Tessa's Escape to Athena's Ground

by Brianna Salera

  Tessa noodled around, sometimes drawn into shops out of professional curiosity and other times because an item caught her eye. She looked at one such item now.

  “That would look stunning on you,” the sales clerk said, sidling up to Tessa.

  “It’s beautiful,” Tessa said, holding silky fabric against her body.

  The clerk smiled. “It’s very sexy without being vulgar. Would you like to try it on?”

  The clerk led Tessa to a dressing room. “I have the perfect undergarment for that dress. Would you like me to bring it to you?”

  The dress was very low cut, though not as wildly provocative as the emerald dress she’d worn with Ben. But without the proper undergarment…“Yes, please do.”

  “B? Thirty-four or thirty-six?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  The clerk hurried off and Tessa examined the dress. It was silk charmeuse the color of ripe pomegranate and the bodice was cut very close to the body. The point of the V-neckline ended several inches below the bust line, but the cut of the gown—if it fit correctly—would keep the fabric where it was supposed to be. The dress flared softly at the hips and ended just below the knees. Tessa imagined how the fabric would move with each step, sensual yet elegant.

  “Here it is,” the clerk said, handing Tessa a cream-colored lace bustier with rosy pink piping. “It’s cut very well for that neckline and if the dress should happen to move, no worries. This bustier is beautiful and it covers the essentials.”

  “Essentials” was a code word for areolas and nipples, which still left a lot of bare skin showing.

  “You can’t know how it will look unless you try them on,” the clerk urged. “I’ve sold this combination several times. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  And Tessa was.

  The cream-colored lace and feminine pink piping softened the impact of an otherwise outrageously revealing bustier. It was cut very low, with coverage beginning just above the dark pink skin around Tessa’s nipples. The cups did not meet in the center, creating a provocative strip of bare breast straight down the middle of Tessa’s torso. The seams and stays pushed her breasts up, giving her ample cleavage and curves. Yet even when Tessa twisted and leaned, her nipples and the dark ring around them remained covered.

  Tessa slid the silk charmeuse over her head and felt it glide past her bustier and hips. The hemline hit her just below the knees, and the airy sway of fabric made Tessa feel like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Grace Kelly.

  While the emerald dress had taken her breath away with blatant, nearly-naked sexuality, this dress was more titillating than ribald. The bottom of the neckline’s V ended mere inches above Tessa’s naval and the bustier did not cover the valley between Tessa’s breasts. With the right vantage point, a man could admire a long stretch of soft, naked skin.

  “I’ll take it,” Tessa said.

  “It’s gorgeous on you. I also have an amazing shaper half-slip.” Before Tessa could respond, the clerk was off to fetch it. When she returned she handed it to Tessa for inspection. “The charmeuse will show every little bump and line. I recommend this slip with no panties. It will tuck right under the bottom of the bustier and give your derrière and thighs a very sleek silhouette.”

  Tessa tried it on. Like all shapers it was skin tight, but the spandex moved with her, so it was reasonably comfortable. Best of all, it erased all the bumps and imperfections any flesh and blood woman was bound to have. She took it too. By the time she was finished, Tessa’s credit card was smoking and the sales clerk was smiling.

  Tessa hung the new dress in the closet as soon as she returned to her room. She kicked off her shoes, uncapped a Diet Coke and turned on her laptop. Her face lit up when she saw she had a new email from David.

  Tessa,

  I don’t know what to say. You told me you had issues and I figured they must be significant if you went all the way to Australia to find some resolution. But that you tried suicide in May? Of course I couldn’t have known, but Tessa, I would never have even guessed; you seem like such a happy person.

  I mean no disrespect to your late husband, but how could any man cheat on a woman like you? I don’t get it. And I do mean exceptional disrespect to that guy you dated. I’m not a violent man, but if you ever pointed him out, say we were riding on the subway and you said, ‘that’s him!’…I’d be overcome with a desire to turn into Rambo. Maybe it’s a guy thing or just a human thing when a person cares about someone.

  I know we haven’t met in the flesh (yet). But we share our feelings about a zillion things as well as our daily ups and downs. I look forward to your emails or calls, and especially, your beautiful face when we have a chance to Skype. Since you’ve just been very open with me, let me do the same: Tessa, I’m nuts about you and want nothing more than to see if our friendship blossoms into something more.

  On a lighter note, guess who’s gotten out of the cold weather? My boss is sick as a dog and needed me to pinch hit for him at a meeting in Honolulu. I didn’t have anything else going and it’s always good to be owed a favor by the guy who signs your paychecks (metaphorically speaking anyway.) Also, it’s a chance for me to shine in my new position. And, full disclosure, being in sunny Hawaii wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a guy. I’ve got today to get over some jetlag and get up to speed on the boss’s notes. Meeting starts at 9:00 tomorrow, Hawaii time. (I think I’m a day behind you, more or less.) Wish me luck.

  By the way, guess what I’m wearing right now? A really cool koala tee shirt. I figured if I couldn’t be with you, I’d be with your ‘favorite Aussie.’ I’ve never had a tee shirt expressed to me from half way across the world, so I know this koala truly is special. It came just as I was packing for Hawaii, and I needed another clean shirt (just kidding).Seriously, thank you.

  I just want to say this: before you left New York, you asked me to support your Australian journey and I (mostly) did. Now that I know your backstory, my support level is different. Now it’s:

  One. Million. Percent.

  Your favorite Chicagoan, and (I hope) your favorite guy, David

  -22-

  SUNDAY EVENING

  It seemed like an odd time to begin their first session, but the instructions were clear. Tessa was to meet Russell Sunday at 6:00 p.m. in the hotel bar. At 5:50 Tessa left her room, wearing the gorgeous silk charmeuse. Was it her imagination or did nearly every man she passed stop to take her in? The power of a well-cut gown and expensive underwear, she thought.

  Tessa took a seat at the bar. She was there only two minutes when a man sat in the stool next to her.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Tessa’s first thought was that this must be Russell. The problem was he didn’t look anything like the photograph she’d seen in Carmen’s office.

  “I’m waiting for a friend,” she said. If this was Russell, surely he’d say so.

  “I’d like to be your friend. How about we share a drink?”

  Ah. Not Russell. “No thank you.”

  When the man leaned closer, Tessa could smell the alcohol on his breath. He had watery blue eyes and he actually licked his lips like he was about to eat something tasty.

  “Darlin’ you are about the prettiest thing I’ve seen. You can’t say no to a friendly little drink.” He leaned even closer, practically drooling down Tessa’s neckline as he strained to get a peek under her dress. He brought his hand toward Tessa and it wasn’t clear whether he was aiming for her shoulder or her breast.

  “The lady said no.”

  A voice boomed from behind them. It wasn’t menacing, but it certainly wasn’t friendly. Before the drunk could lay his hand on Tessa, a large hand grabbed a fistful of collar and yanked him to his feet.

  “No means no,” the man said, and the drunk started to object, but stopped as soon as his alcohol-soaked brain cells processed the fact that the man who’d yanked him was at least 6’4” and two hundred pounds, mostly muscle.

  “Didn’t mean
any harm,” the drunk said.

  “Doesn’t matter what you mean; only what you do. You invaded the lady’s space when she told you no. Now that pisses me off. Unless you want a mouthful of broken teeth, leave now.”

  The man said it all calmly, but there was no mistaking his tone, or his ability to carry out his threat. His right fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. The drunk decided Tessa wasn’t worth facial reconstruction and left.

  “Sorry about that,” the man said as he sat in the stool vacated by the drunk. “I’m Russell. Are you alright?”

  Tessa was pale. “A little shaken.”

  “Touch on an old memory…a particularly bad one?”

  Of course. Russell was part of the therapy team and would know Tessa’s secrets, especially the not so pretty ones, like rape. “Yes.”

  Russell leaned closer. He smelled of soap and spearmint gum. “Breathe slowly and deeply. Don’t try to brush away your memories or feelings, let them come, but remember you’re no longer there. It’s in the past, and it can’t hurt you now.”

  Tessa took a long, full breath and remembered the feel of Kent’s hands as he pushed her dress up and forced himself upon her. Her heart thumped wildly, and she took another deep breath.

  “It’s all right, Tessa. You’re safe. Keep taking those slow, deep breaths.”

  Tessa listened to the calm, warm sound of Russell’s voice. She’d known him for about sixty seconds and already she was mesmerized by him.

  “Better, now?” he asked after a couple minutes.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He took her hand. “Let’s go for a walk. The fresh air will do us good.” He glanced at Tessa’s shoes. “Are you okay to walk in those?”

  “Depends on how far.”

  “How about a few blocks?”

  “I can handle that.”

  Out on the sidewalk, Russell said, “That wasn’t the way I’d hoped to start our sessions, but it brought up a good point.”

  “I shouldn’t wear low cut dresses to a bar?”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself for someone else’s bad behavior. And,” he smiled, “I need to teach you some moves that would knock an asshole like that on his butt.”

  Tessa smiled; a big, toothy grin. “I think I’d like that.”

  “We’ll work on it.”

  By the time they reached their destination, an Italian restaurant five blocks from Tessa’s hotel, both were relaxed and chatting. About kickboxing.

  “Seriously,” Russell said as he opened the door for Tessa to enter, “it is great exercise. And if you ever have to use it, a well-placed foot to the groin does amazing things to a man’s libido.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Tessa said.

  Russell ordered a bottle of Chianti and they decided on an antipasto platter to start. Like the appetizer they shared, their conversation was a nibble of this and a bite of that, and Russell kept it lively. He was also masterful at getting Tessa to talk. She’d waxed philosophical on the difficulties of designing the perfect sundress. She talked about her design business, both before and after Mark’s death, and the stress of being a little fish in a very big pond. And occasionally she found herself revealing something she hadn’t consciously thought about in years.

  “I still miss my parents,” she said, half way through her veal and second glass of wine. “My inheritance made the financial aspects of life easy. It provided Mark and me with the start-up capital for the business. And unless I do something really stupid, it should be enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. But I’d give it all up to have my mom to talk to.”

  “Your mom meant a lot to you.”

  “Yeah. Dad, too. When I was twelve I got it into my head that I was going to be a fashion designer. So dad converted a spare bedroom into a ‘design studio’ for me. He stocked it like a real working studio, too. Of course, he also expected me to work like a real designer.” Tessa laughed. “But I got even. Every Christmas and birthday, until I was sixteen or seventeen, I gave him my menswear line ‘samples.’ I made some of the most horrible ties and vests ever. They were hideous, and dad wore them to work! In fact, he wore one of my vests, a particularly heinous one, I might add, in his official company photograph one year. The damn thing appeared in the Annual Report and everything.”

  “Sounds like a great dad,” Russell said. And then, like the master of conversation that he was, he moved onto another topic, and got Tessa talking about the first time she kissed a boy.

  “It wasn’t actually Mark, but it was definitely for Mark’s benefit.”

  “Now that’s a picture I can’t wrap myself around.”

  “Not like that!” Tessa laughed. “I was a freshman in high school and I had a massive crush on the handsome, athletic older Mark, who was a sophomore. At the frosh/soph spring dance, I manipulated Jerry Dortmeyer into kissing me when I knew Mark was watching. It worked. Mark asked me to dance and we were together from that moment on.”

  Russell refilled Tessa wine glass. “It must have been crushing when you discovered the manner in which Mark died.”

  Tessa hadn’t seen that one coming, but she should have known the conversation would turn serious at some point. This wasn’t a first date or even a causal dinner with an old friend.

  “For years, I blamed myself. If Mark had a passionate wife…” Tessa forced herself to face Russell’s gaze. “I don’t know where I got it. Whether it was from my mom or the church they raised me in or what. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve been very conservative.”

  “I take it you’re not referring to politics here.”

  “No, I’m not. I’ve never told anyone this, but you’re a good listener, not to mention my therapist—of sorts. My wedding day was the best day of my life. My wedding night, was the worst. I was a virgin and completely overwhelmed. It was awful, not because Mark didn’t try. He did. But he expected me to enjoy sex, the way he did. And I just didn’t.”

  “It’s common for women to need a few, shall we say, practice rounds before the game becomes fun.”

  “Sure. But the game never became particularly fun for me. I tolerated sex because I owed it to my husband and because I liked the before and after, the sweet cajoling and the falling asleep in his arms.”

  “That’s not the Tessa I’ve heard about from Jason and Ben.”

  Tessa blushed. “I came to Athena’s Ground because traditional talk therapy wasn’t helping me enough. I had everything on the outside and nothing on the inside. I couldn’t figure out how to fill the emptiness and stop the pain.”

  “It drove you to attempt suicide.”

  Tessa smiled, but it was a sad one. “It was stupid. The help was out there all along. Instead, I could have died.”

  “But you didn’t. And now you’re using your second chance wisely.”

  “Carmen helped me understand. The old Tessa shut herself off from some of the best things about being human. And I don’t mean just the sex itself.” Tessa grinned. “Though I’m beginning to understand how really nice that is.”

  Russell raised his glass of Chianti in agreement.

  Tessa thought about her milkshake meeting with Shawntay, a few months and a lifetime ago. “Traditional talk therapy probably works for most women. Apparently, I needed something waaaay out of the box.”

  Russell chuckled. “Well, you certainly got it.”

  “I want to feel and experience…”

  Russell held up his hand and interrupted. “Tessa, you need to feel and experience…”

  “Always the teacher,” she said. “Yes, I need to feel and experience and open myself to healthy emotional—and sexual—relationships. Talk therapy was the roadmap. Field therapy is getting behind the wheel and driving.”

  Russell grinned. “Nice analogy. And by the way, you’ve done some pretty remarkable driving, for a woman with a learner’s permit.”

  “I’ve had remarkable driving instructors.” Tessa drained the last of her—third?—glass of Chian
ti. She was feeling bold. “Just how good of a driver are you, and can you teach as good as you drive?”

  Russell leaned against Tessa. He slipped his fingers under the red and white napkin draped across her lap and rested his palm on top of the silky dress Tessa wore. His finger immediately located Tessa’s clitoris, as if it came equipped with sonar. Tessa gasped, partly because of the surprise and partly because he was already igniting sparks. Reflexively, Tessa relaxed her thighs to give Russell greater access. He circled Tessa’s sweet spot and watched her eyes. They were beginning to show signs of dilation.

  “I’ve not even backed the car out of the drive and you’re almost fully aroused.” He abruptly pulled his hand away. “I think I’ve demonstrated my point. Waiter,” Russell said, raising his hand, “When you can, the check please.” To Tessa, he whispered, “It’s time to get behind the wheel for real, don’t you agree?”

  Tessa nodded. Driving had never sounded so good.

  -23-

  “It’s only five blocks, I can walk it,” Tessa said as Russell hailed a cab.

  “We’re not going to the hotel.” Russell opened the back door and gently pressed Tessa to slide in. When he was in beside her, he gave an address to the driver.

  “Where are we going?” Tessa asked.

  “A private club.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t back out of the drive going eighty.”

  Tessa thought about it and said, “Oh…”

  Russell rested his hand on the back of her neck and played with wisps of her hair until the cab pulled up to a small brick building. Lights were on inside and music oozed from the door and windows. Tessa listened closely, made out the song, and said, “Sinatra?”

  “And the like. Some contemporary versions, like Bublé.” Russell rang the bell and a man dressed in a tuxedo opened the door. “Russell Thompson and guest,” he said, showing the doorman a card from his wallet.

  “Welcome back, sir. Is this the lady’s first visit?”

  “Yes.”