A Little Hug Story

"Okay," I breathed, feeling my educator's duty had been met. "Well, um, where was I?"

"How 'extraordinary' I am." She grinned like an imp.

"Right!" I grinned right back. "You're absolutely extraordinary. And I would bet I'm not the only one who could say that. I've seen a lot of students through here and you had--have--something very, very special."

"Really?" She seemed to relax. "Oh, thank God. But why...?"

"It's just the college experience. The numbers are different, so the... 'scale' I guess you'd call it, is different. But you, my dear, are not ordinary."

"Thanks, Ms. DeWitt--"

"Ms. Mitchell, you're not in my class anymore. Do you think you could call me Eileen?"

"Eileen? Really?" Her faced scrunched up just a bit.

"Yes. Whyyy?"

"Eileen sounds kinda old-fashioned." She blushed. "I'm sorry. You're not old, or anything. I just meant--"

"It's okay." I chuckled at her discomfort. "It was my grandmother's name."

"No, it's pretty. It just--"

"Sounds ordinary?" I interrupted.

"No," Rachael giggled. "It just doesn't fit. At least not the 'you' I think of."

Think of? Hmm... I liked the sound of that.

"Well, my middle name is Rose. Is that any better?"

"Rose," she murmured to herself. She chewed on her lower lip and suddenly I could not look away from her mouth. My body quivered with arousal. The insides of my thighs grew wet and hot, but there was nothing I could do about it. Not until I got home to my tub, or my bed, or... well--who am I kidding?--probably both.

When the realization dawned that she was staring at me I finally shifted my gaze and met her eyes. "Yeah, Rose is perfect." Her mouth opened for an instant before her face blossomed into another winning smile.

I struggled to find something neutral to discuss. "So, how're your grades?"

"Good." She leaned back in her chair. "I won't have the last class grade for a couple of days. But the ones I know already are decent. My lowest was a high B, so I'm happy. So're my folks. And no problem with my scholarship, so life is not shitty. Oops, sorry."

It was my turn to smile. "It's okay. I've heard worse. How's your dog?"

She laughed. "Good. But no more bread dough for her!"

We made a little more small talk. At one point her crossed leg began a slow swing. I know what that can do to a woman's anatomy. My eyes flicked to her chest--an unconscious response. Her nipples were visible; tiny, hard and tempting. I looked at Rachael's face; her cheeks wore a faint glow of color, but not the slightest hint of embarrassment clouded her deep irises.

My mind tried to process the scene in light of my emotions for this girl. No, Rachael was no longer a girl. She was a young, vibrant, and sensuous woman. But was she really doing what I thought she was doing? In front of me? And if so, would it be too ridiculous to hope it was because of me?

I told myself, This silly fantasy is all just a byproduct of your smoldering infatuation. It's just as student crush--keep the lid on it.

Time stretched and lost meaning. I still do not know how long we chatted. I just remember the sexual tension thickened in my mind until it threatened to trap me like an insect in amber. I thought the moment was ripe for ending my misery by kicking Rachael out of my room before something embarrassing happened. But I hated the idea and waited a little longer. Then a little longer again.

At last, she stood. "Thanks for talking with me, Ms.D--Rose. It really helped. Thank you."

She took a step towards me. I stood, keeping the desk between us. It was my final strategy to avoid embarrassment. I felt like the ancient Chinese armies hiding behind their Great Wall.

"Bye, Rachael. I hope you'll come, and..." I blushed. "You know, stop by and see me again. Soon."

Her lips curved at the gaff, not the word but my stumble, and she leaned across the desk. Her hands rested on my shoulders and her lips brushed my cheek.

"I will," she whispered. "Soon, 'kay? Promise."

"'Kay." My voice sounded like, well, like a love-sick schoolgirl's. It was mortifying!

The cheek where Rachael kissed me burned long after she left the school grounds. That night was filled with heated fantasies of us making love. I feel asleep in a trembling heap on wet sheets, but with an exhausted grin and a satisfied glow.

* * * * * * *

That was how things went with Rachael and me for the next several months. She would visit at the end of the day, about every four or five weeks, and I would wind up completely smitten all over again. The effects would last from a few days to a week at a time. My fantasies always left me satisfied and spent. Then my libido tapered off and life for me approached normal again.

One late spring day Rachael came to see me. My mood brightened, as it always did in her company, until I picked up on her emotional state.

"Rachael, are you okay?"

"I don't know, Rose. I, well, I'm a little mixed up about... stuff."

"Oh? Okay. You, um, you want to talk? About it?"

We sat facing one another; Rachael in "her" seat, and me behind my Great Wall desk.

"Um, maybe. But, uh, you have to, um, well..."

"What it is?"

"Oh, Rose, I-- That is," she stammered. In place of the usual smile her succulent lips remained pursed in a tight, tense line. She sighed and relaxed a little.

"Rose, you know I'm, uh, that I like... girls, right?"

I did not answer right away. Then, "I thought you might. But it doesn't matter. At least not to me." While I suspected, even hoped, I had never been entirely sure. My emotions quivered just beneath the surface.

Where was this going?

Then something tugged at my mind. "Rachael, um, sorry, but... Tiffany and Sara...?"

She nodded. "Yeah, Tiff thought I was making eyes at Sara and got mad. But we all turned out okay. After a while, anyway."

"I see. Sorry, you were saying?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, I met someone. At school. But, my folks, I don't think they'd be okay with it."

"I see." I struggled to continue as my chest imploded. "What they'd think about this--situation--matters to you, right?"

She nodded.

I asked, "A lot?"

She nodded again.

"Okay. How much do you, like, this, girl?"

"I like her a lot, but she's not exactly a girl. She's older than me."

"Okay."

"Yeah, like, um seven, eight years older."

"So, she's about my age?"

"I guess."

"It's not me, is it?" The words spilled out before I could check myself. I hoped it sounded like a joke, and even gave her a silly grin to try and reinforce that ruse.

Her mouth smiled, but I could not be sure about her eyes. "No, Rose, it's not you."

Did the answer bear a trace of disappointment, or was that my imagination, too? Damn it, I was making myself crazy! My hands felt restless, so I interlaced the fingers and set them in front of me.

"Lizzie, that's her name, Elizabeth. Anyway, Lizzie never finished college. So after she got laid off she decided to get her degree and find a career. We met in English Lit and have been out a few times. Not really, like, dates, or anything serious. Just hanging, you know?"

I nodded. When I glanced at my hands the knuckles were white. I sent them to opposite sides of my blotter--neutral corners, if you will.

"So, it sounds as though you two are getting along. What am I missing?"

God, did that sound as annoyed to her as it did to me?

"Well, it's just that I don't know if I, you know, like her enough to, like, to have her, meet, my folks."

"I see. You don't know if she's special enough to 'come out' to your parents over her, right?"

"Yeah," she murmured. Her eyes stared into her desktop.

"Okay," I began, taking a breath.

Do what's best for her, I thought. Set your emotions aside and do what is best for Rachael.

"Okay, so are you sure that your folks don't already know you're lesbian?"

"No, I never told them."

"No, Rachael, that's not what I asked. They're your folks. They've known you all your life. I'd guess they at least suspect, if they don't already know. Even if you haven't told them."

She considered that perspective without saying a word.

"And I have to tell you--again--that you are a special and wonderful person. Any parents who can raise someone like you have to be pretty special, too. Right?"

Her eyes were on me now. She acquiesced. "Yeah, they are."

"So, can I make a suggestion?" When she nodded, I said, "Give them some credit and tell them. Or ask them if they already know. Or talk with them one-on-one--"

"Divide and conquer?"

I laughed and she smiled with me. "Something like that," I told her.

"I think my Dad'd be okay with it. But my Mom, she always told me how much she wants grandkids."

"So?"

"So, if I tell 'em I'm gay, there goes that whole deal."

"Who says?"

"What?"

"Who says you can't have kids because you're gay?"

"Only, like, everyone."

"No, Rachael. There are some who'll tell you that, but personally I think that's a load of crap!" It was the harshest language I'd ever used around her--I just did not swear. The way her face lit up told me she approved. But whether she approved of the vocabulary, the sentiment or both, I could not tell.

"You could adopt or have artificial insemination and carry your own baby. You do not need to marry a man to have babies. In fact, you don't have to marry anyone at all."

"You mean, like be a single Mom?"

"Oh, God, no. Too much work for one person. But you could have a partner. Some states will let you marry another woman. A lot of states still won't recognize it, though that seems to be changing. But if you love someone enough to start a family with them, a piece of paper may not be the most important thing. At least not right away."

"Okay."

"Have you given any thought to just how you'd give your Mom grandchildren? As a heterosexual, I mean."

"What?"

"Well, you told me that if you come out as gay to your folks then you can't have children."

"Yeah, but--"

I held up one hand to stop her. "So," I continued, "if you want to have kids, and you think you have to be in a hetero relationship, then how would you do it?"

"What?"

"How? Have you ever been with a man?"

Rachael shook her head.

"Have you even dated a man?"

She shook her head again. Her eyes studied the desktop once more as her finger traced mindless shapes on its surface.

"Do you have the least interest in, um, 'male companionship'?"

"You mean, like... uh--"

"Like, 'sex', Rachael."

"Ms. DeWitt!"

"Don't 'Ms. DeWitt' me, young lady." I grinned.

She smiled, too, but shook her head. "No, when, um, I... well, no, I don't think of, guys, that way."

"Do you just think you could have a fake marriage and the babies would magically appear from, what, storks?"

She giggled, then said, "I just thought I could find a guy who would, like, marry me and, well, not want to, do... stuff... Maybe even a gay guy--" Her nose wrinkled. "God, that sounds a lot lamer out loud than it did, like, in my head."

"So. you two would have an 'appearance' marriage and be celibate? Or would you each have lovers on the side? And is that really better for your folks?"

She clamped her lips together and let out a gentle snort of frustration.

I gave her a sympathetic look and asked, "What do you want in a partner?"

"Well," she voiced her thoughts, "I'd like to be with someone smart. And funny. Someone who... who gets me and really cares about me."

"Those are all good things. What else?"

She smiled before continuing. "I'd like someone who's kind and gentle, patient, not afraid to show emotions and who can deal with me when I'm all emotional." She paused.

"Okay, go on."

"And I want someone who's good at, um--"

As I watched her, I saw the flush in her cheeks and the demure way her eyes looked at the floor. Was this embarrassed girl the same person whom I suspected of masturbating in front of me a few months ago? Could I have been so mistaken?

"Someone who can fulfill your, 'needs'?" I asked delicately.

She nodded.

"Rachael, I haven't known any guys that intimately. But it sounds to me as though you're describing a woman, not a man."

She tilted her head as her mind worked.

"Rachael, I can't recommend that you deny who you are to satisfy the image someone else has placed on you. Or, even worse, the image you think someone has placed on you. Like you seem to think your Mom is doing to you now."

"But... she's, my Mom."

"I know. But think about how you'd feel living the life, the lie, you just described--with a man. What if you find you cannot be happy? That it was a mistake? How long could you do it? Would you get a divorce? And what would that do to you and your family?"

"Yeah." Her lovely face brightened. It was like watching a glorious sunrise as the light returned to her eyes. A smile spread across the lips I longed to kiss.

"Yeah, what?" I prompted.

"Yeah," she repeated, "You're right. I don't think I could keep up a fake marriage to someone I didn't really love."

"Male or female?"

She shook her head. "I really want to be in love with the woman I marry."

"Now are you sure? I want you to really think about it. Couldn't you keep up the pretense for your Mom?"

"Not even. And my folks are healthy," she quipped. "They'll be around for, like, a reeeally long time." She smiled as I laughed at her wit.

"Thanks, Rose. I feel better."

"Just remember, you have options. Okay? It may be a little complicated, but you do have options. You just have to search your heart to find what's right for you, okay? No one else--just you. But there are worse things than coming out to your parents."

A skeptical shadow swept across her face and disappeared. "I'll remember. Hey, you want to see a picture of Lizzie?"

Hell, no! I thought.

"Yes, I would," I said.

Rachael pulled out her phone. Delicate fingers danced across the screen. My mind squirmed down the slippery slope towards jealousy--

"Here," she handed me the phone. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

Her eyes were blue, like mine. And her light brown locks fell full and straight to reach past her shoulders. Like mine. Her lips were thinner, her nose a bit sharper and her jaw a little more square. But I could have been looking at a picture of a cousin--even a sister, if I had one.

Now I know how the damned unicorns felt when they missed Noah's, freakin', ark!

"She is pretty. I bet you two look good together." I handed the phone back to her while my mind ranged over a myriad of ways to make Lizzie look just a little less pretty...

"Hmm," she sighed at the image in a way that made me more jealous. Rachael looked at me as though seeing something for the first time. She peered at her phone then eyed me again without lifting her head. She shoved the phone into her purse.

Rachael blurted out, "Well, I better, you know--"

"Yeah, me, too." I stood and so did she.

"Thanks, Rose. I just didn't... know, who to talk to about this, Thank you sooo much." She walked around the desk towards me. Oh, my God, she was breeching the Great Wall and there was no line of retreat. Before I knew it, she hugged me again.

Then I was hugging her right back like I did not want to ever let go. My hand ran over her shoulder blade and down to the small of her back. She clung tight to me for just an instant then began to pull away. I leaned back, too.

Rachael dug her fingers into the thick braid at the back of my head. Her face was so close I felt her warm breath on my lips. Her head turned and her mouth found mine.

My eyes went wide, but hers closed as she kissed me. I whimpered and my body shuddered as her tongue traced from right to left. My lips opened, inviting her.

Then, as though it never happened, we stood apart. If not for the burn of my skin, the aroused swelling of my lips, and my own ragged breathing, I would have trouble believing it really had happened.

"Oh God, Rose, I... I--"

Rachael turned and slammed through the door before I could gather my wits. By the time I reached the hall and called out her name she had already disappeared around a corner.

"Shit!"

* * * * * * *

"Rachael, please let's talk about this, okay? Call me back, or stop by, or I can even meet you someplace if that's better for you. Please, let's just talk, okay? Okay, 'bye."

That was the third voicemail I left. My texts were being ignored, too.

It had been three days. I felt horrible and worried that our relationship might be ruined. I hated to think that Rachael, in a vulnerable and delicate position already, may have been more confused than ever by our kiss.

Even my baser side went neglected. I was so agonized that our sweet moment failed to fire my fantasy play. So, on top of everything else I felt cheated. Then I felt guilty for feeling cheated.

Argh!

If we could just talk about it...

* * * * * * *

Two weeks passed as slowly as any I could remember. My existence seemed reduced to a sort of autonomic functioning. It was like watching a film of me going about my daily routine, looped over and over. It was a really boring, really dreary film, too.

The grown-up part of my brain knew better than to define myself by a relationship--especially an embryonic and, probably, mostly-imagined one. And deep down I knew that I was a good and loving person, worthy of being loved right back. I knew that it did not matter what others thought of me because I was comfortable with who I had become, who I had molded myself into over the years.

I also knew that I had never felt such a profound attraction toward anyone as I did towards Rachael. I knew that I was a little... hollow... without her. I knew that an inner peace hummed within my chest whenever we spent time together.

What I did not know was whether we could share any sort of future.

For many years one source of pride was my ability to handle my life on my own. But every so often the situation overwhelmed me and left me feeling lost. My Dad was not a talker so, after Mom passed, Debby won out be default.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Debby."

Debby was my college roommate. We kept in touch over the years, and she was the first person I knew who could transcend separations. Each time we spoke, or saw each other, it was as though we had never been apart--even if months had lapsed since our last contact.

"Eileen! How are ya, girl?"

"Okay. How're you?"

One of the things I love about Debby is how cool she had always been with my identity. I found her very attractive, except she happens to be terminally straight, so nothing ever came of my first college crush. Instead, she ended up as a life-long friend and my occasional therapist. She was the least judgmental person I knew.

"Hmm, I'm guessing that I'm better than you from that tone," she announced. "What's going on?"

"Oh, just feeling a bit down and wanted to hear your voice."

"Uh, huh. Okay, should I regale you with tales of outrageously expensive car repairs, or cat vomit in our bed, or maybe how great Kirk is, in our bed, when the sheets are clean and he--"

"Debby, stop before I vomit! God, you heteros are sooo gross."

She started her hysterical giggling. I laughed with her and knew I had called the right person.

"Oh, all right, Eiley. Shit, you're such a girl sometimes."

"So're you!"

"Am not--you take that back."

"God, Debby, you sound like some of my students."

"Ha!"

"Yeah, well, that's kinda why, I, uh..." My voice trailed off to nothing. I knew her mental gears must've been spinning in overdrive.

"Oh, crap," she groaned. "Please tell me you did not fall for one of your students!"

"No! God, Debby--"

"Thank God for that!"

"Well, yeah, I mean..."

"Eileen!"

"Well, she's not my student now!"

The pause stretched out for long seconds.

"Really? Seriously? This isn't just the 'student crush' thing?"

Okay, so I did mention the student crush to Debby. But she's, well, Debby,