Impact 12½: of Alumnae

"Rebekah the spy?!?" she exclaims as I click hurriedly across the floor to the bathroom, feeling guilty for wearing my heels, but too frantic to be courteous to my sleeping neighbors

"Yes," I admit, laughing. "But I think she would be sad if she knew you called her that."

"How was that? Seeing her again?"

"Really good," I sigh as the waters break. "VERY strange..."

"Sounds like a draft horse," Claire mutters teasingly. "Strange how?"

It's funny how much information two syllables spoken halfway around the world can carry. The question is so freighted. Claire is trying to keep it light, to not sound threatened or scared, or too interested in what I'll say next.

"Good strange? Intense strange? Hold on..." I'm still peeing like a draft horse. I want to put her at her ease, but I can hardly think.

"You had a lot to drink," Claire murmurs.

"I did," I whine, as I finally stop peeing and take a deep breath.

"Rebekah and Ali are staying in Times Square," I finally tell Claire as I clean myself and get to my feet with an "oof!" I'm feeling a little shaky with the pleasure of my relief as I step out of my panties and kick them into the corner. "...So we all had drinks afterwards and talked about it-"

"It?"

"IT - everything," I smile as I pull my dress over my head, hanging on the bathroom door.

"The spying?!"

"-And the party and everything," I tell her, backing against the wall to look at myself in the mirror. I'm in heels and a bra that I know Claire loves, says it makes my breasts look long. My tummy is flat and tight. I cant my hips, stroke my mons with my nails; smooth and unblemished. My lips look plump; engorged. I think again of the butch girls, their camel toes; brazen.

"Everything?"

I can picture Claire. She is sitting up in bed, sleep forgotten, her breasts bared, phone held tight to her ear; incredulous. She is entirely awake now.

"EVERYTHING!" I laugh, my arm twisted behind me, unclasping my bra. It feels good to have it off. My nipples are swollen, pushing out. They are glad to be free.

"With Ali there? Did they know each other?"

"Yeah, with Ali there, but no, they had never met. Ali is a couple years younger than me? They didn't even overlap at Brown. But they're attending the same conference this weekend and somehow made the Brown connection, and as soon as they did, realized they'd lived in the same room of the same house."

"Small world."

She sounds a little distant, like she's trying to picture the scene.

"Right? I wish you had been with me tonight. I told them about you... about us."

"You did? Is that the first time you've done that?"

I had hurt her. She thinks I'm ashamed. I can hear it in her voice - as an absence. She sounds so happy to know I've told them, her excitement is so clear and fresh, it can only come from relief.

"No," I smile. "I told Kip."

"The sports guy?"

She sounds even happier about Kip. I hate that I might have scared her.

"Yes." I'm still looking at myself in the mirror; my tasseled hair, my smeared and faded makeup. I hunch my shoulders, enjoy the look of my breasts drooping.

"You were so upset about Kwasi and Wes, I didn't think..."

I push away from the wall and force myself to turn away from the mirror. I turn off the light and carry Claire with me to the bed, heels clicking. I'll wash my face in the morning.

"I was just overwhelmed," I promise Claire, wanting to make it all better. "I had wanted to tell Kip before that, and Kwasi too... Have you told anyone?"

"I told Paula last night."

"No!"

It was my turn to feel a rush of pleasure.

"Yes!"

"What did she say?"

"She knew, she said she knew as soon as I introduced you."

I picture meeting her boss. It had been brief, but she had made an impression. Paula was a patrician beauty well into her seventies. She had been attractive in an undisguised way. Dark undyed salt and pepper hair, almost no makeup or any of the other contrivances one associates with female aging. But she had been so intimidating, so cool and appraising. I had felt I was being judged, worried I was coming up short. I had no sense that I was actually being read like an open book, that both Claire and I were.

"Did we know then?" I ask, holding the phone between my cheek and my shoulder as I unstrap my heels.

"I did," Claire admits. Her voice is warm and smoothing out, but still deep. She was still in bed.

"Anyone else?" I was sitting on the edge of my bed, stretching my toes, examining them for damage. I

"Benoit. A couple girlfriends - friends from London..." she says as I lay back and pull my feet up, realizing we are finally both in bed.

"...my mother."

She says it like it's just one more thing on an inconsequential list, like it's nothing at all, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

"No!" I cry, laughing. It's my turn to be amazed and overjoyed.

"Yes!" she's laughing too, enjoying my shock as much as I am.

"When?!" I'm up on my elbows facing the windows. It's still dark, but the light is getting strange. Somewhere to the east the sky is a dark blue.

"She and my stepfather came for the fair, we all went out."

"What did you tell her?!"

"I told her how smart and beautiful you are. That you are making a vegetarian of me-"

"Oh no!" I exclaim. "Does she hate me?!"

"Not at all, she is very excited to meet my Young Sarah."

"Did you tell her how old I am?"

"I did. She said 'but this is nothing'." The accent she does when imitating her mother is like something from Monty Python. I suspect it's an exaggeration.

"That's what Father Mike said!"

"You gave confession again?" There's an edge of alarm in her voice that makes me want to hold her.

"No! I went by today before Little Frankie's. We ate eclairs in the rectory kitchen and talked. I met the other priest and all the ladies."

"That sounds lovely." The alarm is gone. Her mouth is close to the phone.

"We're both in bed."

"My Sarah is frisky," she husks. "Did you watch the video?"

"Not yet," I whisper. "I miss you, I want you home."

"I know, me too," she soothes. "If I weren't doing Paris on my own, I'd beg to go home early."

The huskiness is receding, she's thinking about work. I'm petting the insides of my thighs, wishing she could see me.

"Paula's not going?" I ask. My voice sounds breathy.

"No. It's a smaller fair, but she only came here because we did a special project with an artist named Christian Marclay - otherwise she would never come to a fair. But still, it's a big deal to let me do Paris by myself."

"She trusts you," I murmur, scissoring my legs and squeezing my breast.

"Yes. It feels good, but scary too," she says earnestly, oblivious to my change of mood. "I'll have a couple assistants, so it's not like I'll be running around with boxes, but I will be in charge."

"I can't believe you told your mom," pushing my fingers down my belly, enjoying the soft give.

"I tell her everything."

"Have you told her everything?!?"

"Ha! No, not nearly everything, just the kinds of things one tells one's mother."

"Was it scary?"

"A little."

"Was she upset?"

"No, not at all. Surprised, maybe a little confused? She asked a LOT of questions. I'm staying with her in Paris, so I expect to get grilled all week."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry, I love talking about you, about us."

"I love you."

It just came out. Slipping from my lips like water pouring off the lip of a bowl. There is a tiny pause. Did she gasp?

"You are so precious Sarah-" she whispers, her breath catching. And at first I'm afraid that's all she's going to say, but then in a breath, she says, "I love you too, so much."

"I wan-"

"Oh fuck!"

"What?!"

"Paula's at the door..."

"I love you!"

"I love you too!"

And just like that, in the space of a few seconds, "I love you" went from the most honest and profound thing I'd ever said to anyone, or anyone had ever said to me, to a hurried farewell.

The video was about three minutes long and was just of Claire's face. Breathing slowly she looked into the camera, her eyes seeming to push past the lens, to focus on this moment with me. I watched the color rise in her cheeks, her aspect shift and intensify, listened as her breathing changed, dropping for a time into slow deep rhythms almost like sleep, before picking up again, becoming huffs then gasps.

The whole time Claire was looking at me, her eyes only darting away or losing focus for brief instants. And finally, as I could feel her leading us both towards orgasm her head tipped back, pushing her mouth towards me.

"I'm so in love with you Sarah," she gasped. "I love you more than I can say..."

*For those of you rereading these stories this is for you: on 06/17/23 I uploaded my final edit version of this story for moderation. Perhaps because we are getting so close to the end, the few changes I made to this chapter are minor corrections. This version is about four hundred words longer than the original.