Chapter Eighteen

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Almost too smoothly, Tessa thought, which made her question when the other shoe would drop. Except she knew which shoe was readying to fall, and the exact date it would plummet out of her life.

The foundation kept Tessa too busy during the day to dwell on the steady approach of summer’s end. The consultant she and the Byerlys had hired was helping tremendously. By mid-summer, they had written a mission statement, completed a business plan, and defined specific areas of funding interest. They’d also found an executive director, an experienced (female) professional from Seattle, and hired an attorney to incorporate the foundation and an accountant to oversee finances. In the next ten weeks, the plan was to identify candidates for the board of directors, choose a name, move into new offices downtown, hire staff, create a Web site and begin raising funds. The list sounded daunting to Tessa and the Byerly sisters, but the consultant assured them two and a half months was plenty of time to complete the tasks they’d set for themselves.

Tessa loved what she and the Byerlys were accomplishing, but she loved even more coming home each afternoon to Laya and Eleanor. The moment she walked in the door, Laya would drop whatever she was doing and fling herself into Tessa’s arms, and she would kiss her daughter’s hair and smile at Eleanor over Laya’s head, seeing her own pleasure reflected in those open, blue-green eyes. Eleanor continued to captivate Tessa with her honesty and humor, her ardent responses, her generosity in lovemaking. Though as the summer wore on, they didn’t necessarily have to devour one another’s bodies as soon as Laya was asleep. While the sex had been remarkable right from the start, it wasn’t the only thing between them. For Tessa, at least, it never had been, which was why she was trying so hard to forget about September.

In mid-July, she and Eleanor agreed it was probably time to branch out beyond their domestic bliss and finally have their friends over for dinner. Sasha and Will had been harassing them for weeks now, so they figured they might as well ante up and host a dinner party. For their first foray into public coupledom, the guest list would be small: Sasha and her date, Allen, and Will and his partner, Scott. Laya, meanwhile, would be spending the night at Rayann’s house. Margot was out of town (otherwise she and her husband would have rounded out the list), but Olivia, Rayann’s nanny, was a close friend of Ama’s, and Tessa had no qualms about leaving Laya in her care. For her part, Laya was so excited about the exotic experience of sleeping over at Rayann’s house that she quickly got over being left out of the dinner party.

The next to last Saturday of July, Tessa and Eleanor welcomed their guests into the inner lair, Eleanor’s nickname for Tessa’s house. Sasha and Allen, a fellow associate from her firm, arrived first, and Eleanor ushered them into the kitchen where Tessa had set up a small bar at the island.

“Sasha and Allen, meet Tessa,” Eleanor said, smiling a little nervously. She was dressed in gray trousers and a silk shirt of Tessa’s that brought out the blue in her eyes.

“Pleasure to finally meet you,” Tessa said, setting down a wine rabbit to shake hands with the two attorneys. Allen seemed a bit shy, tugging on his tie as he squeezed her fingers, but Sasha’s grip was firm, her eyes inquisitive.

“You too,” she said. “Eleanor, of course, has spoken of you often.”

Tessa knew the cliché she was expected to offer—All good things, I hope?—but she opted for the less schmaltzy, “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“You have a beautiful home,” Sasha went on.

“Thank you.” Hoping she exuded calm, Tessa met the other woman’s probing gaze. As Eleanor’s closest friend, Sasha would probably be trying to gauge Tessa’s worth as a mate, just as Will would be evaluating Eleanor. No pressure, Tessa thought, glad as she often was in social situations that she’d acted for so many years. Projecting fake serenity was a skill that came in mighty handy outside the film world.

As Eleanor opened the oven door to check on the salmon, her former roommate looked over her shoulder.

“What, no stir-fry?” Sasha asked.

Tessa watched in amusement as Eleanor turned and smacked her on the ass. Then the doorbell sounded again, and Tessa excused herself.

“Where’s the hunky butler?” Will asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek as he entered the house.

Scott pecked her other cheek. “Don’t mind him. He’s just having a flashback to the last Chuck Platte party we went to.”

Chuck Platte was a notorious flamer who hosted regular boy-only fêtes at his Beverly Hills mansion.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Tessa said, accepting the bottle of wine they offered, “but you two are the only hunky homos here tonight.”

“Somehow I think we’ll make do,” Scott said. “Now, where’s this woman of yours? Will has been dying to meet the lesbian who could tame you.”

“I haven’t been tamed,” Tessa insisted, but Will just looked at her.

In the kitchen, as Will tasted Eleanor’s homemade salad dressing and Scott engaged her in a conversation about charter schools, Tessa felt herself begin to relax. They liked Eleanor, she thought, channeling Sally Field. They really liked her. While the two teachers talked shop, Tessa led Will out onto the patio where Eleanor had sent Sasha and Allen to watch the sunset.

“She’s lovely,” Will said, following her through the French doors. “So wholesome. So entirely un-L.A.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tessa said, guiding him toward Eleanor’s friends.

While the sky turned pink overhead, Tessa worked to draw out the lawyer and her date. She knew theirs was a brand-new affair, and that Eleanor wanted her friend to find someone more deserving this time around. As Allen chatted comfortably with flirty, flamboyant Will, Tessa mentally chalked a point in his column. Not all straight men were that secure.

Back inside, conversation seemed to flow easily about the dining room table. Tessa was seated at the end farthest from the kitchen with Allen and Will as her nearest neighbors. As the meal progressed, Tessa noted that not only was Allen more low-key than most of the attorneys she knew (in a good way), he also adored his many nieces and nephews, most of whom lived in Southern California. Eleanor would be happy about that. An only child, Sasha had apparently always wanted a big family. She was also hoping to have kids of her own, according to Eleanor, and soon. A boyfriend who liked kids seemed like a positive step.

At the other end of the table Eleanor was flanked by Sasha and Scott, who talked animatedly with little help from her. Every once in a while she jumped up to grab something from the kitchen, and Tessa would temporarily tune out to watch her puttering about. She was so cute, so concerned that the meal function just right. She needn’t have worried. The food appeared to be a hit—the salmon tender and flaky, the apple pepper jelly she had glazed the fish with simultaneously sweet and tangy. Garlic mashed potatoes and a mixed green salad with homemade mustard dressing complemented the fish perfectly, everyone agreed, applauding the chef’s culinary skills.

“Elle hasn’t always had such refined taste,” Sasha said toward the end of dinner, smirking at her former roommate. Eleanor gave her what Tessa clearly recognized as a warning look, but she continued blithely, “In fact, senior year she was known as the Ramen Queen of the on-campus apartment complex.”

“Really?” Tessa asked. “What else has she been hiding?”

“Let’s see,” Sasha said, narrowing her eyes. Eleanor threw her napkin, but her friend just ducked. “Has she mentioned the Radical Debutante Ball junior year, when her girlfriend convinced her they should go dressed only in—”

“Ahem,” Eleanor interrupted, standing up. “Would anyone like coffee or dessert? Or maybe you’d like to hear about Sasha’s fondness for her favorite newspaper, the Washington Post?” she added significantly, staring down her roommate.

At this, Sasha pursed her lips. “Can I at least tell them what Rad Deb is?”

“Knock yourself out,” Eleanor said, and started clearing plates.

Tessa rose to help, listening with one ear to Sasha’s description of the semi-formal dance the Smith student Lesbian Bisexual Association used to hold downtown each spring at the Hotel Northampton. Rad Deb in the ’90s, Sasha said, was an alcohol-infused soap opera that made the L Word seem tame. LBA dances in general usually had the best dance music outside of Black Student Alliance parties. Naturally.

Tessa surreptitiously checked Allen’s face for any sign of discomfort. Whether he knew it or not, he was the only thoroughly straight person at the table—assuming he was straight. Eleanor had told Tessa about Sasha’s college experimentation with one of their classmates, now a staff writer for the Washington Post, but Tessa wasn’t sure Allen was aware of his date’s past. Still, he appeared fine with the topic of Smith lesbians. That, or he was a good actor too.

“Maybe someone should write a script about Smith’s Sapphic shenanigans,” Will said, grinning wickedly.

Sasha snorted. “I can only imagine the uproar from the alumnae, the old straight white ladies in particular. They already bemoan the fact that lesbians and women of color are allowed to set foot on their sacred campus.”

“Seriously?” Scott asked. “But Smith has such a liberal reputation.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Eleanor said, carrying coffee and tea to the table. “When we were in school, there were rumors that one of the houses in the quad had it written into their constitution that only white students were allowed to live there.”

“Unbelievable,” Tessa said, shaking her head. One good thing about fame, she’d noticed, was that people rarely made the comments or asked the questions she’d encountered regularly growing up Asian American, even in a city as diverse as Chicago: “Your English is so good!” and “Where are you from? [Chicago.] No, where are you really from?”

Sasha smiled wryly at her. “Tell me about it.”

“Can’t we all just get along?” Allen quipped, eliciting groans from the group.

They lingered over coffee, herbal tea and raspberry cheesecake, discussing politics, education and the entertainment industry, which had employed most of the people at the table either directly or indirectly. Sasha, Allen, Will and Tessa knew many of the same people, and they gossiped for a bit about recent scandals around town. Fortunately Eleanor and Tessa’s relationship was no longer considered news. Just as there was always a video, a new sex scandal was almost always brewing in Hollywood. Eleanor and Scott, meanwhile, seemed happy comparing notes on public and private school politics.

Only crumbs remained of the cheesecake by the time Sasha took advantage of a lull to announce that she and Allen should be going—they had to be at work early the next morning.

“On a Sunday?” Eleanor asked. “Both of you?”

“I know, God will be pissed,” Sasha said, “but the courts wait for no one.”

Scott and Will said they should be going too, not because of work but because they were an old married couple no longer accustomed to staying out past midnight. Protests of youth and goodnights were made all around, and Eleanor and Tessa walked the two couples out, waving from the front stoop as Will’s Jeep and Sasha’s BMW started their descent down the long driveway.

“Well,” Tessa said, turning to Eleanor as their friends’ taillights faded into the night, “that was fun.”

“Wasn’t it?” She was bouncing in place, either from happiness or the two cups of coffee she’d imbibed after dinner, Tessa couldn’t be sure.

“You are so cute,” she said, smiling.

“I’m pretty sure America would say you’re the cute one in this relationship,” Eleanor said, then froze, staring at her.

“Is that what we’re calling this?” Tessa asked, stepping forward to slide her arms around Eleanor’s neck. “The R-word?”

“Well, yeah,” Eleanor said, using the simultaneously tough-vulnerable voice that Tessa loved. She set her hands at Tessa’s waist and looked down at her. “I think so. What about you?”

“I’m in,” Tessa said, and kissed her, trying not to think about countdowns.

Lips tasting of wine and hazelnut, Eleanor backed Tessa inside the house and kicked the front door closed, never breaking the kiss. Then she maneuvered Tessa across the entryway and into the dining room.

As Tessa’s legs bumped against the dining table, she broke away, laughing. “What are you up to?”

Eleanor gazed down at her, eyes already darkening. Tessa was still surprised sometimes by how quickly she could shift gears—from nanny to seductress, dinner party hostess to sexpot.

“We’re completely alone, finally,” she said softly, “and ever since I saw this table I’ve had this fantasy...”

“Ever since you saw it?” Tessa asked, nudging her thigh between Eleanor’s legs. “Are you talking about the day I offered you the job?”

“Of course,” Eleanor said, her hands steady at Tessa’s waist. “You knew I wanted you the moment you walked into my classroom.”

“I hoped,” Tessa admitted. She could feel the warmth radiating outward from Eleanor, and a matching heat sparked inside of her, making her long for Eleanor to put her fantasy into action. “So what are you waiting for, then?”

Eleanor shoved the nearest dessert dishes out of the way and lifted Tessa onto the edge of the table, settling her hips between Tessa’s legs. She slid both hands up the inside of Tessa’s thighs, pushing the hem of her dress higher until she reached the silk of her underpants. Eyes intent on Tessa’s, Eleanor cupped her hand over the thin material, then slid her fingers into the wetness beneath.

Tessa bit her lip, aware of the moan threatening to spill over. She’d fantasized about this too—maybe not about this table, exactly, but about the steamy look in Eleanor’s eyes, the impatience in her movements as she pulled Tessa’s panties down across her thighs, the eagerness in the hand she slid inside Tessa’s dress to caress her nipples, the mouth that pressed against hers almost painfully. But Eleanor, Tessa knew, would never hurt her.

Knowing this allowed her to let go of the inhibitions she had always, until now, held carefully in place. Allowed her to spread her legs wider, to guide Eleanor’s face first to her breasts, still covered by her dress, and then down further, until Eleanor knelt on the floor before her, still fully clothed, cupping Tessa’s hips and pulling her toward her waiting mouth. In the empty house, Tessa gasped aloud, moaned, cried out as Eleanor’s lips and tongue and fingers stroked her rhythmically, driving her rapidly to a climax that left her shaking and complete at the edge of the dining room table.

Still trembling, she pulled Eleanor back up. “I like your fantasies.”

“So do I,” Eleanor said, a self-satisfied smile on her face.

“My turn.” And she reached for the buttons on Eleanor’s shirt.

The dishes didn’t get done that night, a fact that bothered neither of them in the least.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 695