Seneca Falls

by Jesse J. Thoma

  “That’s really not your decision to make. And if any of that came up in the future, we would deal with it,” Dylan said. “But I’m not holding you back anymore, Seneca. If you want to walk out the door, I won’t stop you. But you should know I don’t want you to go.”

  Tears streamed down Dylan’s face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Her hands rested on either side of Seneca, who had moved to the edge of the bed. She was terrified that Seneca was about to shatter the fragile bond of trust and tenderness they had built over the past semester. Dylan knew she couldn’t force her to open up, couldn’t force her to stay, but she wanted to try.

  “Bob, you don’t know what you’re asking me,” Seneca whispered.

  “Yes, I do, sweet girl. I’m asking you to trust me and to be with me.” Dylan tentatively closed the distance between them and rested her head on Seneca’s shoulder.

  “You don’t understand—”

  “No, I don’t. I can’t unless you tell me. Help me understand, Seneca. Tell me what you need. Tell me what happened.” Dylan placed a kiss on Seneca’s shoulder and felt her trembling.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t. Not tonight,” Seneca said. “Not right after. After, that.” Seneca waved her hand in the direction of where she had been sleeping.

  “Well, it’s the middle of the night. Not the best time for talking anyway. My mother always told me nothing good ever happens after midnight.” Dylan wrapped her arms around Seneca’s waist, and when she leaned into her embrace, Dylan’s heart swelled.

  “Your mom is a smart lady,” Seneca said.

  “She has her moments,” Dylan said, thinking how humorous it was that premarital, lesbian bed sharing probably wasn’t what her mother’s advice had been intended for. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if I get you another shirt and we snuggle back up?”

  “I don’t think your shirts will fit me, Bob,” Seneca said, her eyes already heavy with exhaustion.

  “Is it terrible that I wouldn’t mind you in a tight T-shirt?”

  “Bob.”

  “All right, fine. I have at least one that I won as part of a raffle. It’s unisex huge and ugly as anything, but at least it will be long enough for you.”

  She dug it out and handed it to Seneca. She was well on her way to helping pull off the sweaty shirt, when Seneca stopped her.

  “Not tonight. I don’t want to give you nightmares. You’ve seen the scar on my arm.”

  Though the remark stung a bit, Dylan accepted it, glad that Seneca hadn’t simply run from the room. If this was the limit for tonight, but it still included them sharing a bed, she was okay.

  Seneca moved across the room, turned her back to Dylan, and quickly stripped off her wet T-shirt. She pulled the clean, dry shirt on as fast as she could, but even in the dark and the brief exposure, Dylan could see that Seneca’s skin wasn’t smooth, but rather an intricate network of white pockmarks. She desperately wanted to ask about it, but knew now wasn’t the time. Instead, she slid to her side of the twin bed, pulled back the covers, opened her arms, and invited Seneca in. Seneca slid into bed and fell asleep almost immediately. They both slept through the rest of the night peacefully, Dylan wrapped protectively around Seneca, warding off the demons that had left their terrible traces on her body.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Enough,” Seneca said, rolling onto her back, her head resting on Dylan’s lap. “No more action movies. Don’t you have a nice comedy, or romance, or sports highlight film we could watch? C-SPAN? Anything?”

  “Hey, you said I could pick all the movies. Next time think that one out a little better.” It was one of the rare weekend days that Seneca didn’t have to work and neither of them had an overwhelming amount of unfinished schoolwork. They had been lounging in Dylan’s room watching movies together most of the day.

  “I will,” Seneca said, nuzzling the top of her head into Dylan’s palm, clearly begging her to continue the head rub that had been interrupted by the end of Lethal Weapon 4.

  “Oh no, you can’t expect a head rub after insulting my movies. Not even pirate queens can get away with that. Don’t you know it is the pirate queen’s woman who really runs the ship?”

  Seneca opened one eye. “I think I might be learning that. Kate may have hinted at something along those lines too. And how does a pirate queen get back in the good graces of the pirate queen’s woman?”

  “They don’t insult action movies, that’s for sure. It’s definitely going to cost you,” Dylan said, eying the stack of unwatched movies, focusing on the one she had been waiting for all day.

  Dylan saw Seneca getting ready to leap at the stack of movies, but she was quicker. She grabbed the movie and held it triumphantly above her head, spinning and dancing her way to her computer.

  Having assured her damaged leg wouldn’t collapse beneath her, Seneca caught up to Dylan and wrapped her in her arms, lifting her six inches off the ground. It took only a second for their lips to meet and for Dylan to wrap her legs around Seneca’s waist. Terminator 2 clattered to the hardwood, completely forgotten.

  Dylan shoved her hands roughly into Seneca’s short brown hair, holding her head close as their tongues waged a delicate, passionate battle. She felt Seneca’s hands on her ass, holding her up as well as pulling her close. Seneca’s tight, flat stomach against her crotch, after months of buildup, was almost all she needed to shoot over the edge. She slid away enough to lessen the pressure enough to ensure the tease remained, but the threat of orgasm did not.

  Seneca bumped them into a wall. They lingered there, Dylan resting her back against the flat surface, feeling the plaster and paint as a cool counterpoint to the heat against the front of her body. With one hand, Seneca tugged Dylan’s shirt as far up her back as she could without help, her intention and desire for the shirt clear. It was off and on the floor in a matter of seconds.

  Seneca stopped a moment and took in Dylan’s breasts, covered only in a sexy, lacy bra. She seemed to like what she saw. She ducked her head and ran her tongue along the line of fabric on each side. Dylan arched toward Seneca’s touch.

  “Bed,” she managed between a stifled moan and a hiss of desire as Seneca’s mouth roamed over one painfully erect nipple.

  Seneca placed her on the bed with care, a look of reverence in her eyes that nearly made Dylan weep with joy. Never in her wildest dreams could she imagine such awe directed toward her. Seneca’s weight on top of her felt so utterly perfect. As their bodies fused, lips, breasts, and thighs, Dylan could think of no greater pleasure. She was so glad they’d waited for the right time.

  Dylan reached for Seneca’s shirt, trying unsuccessfully to tug it up and off. Seneca’s strong hands gripped her wrists and gently pinned her hands over her head. Dylan didn’t argue.

  She arched eagerly as Seneca reached behind her for the clasp, both of them eager to shed the final barrier to Dylan’s breasts. When they were revealed, Seneca sucked in a breath, and Dylan had never felt more beautiful.

  “Oh, Bob,” Seneca said, flicking her tongue over first one, and then the other flushed pink nipple.

  Dylan enjoyed the attention until her nerve endings were so raw she was afraid she wouldn’t get to experience everything else Seneca had in mind for her. In a moment of clarity, she had an overwhelming urge to see Seneca as well. She shivered in anticipation of finally laying eyes on the hard planes and rippling muscles she had felt so many times beneath the cover of Seneca’s T-shirts.

  “Wait, baby. You’ll make me…just slow down for a minute.” Dylan gasped as Seneca tugged forcefully on her nipple, making her stomach clench in the first signs of just how close she was. “I want to see you.”

  Dylan pulled on Seneca’s shirt, but again Seneca resisted. Dylan tried again.

  “Let’s worry about you right now,” Seneca said, trying to remove Dylan’s hands from her shirt hem.

  “I have nothing to worry about,” Dylan said in her best bedroom voice. “I want to see you. I want you to feel t
his too.”

  “I am feeling it, sweetheart. It’s wonderful.” Seneca looked anxious.

  “It can be better.” Dylan tried one more time for Seneca’s shirt, but Seneca pulled away.

  “That’s not how this works,” Seneca said, her voice high and hard.

  Dylan felt like someone had poured ice water over her. She wiggled free of Seneca’s weight and sat at the end of the bed, her knees pulled up to cover her exposed chest.

  “What do you mean that’s not how this works?”

  “I…” Seneca looked lost. “I want to make you feel good. I want to finish what we started.”

  “And what about you? You stay fully clothed while I’m naked and coming?” Dylan was losing the battle to keep her voice from rising.

  “Yes, but…” Seneca looked confused and scared.

  “So I’m just like them? The women at the bar you had sex with?”

  “Of course not. Dylan, you’re amazing. But I can’t…I mean, I won’t…”

  “Wonderful, so I’m no better in your eyes than they are. I don’t deserve any more trust than some woman you pick up in a bar.” Dylan’s eyes swam with unshed tears.

  “Bob, you’re everything to me. The other women didn’t mean anything, even then. You’re all I care about. And I haven’t been there in months.” Seneca looked like she was trying to dig herself out of a hole while blindfolded, but she had no idea which way was up.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I don’t go there anymore because now I have you to take their place?” Dylan demanded. “Do you love me?” She retrieved her shirt and stood fully clothed, hand on hip, looking down at Seneca on the bed. Her anger was cut slightly by how small and terrified Seneca looked. Every time Dylan started to speak, Seneca visibly flinched and looked as if she might cry. Tears swam in her eyes, something Dylan had never seen before.

  “Do I love you?” Seneca repeated.

  “Yes, do you love me?” Dylan knew it wasn’t a fair question. She knew, but she had to ask anyway.

  “I don’t know,” Seneca said.

  “Fine.”

  Dylan turned and walked out of her dorm room door, slamming the door hard behind her for good measure.

  “I don’t even know how to tell.” She heard Seneca’s words before she stormed away from the room. That nearly broke her heart and made her rush back into the room. She was embarrassed, both at being the only one vulnerable and possibly the only one feeling as strongly as she did, but also at the way she had reacted.

  Seneca had told her she always kept her clothes on, and maybe she shouldn’t have expected her to change just because they were getting hot and heavy. Dylan went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Seneca wasn’t worth losing over this. She knew Seneca had a long and complicated past, and this was clearly part of it. If she wasn’t willing to understand that, she shouldn’t have taken on any of it. When she put it to herself that way, she felt horrible for her outburst. But she also really needed Seneca to meet her partway too. They couldn’t have a future together where they either never slept together or Seneca hid in the closet to change her clothes.

  When Dylan slipped back into her room, Seneca was clearly packing up to leave. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked like she had just hopped a marathon on her one good leg. Her limp was more pronounced, something Dylan had come to recognize as a sign of either pain or emotional turmoil, and her face was anguished.

  “I’m going to leave you alone now. I’m sorry I ruined our day. Please call me when you’re ready.”

  “Please don’t go,” Dylan said softly. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. You warned me. I moved us too quickly.”

  At the smallest hint of hope on Seneca’s face, Dylan rushed headlong at Seneca and threw herself into her arms. Seneca hung on as Dylan sobbed loudly against her neck.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand relationships,” Seneca said. “Is that how this is supposed to work?”

  “Come to bed with me?” Dylan asked when she finally got her crying under control. She had Seneca’s hand gripped tightly in hers.

  “I thought—”

  “Just to snuggle…and talk. I think maybe we should talk.” Dylan pulled gently, getting Seneca moving, one jerky step at a time. “Then maybe we can have dinner.”

  “I’m sorry,” Seneca said. “I’ve ruined everything.”

  “Shh, we’ll get there. Right now, I need you to hold me,”

  When they were settled together, Dylan kissed Seneca’s arm and then asked, “Why wouldn’t you let me take your shirt off?”

  “I have…scars,” Seneca said, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t like to feel exposed.”

  “You seemed like you were feeling better and—” Dylan snuggled closer, feeling comfortable and whole when she was this close to Seneca, even when she was confused and still a little angry.

  “Not those kind of scars. I guess I have those too, but I mean scar scars. Real, physical scars. You felt one of them, on my shoulder. You’ve seen the one on my arm.”

  Her voice had crept below a whisper. Dylan got the sense she hadn’t ever talked about this with anyone.

  “And you what, don’t want people to see them? Don’t trust me? Worry I’ll think they’re ugly?” Dylan knew she needed to try to understand. Seneca wasn’t rejecting her; they were both learning as they went along.

  “Yes, I guess all of those things. Please just give me a little time. I do trust you, or at least, I really want to. I’ve never had anyone who cared about me, so this is all a little new.”

  “Well, you do now.”

  Dylan leaned over Seneca and kissed her. They were gasping for breath and needing a cold shower when she was done. Seneca let her hand stray up and down Dylan’s back. She stopped and lingered over her legs and ass.

  “I’d like to finish what I started. I’m sure you’re as worked up as I am. I’m practically dying over here, which is new for me. I was never really all that invested in my part with the women at the bar.”

  “Can we stop talking about them?” Dylan asked.

  “Oh, yeah, just so you know that I’m done with them for good.”

  “Are the same rules in effect if my shirt goes flying again?”

  “I’m sorry, Bob. I just need a little more time,” Seneca said. “I don’t know that I’ll react all that well if I just dive in. I think about it, and then…Well, it’s not pretty.”

  Dylan kissed her on the cheek gently and then cupped her palm where her lips had been. “I’m willing to wait. Besides, I can’t have sex with you while you’re wearing that raffle T-shirt.” Seneca wore the T-shirt Dylan had let her borrow at every opportunity, the awfulness of it a part of their understanding now.

  “You sure do give me a whole lot of motivation to get over this problem of mine.” Seneca pulled Dylan closer, and once again, Dylan was content to wait. Seneca was hurt in ways Dylan didn’t yet understand, but she was too amazing to let go.

  They ended up skipping dinner and falling asleep together.

  Long after Seneca drifted off to sleep, Dylan lay awake and thought about the evening. She knew without a doubt that she was falling in love, and she hoped Seneca would let herself follow. When the nightmares claimed Seneca, as she suspected they might after their emotional evening, Dylan soothed away her fears and quieted her back into peaceful slumber. She refused to think about the possibility that Seneca wouldn’t let her walls down enough for them to really be together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You okay, Senny?” Jenny Collins asked.

  Jenny played on the squash team and was a friend of Britt’s. Word had spread, first through the squash team, and then across other teams, that the wildly good-looking and slightly intimidating student trainer who prowled the sidelines with Kate, was actually really nice. Or at least, that’s how Britt had reported it back to Seneca.

  Seneca glared at her, trying to look tough and intimidating, but the sophomore wasn’t
taking the bait. The ridiculous nickname was a small price to pay for people talking to her instead of staring at her.

  “Fine, why?” Seneca asked innocently, pulling the ACE bandage tight around Jenny’s strained quad. She applied the tape, securing the compression wrap in place, and stood up, gingerly testing her leg before turning to toss the supplies back under one of the treatment tables.

  “Don’t know. You’ve got that look that says you’ve got romantic trouble,” Jenny said knowingly. “If you need help with that, I know a few women around here who wouldn’t mind helping you out.”

  Jenny said some outrageous things, but everyone knew she wasn’t flirting, despite how it sounded. Jenny was straight and quite happily partnered.

  “Leave the poor girl alone, Jenny. And pull your pants down already,” Kate said, placing her hand on Seneca’s shoulder. Jenny quickly lowered the leg of her shorts that she had pulled up to allow Seneca access to her quadriceps.

  Seneca could hear the squash team’s laughter and a few frantic admonishments about time as they finished getting ready. She followed Kate into the small office space of the training room, and she caught Britt’s eye through the glass separating the offices from the treatment area. Britt winked.

  After the team filed out for practice and the training room was mercifully quiet, Kate turned to Seneca. “I know Jenny was just messing with you, but are you okay? Everything good with you and Dylan?” Kate’s face showed nothing but concern, but Seneca had long ago stopped looking for something other than caring and kindness.

  She and Dylan spent every available minute together, and for the most part, it was wonderful. After their awkward fight, they hadn’t talked again about the incident, but neither had there been a repeat of the passion of that afternoon. She was coming to realize that the next step in that part of the relationship would be left to her, just like last time. All these steps were hers to take, and it was getting progressively harder. Dylan hadn’t pushed, nor, it seemed, would she. It was wearing on Seneca, and it couldn’t be easy on Dylan either.