Just For Now

by Lara Zielinsky
© 2008

Removing her glasses and closing her eyes as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, Doctor Karie Sackos, chief curator at the Boston Museum of American History, groaned at the stiffness in her back and the headache forming from the middle of her forehead. The blood in her ears thumped a hard rhythm and she consciously inhaled and exhaled several times easing the pressure her body had been exerting to stay awake. A glance to the digital clock precariously perched on a teetering stack of IN box papers on the upper right corner of her desk showed she had been working on these budget calculations for nearly ten hours. It was well after ten pm.

With the cuts proposed at the latest meeting of the budget committee, she was going to be hard- pressed to spread the funds evenhandedly among all the research and exhibit projects.

After hours wracking her brain, she came to the distasteful conclusion she would have to cut programs; not just trim here and there. Karie shook her head, envisioning the personalities behind each of the projects.

Gary Bergquist, nearly retired, the museum's document preservationist. His expertise had resulted in preserving documents which had been about to decay irreparably. His work was crucial to the museum's longevity. But what his expertise cost them in his supplies! Were there more economical preservation methods?

Iliana Derouche, an expert on the French Revolution, was currently developing the "Revolutionary Influences" exhibition, an examination of the American and French intellectuals whose correspondence brought off those two nations' shedding of monarchist domination. Without her would the museum's collections fail in their completion? Would the interconnectedness of history be lost?

What of Jacob Bellerophon currently an American Expansion period scholar coordinating the hundreds of document requests from other institutions around the world? Should he have to go, leaving the rest of them – probably herself alone – to sift through the requests, rank each, and prepare the corresponding response packets? It wasn't as simple as asking a secretary, with no discerning skills, to sort the important from the less so.

She turned her mind to the museum's operations. Operating hours had already been cut back along with the full-time docent staff. Many of the research staff conducted museum tours themselves now, cutting into their own research time.

What of the visiting academics each season? The museum was a coveted research location, at the heart and start of American history. Vital research was advanced by these new thinkers, keeping the permanent museum staff from becoming stale. Karie appreciated meeting the new researchers every three months. What if they offered one less and expanded stays from three to four months?

Looking through the list of names who had requested to visit in the upcoming year, she reflected on the museum's current visitor. Mackenzie Levenhagen, a Ph.D, had come on sabbatical from her position at Agnes Scott College in Georgia for the three month summer period. Would she consider a four-month locum? Would any teaching academic? Four months was an entire college semester, leaving no time to prepare.

But would Levenhagen consider it? Karie realized she would miss the academic for much more than her academic mien. She would miss seeing the woman bent over her microphones, honey blond hair plastered against her cheeks from the building’s poor air conditioning, or long fingers wrapped around a charcoal sketching pencil scratching out her notes. Levenhagen spent her days, and many late nights as well, documenting recently found Algonquin relics which the museum was developing into a traveling exhibit. New pieces arrived from the excavation site on a near-daily basis.

During her last sabbatical, Levenhagen had developed the museum's most popular exhibit, an interactive tour of an Algonquin village. Karie was guilty of stealing in to play the various station recordings in the off-season, just to hear the honeyed voice. When asked, all she would admit to was "testing the equipment."

She would definitely miss arguing with Dr. Levenhagen. It never was about the money, but about the academic presentation. Karie recalled one particular disagreement over voice-over content. One she had lost – much to her delight, as she found the particular stop on the Algonquin tour, a beaver pelt tanning station, now among her favorites.

Mackenzie Levenhagen had a brain as sharp as a rapier and a passion she brought to her work which reminded Karie a lot of herself. In the subjects where they disagreed it was invigorating to work through the points; challenging herself as well as Dr. Levenhagen to the very depths of their extensive knowledge. Very few people could do that for Karie, since she had been at the top of her field for nearly ten years. Such a challenge from someone a decade her junior thrilled her to distraction.

Karie's stomach rumbled audibly in the silence.

"Time to get something to eat." Her voice, soft as it was, echoed slightly off the paper-thin walls of the three hundred year old building tucked just off the main thoroughfare of Commonwealth Avenue in the heart of the city. Karie was tempted to again try coaxing the woman into joining her on a late night jaunt through the city. She could use the blood-pumping exercise and the brain-sharpening discussion. Then there was always the hope that the night's moonlight, the sea breeze and natures’ sounds down at the harbor might finally draw the academician from her self-imposed isolation.

Every time Karie passed the half-open door and heard the clearly enunciated diction as Mac audio-recorded her notes or the voice-over transcripts, Karie felt her heart grow a little fuller. Levenhagen sounded more excited and passionate with every discovery. As she stood, hearing a few bones creaking, she wondered if the esteemed Doctor Mackenzie Levenhagen, "Mac" as she stated she preferred, was also still in the building.

She finally admitted to herself that she had fallen, if not in love then in lust, with Mackenzie Levenhagen. There had to be a way to keep the woman coming back to the museum, or staying longer. What about a permanent position? She looked again at the uncooperative numbers.

Even if Karie found the money, would Levenhagen take an offer? She clearly did not see herself as one of the staff, even if only temporarily. Each time Karie had attempted small talk, Levenhagen cut her off, politely but still a clear desire to be about her work, not wasting a minute. Karie had tried, several times, going to her door and offering various gestures of friendship: a cup of coffee, a bagel, sharing time on lunch break. On many nights when Doctor Levenhagen would not acknowledge her, Karie had to go home, alone, to suffer sleep filled with passionate dreams.

And now... While at first Doctor Levenhagen at least came to the door, now she simply did not. Attempts to talk about anything but the latest piece of stone cut pottery with the workaholic at other times of the long days were only minimally successful. A few times Karie had come in from her lunch with a bag of bagels and coffee from the corner shop. In offering a bagel, Karie had caught a shy, thankful expression on Mac's face that made her heart skip a beat.

In that liquid Southern drawl, Mac always said, "Thank you."

Karie managed, "You're welcome," and the two women went to their separate spaces to work away the remainder of the daylight hours.

She remembered the last time she had passed the woman's temporary office, returning from a brief but necessary bathroom break.

Dr. Levenhagen had brushed back the hair from the side of her face and looked up at her entrance. "Yes?"

"It's a nice afternoon. Would you like to stretch your legs, see a little of the sights on Commonwealth?"

"No. I have work to complete." Seeming belatedly she finished with "Thank you." While the words were terse, the body language had been even more dismissive. Karie had said nothing, retreating quickly to her budget work.

Karie understood working hard. She herself had spent her twenties and thirties nose deep in books, or hips and elbows deep in archaeological sites, her personal life a mere footnote if considered at all. She had definitely settled down in her forties though.

Some of it was a result of her new management position in the museum, but she had also become aware in a fatalistic way that she had no one to come home to the nights she bothered to go home. She had taken an exhausting run down to the harbor one night a year ago shortly after the summer had ended. Gasping for breath as she felt tears gather, she absorbed the quiet movement on the water and heard the seagulls calling to one another.

She had taken her first vacation in eight years the next day, traveling out to the Cape Cod area, making a ritual out of walking out on the dunes each sunrise and sunset, and for all the peace it brought her, it also had brought home the one thing she was still missing.

Someone to share it with.

Exiting her office, turning the key in the lock and dropping it into the outer pocket of her carryall, Karie looked again at the visiting professor's closed office door.

Damn the budget numbers. She needed to offer Levenhagen a position. If Karie didn’t do something, Levenhagen would walk out of here forever.

What the hell, Karie thought, you only live once. "So, Doctor Mackenzie Levenhagen, tonight is going to be the night." At the very least, she would get to know an intelligent and fascinating colleague. More, if she played her cards right. Purposefully she strode down the corridor.

* * *

Mac brushed the strands of blond hair which had worked loose from the tortoise clip out of her face as she bent close to the magnifying glass once more. In her gloved hands she held a two inch piece of pottery shard at the focal distance just beyond it. She had been working for several hours with a bathing solution to clear the caked river mud from the surface. All because, though already tired from a full day, she was certain she had not mistaken an etching mark. She angled the cleaned piece this way and that, searching for it once again.

Nothing.

She sighed, frustration and fatigue combining to bring moisture to her eyes. Exhausted, she put down the pottery, leaned back and rubbed her left eye.

"Shit!" she exclaimed in agony as dust rubbed against the sensitive lens of her eye. Tearing her hands away, she ripped off the gloves, blinking rapidly and encouraging tears to flush the offensive matter.

"What's wrong?" There was the sudden rush of footfalls, the slam of a door hitting the wall, and the thud of something softer but no less solid also hitting the wall. Struggling still to clear her eyesight, Mac turned toward her small office's door.

Dr. Karie Sackos was in a heap on the floor, some of her carryall's contents strewn around her splayed feet. Dark brown hair in disarray as she reached up to brush it out of her face, the museum director looked unhurt, but Mac asked anyway, "Are you all right?"

"Just my dignity," Sackos answered. "I came running when I heard you scream. I slipped trying to turn into your doorway."

"The custodial staff must have already mopped." Mac stood, still blinking, but grateful the pure agony had dissipated. She extended her hand. "Allow me?"

Sackos dropped her gaze briefly, disentangled her arms from her bag's strap. "Thank you." She reached to meet Mac's hand. Reaching past the outstretched hand, Mac instead grasped the woman's forearm, feeling the muscles and bones shifting as they both tensed. Mac rose to her full height pulling Sackos up with her. The smaller woman came to her feet.

Quickly Mac released her hand, surprised by the lingering tingling. She rubbed her hands together while watching the half-bent over woman dust her skirt, stockings and finally her blouse. Petite hands drifted over lush curves on the compact woman. Mac was surprised, when she lifted her gaze, to meet gray eyes quickly shading blue over flushed cheeks. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I... I was coming to see you actually. I..." The woman suddenly straightened, snapping the lines of her blouse into place. "I wanted to ask you..." Breaking their locked gazes, Sackos looked quickly around. "How is your research coming along?" She stepped back and Mac had the sudden feeling of breathing room, released from the other woman's direct attention. Mac watched her take the couple of steps to the desk and watched fine boned fingers flip through the copious notes Mac had been refining all day.

Exhaling, Mac started toward the desk to look over Sackos' shoulder. Abruptly Sackos backed up, their bodies colliding all along Mac's front. Strong shoulders impacted Mac's chest. The other woman's hip slammed into Mac's abdomen, and a heeled shoe dug into the top of Mac's foot.

"Ow, hey!" Instinctively Mac grabbed the stumbling curator’s shoulders. She turned the smaller woman in her grip. Even as she felt herself doing it, she was surprised when they were suddenly front to front, and she watched Merlot-colored lips part, and heard raspy catches of breath from both of them.

Hands rose up interceding between them. Mac watched as color swirled between blue and gray in the slightly rounded eyes. The first thought that occurred to her was that the doctor's first name was Karie. Disturbed by the discomfiture which accompanied the discordant thoughts Mac frequently had around this woman, she spoke more sharply than intended. "My research is fine. Now, did you need something else?"

"I..." In fascination, Mac watched a variety of emotions flash too quickly to be identified across the patrician features. She clamped her jaw tightly, disturbed by her sudden detailed examination of a colleague. Karie stepped back from her, more in control apparently. "I wanted to ask you... Would you join me for a late night coffee?"

Mac looked at the cardboard coffee cup thinking how cold the brew was inside.

Karie's gaze had apparently followed as she spoke, "Oh, you... already... have some." The disturbed sound of Karie's voice cut something deep in Mac and her reactions came without conscious thought.

She scooped the cup into the trash can next to her. "It was cold. Thank you for the invitation. I’d like to go."

"At least get out of here for a while." Karie's thoughtful tone brought Mac's gaze from the floor to her face.

Mac realized she had something she ought to say. "I haven't truly thanked you for allowing me to work here this summer." As she collected her suit jacket and handbag, she added, "Let me buy the coffee." Her breath caught at Karie's unguarded smile. It was full, showing a little of her teeth between her lips. A single wrinkle appeared between Karie's brows and Mac smiled back, at which point Karie bit her bottom lip. "Please?"

Karie's nod made Mac's stomach do a funny flip. "All right."

Backing up, Mac caught the scent of lavender in Karie's hair as she passed. She felt herself hum deep in her chest. Oh God, she smells wonderful, Mac thought. She looks wonderful, she added, catching sight of the slender ankles, muscular legs in stockings, and nearly fainted as the skirt swayed, revealing the backs of Karie's knees. Abruptly she lifted her gaze, staring straight ahead as she reached past Karie's head and grasped the door. Out in the hallway she turned quickly to lock it before they left the building. The action allowed her a few precious moments to remind herself that she was here to do a job; getting involved emotionally with her alluring colleague could lead only to heartache in the end.

* * *

Karie felt Dr. Levenhagen's presence hot and close at her back as they reached the exit doors to the building. An arm moved past her on the right and she jumped a little as the door she had been reaching for opened. Her hand slid down the door surface, bumping briefly against the jacket-clad forearm. She squeezed unconsciously. Quickly Levenhagen's hand was withdrawn. Karie pushed into the door at the same time she looked up over her right shoulder to the face seemingly only inches away.

"The... there's a shop just at the corner," she said. "This way."

"Yes, I stop there some mornings. Do you think it’ll still be open?"

"Of course." Taking a moment to adjust the shoulder strap of her carryall, Karie checked her footing on the sidewalk, heading east toward the river, and the Commons.

At the corner of the next block there was a small coffee shop, with bar style seating. The well-lit interior was empty except for the clerk washing the fixtures and equipment behind the counter. He looked up from under dark swarthy brows and in a voice thickly accented – Karie thought he might be Moroccan – asked, "Good evening. May I help you?"

"I'd like a large coffee, please. French pressed Arabica, one sugar, no cream," Karie answered. She spied the small case full of pastries and selected one. "And a blueberry muffin. Thank you."

She turned to Dr. Levenhagen who was already leaning on the counter, her tall frame seeming to loom as she looked around at the various descriptions, posted menus and advertisements. Tucking a blond strand behind her left ear, Levenhagen finally ordered, "Almond lemon tea, large, and a lemon scone. Please."

Standing at the register, where he was inputting Karie's order, he asked, "Separate checks?"

"Yes, that's -- " Karie said.

"No, I’ll pay for both," Levenhagen interrupted quickly.

"Okay." He rang up the order, informed her of the cost, and finished the transaction, taking her paper money and returning the change. "If you will have a seat, I will bring the order to you."

"Thank you," Karie said as they headed toward the seating area.

"You're welcome," Levenhagen replied, offering a smile which unaccountably overset Karie's equilibrium.

Exhaling as she walked to a stool, Karie set her bag on the floor at her feet before sitting.

Dr. Levenhagen took the seat immediately to her left, and Karie shifted away slightly as the woman's handbag brushed against her. Dipping her chin, she acknowledged again, "I invited you out, but you paid. Thank you." She found a napkin dispenser and filched one from the stack, turning it in her palms and rubbing it against her fingertips.

"It’s nothing. I’ve been a poor guest."

"No. Oh no," Karie was quick to disabuse the notion that she was bothered by Levenhagen's attention to her work. "I admire your work. It’s very important or I wouldn’t have authorized your visit." In her eagerness to be understood, she turned and grasped Levenhagen's right arm with her left hand. "I am glad to have space to offer."

"You’ve been very accommodating. My work is nearly complete."

"You... Do you plan to return to Agnes Scott when it’s done?" Karie fretted that her anxiety was too readily discerned. "You're a professor there, right?"

"Yes, in the Sociology and Anthropology department. I teach Indigenous American Cultures."

"How did you become interested in that field?"

"You mean why would I, with seemingly only European blood, be interested in native culture?"

"No, I..." Karie did not know what to say. A small part of her had been thinking exactly that.

"Are your research interests dictated by your ancestry, Dr. Sackos?"

"No, of course not. I... Please, Dr. Levenhagen, I meant no offense. I’ve been curious to speak with you." Karie backed up as the clerk brought their order, placing the various items on the counter between them. She picked up her coffee in an attempt to divert the moment while she considered what else to say, but the coffee had not cooled enough to drink. With a gasp, she put down the cardboard cup, splashing a little on her hand, urgently pulling her hand with the balled up napkin to her lip. "Damn!"

She accepted another napkin from Dr. Levenhagen who sighed. "I apologize. I reacted badly." She appeared to be collecting herself and Karie waited only briefly. "I should be used to the reaction..."

"But you are frequently challenged by others in your field," Karie finished the thought, suddenly aware in that exchange how young her visiting colleague really was. "How long ago did you receive your doctorate?"

"Only two years."

"Just two years? You have a list of publication credits as long as some who’ve written in their field for ten or fifteen years."

Karie applauded her memory as the information served to make Dr. Levenhagen's alabaster cheeks pink very attractively. "I’ve been busy."

She reached across her body with her right hand, resting it on Levenhagen's right forearm. The tingling from earlier was back. She held her grip. "I’ve been equally busy. I’m sorry that I haven’t brought you out into the city sooner."

"Boston is very different from Decatur."

"I’ve never been to Georgia," Karie said, lifting her hand and going for her coffee cup instead. She inhaled the aroma and blew across the surface of the liquid before taking a cautious sip. "Tell me about it?"

"Nothing much to tell, Dr. Sackos. It's a small city with a number of colonial and antebellum era sites."

"Please call me Karie."

Dipping her chin, Levenhagen requested, "If you call me Mac."

Karie smiled as Levenhagen lifted her gaze again. "All right, Mac. So tell me, how did you first decide to study native culture?"

Levenhagen hesitated. "It's silly really."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Mac's voice was flat as she answered, "The Mayflower play in second grade."

Karie could not stifle her chuckle. "Really?"

"Yes. I was assigned a role as a Pilgrim, and when I said I really wanted to be an Indian, my teacher said that my skin wasn't dark enough."

"So that began your research career in native cultures?"

"I knew that there were Hispanic boys in my class and black boys, all of varying shades in their darker skin. There had to be the odd light-skinned Indian."

"But none so blond," Karie remarked. "Unless she was a captured colonist."

"I was only eight years old. My reasoning hadn't extended quite that far yet."

Karie studied the woman's profile as she turned away, sipping her tea. "You must have been adorable, Mackenzie." She could easily envision the woman in her youth, blond hair in braids or free flowing down her back, skin slightly golden from the Southern sunshine.

"Mac, please."

"Why? It sounds so male. Reading your application I almost thought you were a man."

Levenhagen shook her head. "I like it."

Watching Mac concentrate for a moment as she bit into her scone, Karie decided she liked it too.

* * *

Mac was having a great deal of difficulty concentrating on tasting her scone as she resisted the near-constant urge to stare into Karie Sackos' swirling eyes. The woman's eyes were mesmerizing; Mac had lost count now how many times her breath had caught at the sight. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Karie smile and turned her head further to the left and grabbed up her tea to take a drink.

Neglecting to swallow first, Mac found the tea started the scone down her throat and she spewed tea, coughing as the reflex continued. Karie's hand was suddenly thumping at her back and Mac closed her eyes to contain their watering. Finally she reached out with her right hand and motioned it was enough.

"Mac?"

The worry lacing the tone brought Mac's head up again and she was startled by Karie's hands rising to her face with a napkin folded between the fingers. "I -- " Mac broke off as she coughed again.

Karie dabbed the napkin at the edges of Mac's eye and then the left corner of her mouth. "Are you all right?"

"Thank you." Mac grasped the napkin from Karie's hand and dabbed at her own features. "I don't understand what’s wrong with me tonight."

Karie's gaze seemed to trace Mac's features and she spoke gently. "I... Maybe it's the same thing that’s wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you.”

"I just can't stop thinking about this." Mac was about to ask what 'this' meant when Karie's hands cupped her cheeks and chin, drawing her face down the short distance between them. The closeness of her features blurred and went out as Mac closed her eyes at the sweet touch of lips.

Oh God, this is heaven, Mac thought, unresisting and thoroughly entranced by the satin texture of Karie's lips and the warm breaths soothing over her own. She tilted her head and pressed in closer to deepen the kiss. She groped until the other woman's face was cupped in her own palms.

She was breathing hard when they broke apart, in dire need of air. She could see from the rapid rise and fall of Karie's chest that her response had been the same.

"Oh, God, I'm..."

Karie's fingertips covered Mac's lips with her right hand stilling the frantic words. "I couldn't stop myself. You are a very attractive woman, Mac Levenhagen, and a very intelligent one."

"I can't do this. I have to go."

Karie's hand halted her as Mac stood up from the stool. "Could we just have... some time together?"

"No, no. This is not why I'm here. I have to get my research done."

"Mac, you can't work twenty-four hours a day. I just... want to get to know you better."

"You can't be serious. You're my boss."

"No," Karie sounded like she was getting angry. "I don't feel like your boss. I don't act like your boss. I don't want to be your boss."

"You just want to be my lover."

Karie's eyes closed briefly. When she opened them, they were a devastating, bottomless blue. Mac gasped and lost her equilibrium as she heard the murmured words. "Yes, I want to be your lover."

"You don't even know if I'm gay." Why the hell am I denying the attraction? Mac thought wildly. In the next instant though she felt she had to, for the sake of sanity. Her body was already humming with the possibility that she might find herself in Karie's impassioned embrace.

Karie's voice was throaty and low as she responded, "Does it matter?"

Mac looked down as Karie's hand slipped over her own, stroking the skin and stoking a fire inside Mac that she wasn't sure she would have the willpower to put out.

"Just tonight," Karie's voice was a mere whisper. ”Just so we know, instead of wonder, what it would be like?"

Karie's hand slipped from Mac's, up her arm. Now the hand was a light pressure across the front of her suit jacket. Mac's knees shook as Karie's hand slipped inside the lapels to press wantonly with the other against her fabric-covered breasts. "Oh God, yes," Mac could only gasp as her breath became shallow and fast, the arousal surging up and choking her as surely as the bit of scone had tried earlier.

Karie's mouth ebbed and flowed against hers, the rhythm of a tide washing the shoreline. "My apartment."

In her haze, Mac barely heard the words, but acknowledged them with a growl. "Yes."

* * *

Karie's hands were shaking not from nerves but from interrupted passion as she fumbled with her key at the door of her brownstone building. "I'm on the first floor," she explained.

Mac's body was pressed against her from behind, the heat of her arousal already surprisingly evident. Thank God Mac is aroused, Karie thought wildly as the door finally opened at her shove, because damn it, I'm about to implode.

She fumbled again with the door to her apartment, but at last felt a measure of calm slip over her as she stepped into her living room. Turning around, Karie started to ask for Mac's jacket, only to have her bag stripped from her shoulder quickly followed by her own jacket. She lifted her hands to Mac's shoulders – so broad – and stripped away the suit jacket finding a fine linen shirt beneath. As she fumbled with Mac's buttons, their mouths found each other again. Gasps, cries, and nips; the passion that flavored their kisses only sparked further hunger.

Heated skin pressed together as their tops were discarded. Mac's warm hands skimmed and kneaded, and pressed against her back, sides and then were hot on her breasts. "Oh God, Mac, yes." Karie threw her head back and Mac's mouth fastened itself to the pulse thrumming in her throat. She was urging Mac further into the apartment.

Uncoordinated they fell across the divan, which creaked audibly. Groaning herself, Karie found herself only vaguely concerned that the eighteenth century French piece would withstand their combined weight. With Mac beneath her, she pulled Mac's face to her own, pushing her fingers through golden hair.

"You have such beautiful breasts, Mac," she whispered hotly against Mac's ear as she pulled away from her mouth.

The woman's thighs were parted and Karie pushed up the skirt, eager to feel Mac's warm center against her abdomen. Indulging them both, she stroked Mac's center through the silk of her underwear and then stripped away the stockings and underwear, pressing her stomach against the surging pelvis. The wetness was hot and copious. Karie leaned over and fastened her mouth to the turgid left nipple. Mac's gasps and groans filled her ears. Her long fingers raked through Karie's hair, holding her tight to the center of pleasure.

"Karie," Mac begged.

Karie stroked every inch of skin she could reach. The satin feel of it was intoxicating; the scent of it overwhelming. She nipped and licked and sucked patches of Mac's torso while Mac's center surged against her own waist and hips. The friction of partial skin and partial cloth from Karie's own skirt waist seemed to send Mac higher and higher. Leaning up on her hands Mac searched out Karie's gaze as her fingers swept over knees to inner thighs.

With a smile and nostrils flaring, Karie dipped her head and kissed the short darkly golden hairs covering Mac's mound. She nuzzled her way lower, fastening her lips over the distended and swollen flesh, cooling and heating it at the same time. Mac's hips surged and she cried out, "More."

"Oh, God, yes, oh, uh, oh," Mac grunted, and it had to be the sweetest sound Karie had ever heard.

Karie slipped a finger through the throbbing opening to feel the contractions accompanying the rise of Mac's orgasm, and her tongue searched through the fluid's rush to the source. Mac's knees tried to close tightly around Karie's ears, but lifting her shoulders, Karie kept Mac's thighs open and pleasured her with lips, tongue and fingers until the woman was spent, groaning, arms flung over her face.

Rising up over Mac's form while deliberately brushing their bodies together here and there, Karie reveled in the small jerks and gasps which her touch along Mac's magnificent figure elicited as the woman came down from the erotic heights. She kissed the side of Mac's face, from the corner of her mouth to the crest of her ear. "I knew your flavor would be sweet. Oh yes, so sweet," she whispered.

* * *

Mac wrapped her arms around Karie's back as the smaller woman settled in against her on the narrow divan. She rose up a little, looking for more commodious accommodations and spied the bed through a far door, presuming it led to the bedroom. As she and Karie kissed tenderly, Mac considered the logistics of a collective move.

Once her plan was set in her mind, Mac rolled out from underneath Karie, still kissing her, stripping her of her skirt, stockings and underwear, reveling in the damp, swollen flesh as she pressed her belly forward. With firm intent, she lifted Karie, arms under her rear, picking up the smaller woman with only a little awkward balancing, and carried her into the bedroom.

Laying Karie on her back on the cotton berry red bedspread, Mac stroked up from foot to calf to thigh, tracing with her hands the path her eyes had taken earlier.

She had ignored Karie's knocks to her office door at the museum so many mornings, only to wait and carefully open the door to see her walking away down the corridor. The muscular legs had always drawn her gaze like a magnet.

Karie had said she had dreamed they would make love. What Mac had not admitted was the fact that she had too. Her situation had made her believe Karie would be impossible to attain, so she had never let it get beyond the fantasy.

Now though, she indulged her fantasy, rolling Karie onto her stomach, riding her back with her body, rubbing her mound to their mutual pleasure against the crease in Karie's ass. Karie lifted onto her hands, crying out with her pleasure and Mac surged forward, claiming Karie's lips over Karie's left shoulder. Urging Karie onto her knees, she wrapped her arms around the lithe lean back and teased the hardened nipples, pulling and twisting them as Karie arched and surged against her.

Dropping one hand to Karie's center, while she continued to manipulate Karie's breasts, Mac pulled and stroked through the soft curls, her head cradled against Karie's shoulder by Karie's arm. Pushing one of her long fingers within the woman's pulsing channel, Mac manipulated her thumb against the swollen ridge of flesh. Karie's moans crescendoed, conveying her appreciation.

Mac gradually withdrew, wet her fingers in the flow of moisture and slowly inserted two fingers to satiate Karie's clasping desire. As Karie's hips bucked and jerked, gradually gaining a rhythm, within her, Mac stroked the smooth walls, kissing all the while down Karie's back, across her shoulders, nibbling on her ear. Finally she pressed her forward, leaning over her, only to move down with her mouth. Fingers working from the front, tongue from behind, she experienced Karie's crescendo with her, muscles inward and outward rippling with the waves of pleasure.

Karie's gasps and moans filled the air as thickly as the scent of their sex.

Gently Mac stroked and withdrew, holding Karie fast with her damp right hand against her abdomen. She lowered herself to the bedspread beside Karie and brought her left arm up and over, holding Karie against her. Mac brought her knees up beneath Karie's, spooning her, their body heat melding together.

She started to resist when Karie pulled away, but an eye over her shoulder revealed that Karie was only reaching for a blanket folded near the end of the bed, which she pulled over them both.

Nuzzling the sweet smelling perspiration pooling in the hollow of Karie's throat, Mac murmured, "I think your taste is sweeter."

Karie's hand slipped over Mac's hip, stroking lightly. "Please stay?"

Mac's only response was to pull herself closer, as though she could blend their bodies together. It was a very unsettling feeling to even think about leaving.

And she wasn't sure whether she simply meant right now.

Or ever.

* * *

Mac awakened to Karie's kisses as morning sunlight filtered in from a window, dappling across their bodies. Karie had eased her onto her back, and Mac luxuriated in the physical while adoring the view. Karie's surprisingly firm ass waved a little in the air as she bent her head, nipping at Mac's ribs. Mac stroked her right arm down Karie's back, giving the mounds a little squeeze before slipping her hand between the globes and into the humid opening. Karie's mouth fastened on Mac's left nipple while Mac fingered her.

After just a few moments, Karie let out a gasp as she released Mac's nipple, and groaned. Mac continued the stroking as Karie's inner muscles massaged her finger, then finally clamped down and resisted her tiny movements. The shock waves however were sufficient to bring Karie to orgasm at least three times.

With a smile, Mac withdrew her fingers as Karie collapsed. She licked them leisurely, then laid her arm across Karie's back, feeling the woman's racing heartbeat slowing only gradually as they cuddled.

"That was amazing."

"That's what you get for waking me up."

"Hell, I'll have to wake you up like that every morning."

Mac's insecurities resurfaced. Closing her eyes against the disappointment, she said, "Karie..."

"Shhh," Karie said. "We've got a month to figure out what happens next. Please, can we just enjoy now?" Mac found Karie searching out her gaze as she opened her eyes. "Please?"

Blue had a faint shadow of gray sadness the longer Mac said nothing. Swallowing she brushed her fingertips through the brown hairs, noticing now their variety, from ash to black, even reddish hues. Capturing a lock and tugging it, she encouraged Karie's face downward. "Yes." She moved her lips softly over Karie's, not trying to elicit passion, only convey comfort.

When she pulled back, she saw the gray in Karie's eyes was gone and they had returned to an even blue.

THE END

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