, she could very well be sentenced to prison. Zosia was the only thing keeping her sane as they trudged down the hall. Because Zosia wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let Carol be isolated again, with only the sound of a distant train horn to bring her hope.

Carol’s lawyer was pacing outside the courtroom door, talking on an earpiece. They had never actually met in person, but she recognized his face instantly from the billboard. He caught sight of the pair waiting to properly make his acquaintance.

“You must be Carol.” He flashed a toothy grin, holding out his hand towards Zosia. “Saul Goodman, attorney at law; masseuse upon request.” He gave her a wink. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She reluctantly shook his greasy palm. “Oh, I’m Zosia, her girlfriend. This is Carol.”

Saul turned to her blonde companion, and he faltered. There was a moment of silence as he took a good long look at her. Like he had seen a ghost. Zosia didn’t let it go on much longer, as she was clearly displeased by the way this man was staring at her girlfriend.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Goodman?” She asked, tone sharp.

He blinked a few times, snapping out of it. “Yes, yes, everything’s just peachy.” He stood a little straighter, fussing with the knot in his tie. “You just look like someone I used to know...” Whatever strange feelings overtook the eccentric lawyer seemed to dissipate as he held the door open for the couple. “Alright ladies, let’s get that inheritance!”

Carol paused. “I’m here for fleeing and evading.”

Saul scratched his head a moment. “Oh really? I thought that was next week…” He clicked his tongue, shrugging it off. “Eh, you seen one F&E, you’ve seen them all. Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here in a jiff, Kim.”

“Carol – “

“Right.” He squeezed his eyes shut and winced. “Right… let’s just… get this thing over with.” He trudged into the courtroom even more sadly than Carol.

She was frozen at the precipice. They could just leave now. Travel the world on the run. Never have to be separated or tied down, only tethered to each other as they floated around. They could find the end of the tracks. The other side of the sea.

Zosia gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, snapping her back to the present. “You don’t have to do this all alone, alright? I’ll be right by your side the whole way.”

Carol squeezed back even harder. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she stepped forward, prepared to face her fate.