by Dusty Miller
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When the phone vibrated and she saw who it was, Heather’s heart lifted. She got up and firmly closed the classroom door. The side windows were open a couple of inches, but there was no one close by. It was very warm, and the costume had never felt more restrictive.
“Hi!”
“Hello. How are you?” Braden listened intently, hoping for a hint from her tone.
She was marking papers. It was lunch hour on a quiet Thursday in October and the buzzing of the phone not unexpected. It was better than talking late at night with her locked in the bathroom, speaking in an undertone, with him barely able to hear most of the time…
The sharp spike of adrenal juices at the sound of his voice was unmistakable.
“Braden…”
“Yes?”
With a gasp of breath, she opened up.
“There’s a house of my Order up where you live.”
“Huh?” There was a long silence.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea…” Braden wanted to see her again, but clearly the relationship was going nowhere with the two of them hundreds of miles apart…and her still in the habit. “I like the way your mind works.”
His joke fell terribly flat…there was a long silence.
It wasn’t so hard to figure out.
“Why don’t you see if you can transfer?” He would help her in any way he could. “It doesn’t have to be the sex-slave thing all the time, sugar. There’s a lot more to relationships between a man and a woman…you know, Heather, that I really care for you…love you, really…”
“Pardon me?”
“You heard me.” There was nothing to say until she spoke again.
She had that fear, and getting her the hell away from that place would do her a world of good. He knew it. Deep down inside, she must know it too. The problem was that she might not have the courage to even try. Heather had molded into that life, and while fantasy was good, reality took commitment and sacrifice if they were going to do it at all. He was asking her to give up all that was familiar, including her class of students, whom she seemed to love very much. They were a strong emotional bond for her. He knew all that.
“Okay.”
That was all she said, and yet his heart exulted. She had the fear, no question. It was fear of herself, and fear of an unknown world. It was just fear. She might never get over that fear. Braden understood, although that last part was hard to fathom. There was just no way he could let her go now. Not without telling her, anyway.
“I love you, Heather.”
“I love you too, Braden.”
He wondered if she was crying. He was, a little bit, and it felt good. Braden dabbed at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. They would work things out.
With hearts as one and minds linked in some ineffable way, together and yet apart, transcending the generally-accepted bounds of time and space, the two talked until the school bell rang and all of the kids began streaming back in for their afternoon classes.
End
About the Author
Constance ‘Dusty’ Miller has written fiction, and non-fiction for newspapers and magazines, including a brief stint as sports editor of a small-town weekly. She likes to make people laugh as well as think. Her erotica has strong qualities of romance. Out of work and recovering from a life-threatening illness, someone suggested writing erotica. Love makes the world go around, and Dusty can no longer deny its pull. Dusty squeezes a little writing in between raising a daughter and building up her business.
