The Woman at the Edge of Town

by Georgette Kaplan

  “Well, I always did want to die in bed…”

  Sarah licked her palm before reaching down to find Nina warming, as soft as ever. Her lover’s face instantly flickered with pleasure as Sarah massaged her into readiness, a long, slow smile blooming on her lips. Sarah could see her becoming aroused as well as feeling it, and the combination was absolutely irresistible. “Do you really think I’d be good at it, though? Helping people? Being some kind of healer?”

  “I know you will be. You healed me.” Nina reached down to grab Sarah’s forearm, pausing their lovemaking to look Sarah in the eye. “You saved me. And…” With one supple motion, Sarah was on her back and Nina was over her, her hand between Sarah’s legs, all warmth and tightness and softness and need, waiting for her. “I should be the one to thank you for that.”

  >~~~<

  Sarah jerked upright. That was a voice. A woman’s voice. She’d only heard it because the window was open a crack; it seemed to be coming from the other wing of the house, carried to her by a chance breeze.

  It sounded like someone was in pain.

  Padding out of bed, uncomfortably sensitive to the feel of cool air against her bare skin, Sarah pulled on one of Nina’s nightgowns. Her mother’s daughter, she felt her racing heartbeat slow a whole measure, being all wrapped up in white. She moved to leave the room, eased the knob around, and cracked the door. There was no one in the hallway, but she heard another sound carrying. This one…closer. Dangerous, somehow.

  “Hello?” Sarah called softly, not that she was sure what the point of calling out to someone was when she was whispering. Just in case there was a really polite burglar out there with really good hearing, she supposed. It certainly wasn’t for Barnaby’s sake. He was sleeping at the foot of the bed as if he was in a coma.

  She slipped out the door, something oversensitive sending a twinge through her body. Fuck, this was too much.

  “Please!” The voice again, the woman again. “Oh please!” It definitely sounded as if she was in pain.

  Gathering her courage and trying to ignore her unease, Sarah crept through the house, toward the woman crying out in agony.

  The door to the basement was open.

  She stood in the doorway. A bare lightbulb lit up the base of the stairs and nothing else. Sarah went down the steps. They creaked under her.

  On the last step, the wood gave way to a cement floor. She patted the wall where a light switch would be. Threw them all. More lights came on.

  Well, there were rat traps.

  Then there were the pictures. The ones Nina had shown her in the office were just the beginning. There were some of Nina and her mistress together—maybe taken by automatic timer, maybe by a third party, Sarah didn’t know, didn’t care. There were others of her alone, and here Sarah did care, felt herself caring, a pang in her heart as she realized Nina had taken them. Had been in love.

  On the shelves and tables, under glass, were the random sort of things that could only be memories. Seashells. A saddle for a horse. Handcuffs. No rhyme or reason to it. Except that they’d been hers.

  And there was Nina, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt, rubber gloves over her hands and earbuds in as she pried open sprung rat traps and transferred the corpses into a big black garbage bag.

  “Nice tunes,” Sarah said, as the woman’s cry of pain merged into a driving techno beat.

  “Mmm?” Nina hummed, coming about. She saw Sarah and peeled her gloves off, then took out one earbud. “Sarah, I was hoping to get this done before you woke up. Bit of a nasty chore.”

  “I heard your music,” Sarah said.

  “Oh?” Nina reached down to her pocketed phone and found that the aux cord of her earbuds was dangling at her waist. “Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Marshall sent me a demo track from his brother’s CD—or whatever they use now—and I figured it couldn’t make this job any worse. It’s something called pulsecore, and I’m sure children like it very much.”

  Sarah sat down on the bottom step. “Generation below me. Those guys are freaks.” She looked around. It was as Nina had described it. Cracks in the walls, water damage…but hardly a disaster area. Unless, of course, you counted the mementos of Nina’s old relationship. “Bad breakup?”

  “Yes. It’s funny. I used to just let the rats have this room because I couldn’t bear to come down here, but now—no point in wasting space, is there? If I took down the photos, this would make quite a coffee klatch.”

  “Or a game room,” Sarah said, standing up, pointing around. “TV there, speakers there and there, couch and easy chairs and maybe a little nacho station there. Minifridge. You close the door, I bet you could screen a Michael Bay movie in here, wouldn’t bother anyone on, oh, the second floor.” She crossed her arms, suddenly anxious. “It’s what I would do.”

  Nina wasn’t listening to her. She was looking at the pictures. The memories. Not fondly, but with a thousand-yard stare. As if she was looking over a battlefield she had fought in, finding no more barbed wire or craters, just green grass and sunlight. Trying to square what she was seeing with what she had felt.

  “I should throw them away. As long as I’m down here.”

  “You don’t have to,” Sarah said. “I’m fine with there having been other women in your life…”

  “It wasn’t like that. They’re not those kinds of memories… Are you ever curious about Emmaline and me?”

  Sarah shrugged. “It seems a little like you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t. But…”

  “You can tell me anything. Or not. But either way, I’ll understand.”

  Nina’s mouth gaped open a moment, as if testing the size of something fitting through it. She closed her mouth, rolled her tongue through it, until it finally opened again. “The thing I worry most about is hurting you. That I’ll take advantage of you somehow, that I won’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late. And you’ll hate me.”

  “I could never hate you, Nina.”

  “Let me finish,” Nina insisted, but she held out a hand to put on Sarah’s shoulder. “You’re right. It’s silly of me. Because I’ve been hurt, but it wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t. I told you about Emmaline and how good it could be with her, but there was this other side. Thinking about it is almost like having two sets of memories; I remember it, and it’s like I just woke up from a dream. When we were first dating, we were very into the scene. Other people with our interests. Emmaline was older than me, more experienced, so she showed me around. Taught me. And for a while, it was wonderful. I was learning, I was getting better at anticipating her needs, and she seemed to know everything about me. It was like we were bonded somewhere deep inside. Or maybe it just seems that way now because it changed so much.

  “I would set hard limits, and she would push against them. Things I didn’t want to do. Wasn’t comfortable with. I would say my safe word and she wouldn’t hear. She’d want sessions when I didn’t, and…and slowly I realized that every time I displeased her—really displeased her—that was when she would hurt me. There was no aftercare. Sometimes it was as if she wouldn’t even look at me unless she wanted… Finally, I’d had enough. Bad breakup, if you can still call it that. She would say things, do things, and I just wanted her to stop. And this whole community, which was so welcoming, so supportive… They didn’t want drama. Couldn’t believe she’d do anything bad when she was so nice. I was on the outside looking in, just like that. I came here, and it felt safe, and didn’t stop feeling safe, but everything else felt so twisted and off. Not like this place. Then you came along, and I thought I was ready. But I keep worrying I’m her. I keep worrying you’re me.”

  “You’re nothing like her,” Sarah said.

  “That’s only half of it. Because I tell myself that: Emmaline was doing it on purpose. It was abuse. And I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt you. I just want to love you. I want to be in love with you, but it feels like I don’t know how. I keep thinking it
’ll click. Something one of us does or says will make it so that I don’t feel that way anymore. But I keep feeling everything’s jagged. Sharp edges. I don’t think I’m ever going to be fixed, Sarah. I’ve tried. I should’ve told you before you came out to your mother. I’m sorry. I wanted to give it more time… I’m broken. You should know you’re getting damaged goods.”

  Sarah was quiet for a long time. Nina was quieter.

  “I still miss my dad,” Sarah said. “It might be days, weeks, months, but I miss him over and over again. You think while I wait to stop missing him, you can wait to stop hurting?”

  “Maybe,” Nina said. “With company.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to keep you here…hoard you like a dragon’s gold…”

  “You don’t need to. I’m yours, wherever I go.”

  Nina smiled slightly. “What happened to me being yours?”

  “Yeah, who was I kidding?” Sarah’s lips twitched almost like a grin as she pressed her head against Nina’s. “You don’t have to worry about me. You aren’t keeping me prisoner. You never have. You set me free.”

  “So…you’re going?” Nina sounded exquisitely unsure of how to feel about that. Barely even able to say it out loud.

  “Yes. I think I should go back to college. But that’s all I’m doing. I’m not leaving you, I’m not falling out of love with you, I’m not changing anything. I’m just…doing like you showed me. Figuring out what I want and going after it.”

  Nina smiled proudly, and the grin almost reached her sad eyes. “Sarah Kay: social worker. It has a nice ring to it.”

  “It does,” Sarah agreed. “But that’s not all I’m going after.”

  “Oh?”

  “You, dum-dum.” Sarah gave Nina another kiss to show her just how sincere she was. “If you think a couple hundred miles is going to stop me from romancing you, you’re dead wrong. I’m just gonna up my game. You’re going to be getting romantic letters and sexy phone calls, and there’s this thing called Snapchat, I don’t know if you know it, but it’s going to come in very handy.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Nina promised.

  Sarah took her hands, squeezing them tightly. “Hey. I know what the answer’s going to be, but I’m going to ask: Are you cool with this? Because if you need me, I will always be there for you. If that means school has to wait a year—”

  Nina’s head gave a convulsive shake. “Don’t you dare tempt me. You’ve gone and made me too good a person, Sarah. I can’t be selfish and keep you all to myself. Go back to school, my love. Show everyone else how wonderful you are. I already know.”

  Epilogue

  Between her part-time job and student loans, Sarah could afford an apartment off-campus. After her bedroom in Eileen’s place, it seemed shockingly big, especially with most of her possessions still at home. It all seemed dizzyingly fast for her, even though she’d had months to get used to the idea. Who was she without her mother, without her friends, without Nina? Well, lonely, for one.

  She cut open the single box of books she’d brought—enough to last her a semester, counting the one million on her Kindle—and ruffled around. Her nightstand had a little shelf built into it, the perfect place to show off…the entire run of R.L. Stine’s Fear Street.

  I really should not have grabbed a box at random.

  Her phone rang. Sarah picked it up, checking the caller ID and letting out a little squeal when she saw who it was, then letting all that die down before she answered. “Nina. Hi. You know my mom called three hours before you did?”

  “Really?” Nina’s voice was as droll as ever, no actual surprise in her surprise. “I’m surprised she let you end the call so soon.”

  “I think she had to take a roast out of the oven.”

  “She really is quite a good cook.” For a moment, Nina just let the call hang in the air, and Sarah felt herself simpering. Hearing Nina talk was like having the woman tongue her ear, bite down on her lobe, start promising things that Sarah would be happy to hold her to. And Nina knew it. “So, what’re you wearing?”

  Sarah smirked. There was no way her voice could be as sexy as Nina’s. But maybe, to Nina… “Blouse. Pants. Underwear. I was just feeling sexy.”

  “And what’s your apartment like?” Nina asked, something slyly insinuating even in that innocent question.

  Sarah looked around, lowering her voice to three-dollars-a-minute sultry. “One bedroom, one bathroom, one…other room. Where I change underwear.”

  “Go to the front door,” Nina said seriously.

  Breathing a short sigh through her nostrils, Sarah walked on her bare feet to the door. “Do not tell me…”

  “Open it.”

  Sarah opened the door. There was no one there. She looked to either side in the hallway. Nobody.

  “There’s no one here.”

  “That’s good,” Nina replied. “Then you shouldn’t have any problem taking your shirt off.”

  Sarah froze. Nina’s brusque come-on sounded good, so good it took Sarah a split second to remember where she was and that stripping while on the phone with Nina wouldn’t result in the same quality time as stripping in person. “What, with the door open?”

  “Why not?” Nina asked her. The lilt in her voice was like a perfectly raised eyebrow—Sarah could just picture it—suggesting all kinds of rewards the next time they met in person. Maybe this long-distance thing could work out after all.

  Taking one last look around the hallway, Sarah stripped her shirt off before putting the phone to her ear again. She shivered as the air touched her bare skin, a lot cooler than it had been when it was just blowing against her hands and face. “There. I did it.”

  “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Sarah?”

  Sarah smiled despite herself. She felt sexy, with the thought of Nina on the other end of the phone, picturing her. She could almost feel Nina’s eyes on her, and her hand flexed convulsively on the phone. She could feel her nipples puckering inside her bra. “When have you ever known me to be modest? Can I close the door now? I’m letting a draft in.”

  “No, leave it open, I think.” Nina’s voice was becoming a little husky. Still poised, still in control, but Sarah could imagine her lips parting, or her legs spreading… “Go back into the living room.”

  Sarah stepped backward, the open door becoming more intimidating as it shrank in her view. She couldn’t just slam it shut anymore. If someone were to walk by, they’d be able to get a good look at her tetons. “It’s really more of a game room,” Sarah quipped, trying to put away the thought of Nina enjoying herself to this call. She was still half sure it was crazy—that the proper place to have a sexy phone call was in the bathroom, door locked, shower running just in case the FBI was eavesdropping.

  “And take your pants off,” Nina breathed. She was definitely panting a little. She didn’t even pant when she picked Sarah up and carried her to bed—another mental image Sarah wasn’t sure she should be entertaining with the door open.

  “Do you have any particularly clever response if I do a ‘buy me a drink first’ joke?”

  “No, I think that’s perfectly clever on its own,” Nina said. Her voice sounded harsh, close to the phone’s mouthpiece. Maybe she was holding it in place with her shoulder. Maybe her hands were doing other things. “This is taking a while, Sarah. From what I recall, it’s not that hard to get your pants off…”

  Sarah undid the button, unzipped the zipper, and shuffled her shorts down her legs. Adrenaline was flooding into her as she stared at the door. Was that a footstep she heard? No—just more creaking in the old building’s bones.

  “You’re lucky I’m wearing clean underwear, or there’s no way I’d be doing this.”

  “I’m not sure I’m the lucky one when it comes to you wearing clean underwear.” Nina was virtually purring now, a slight elevation in her voice prickling Sarah’s ears, making her wonder what Nina was wearing—if anything. “Why don’t you go into the bedroom?”

  Sarah bi
t her lip. If Nina was in there, sprawled out on the bed in expensive lingerie, this would be worth all the anxiety in the world. If she wasn’t wearing any lingerie, Sarah would try to contain her disappointment.

  There was no one there when she opened the door, just her lonely, empty bed.

  “Door open? Good.” Now Nina sounded dryly amused and heatedly aroused, all at once. “Take off your bra.”

  Sarah squeezed her thighs together. Shit, she was getting wet. If she didn’t stop now, she’d be humping her pillow when some well-meaning neighbor walked in to make sure she hadn’t had a stroke. “Okay, Nina, if we’re going R-rated, then I really have to ask for an explanation here.”

  “You love me and want to make me happy?” Nina teased.

  “I would like something more—”

  Sarah heard footsteps coming down the hallway. She hid behind the bedroom door and watched, eyes starkly focused, as someone walked by the front door in a blur. Thankfully, they didn’t slow down or investigate the open door, even with her shirt laying just inside the apartment. This was crazy, this was so damn crazy…

  “Sarah,” Nina said firmly, “take your bra off.” And she moaned, like just saying the words was turning her on as much as it was Sarah. So how could Sarah not join her, share this with her, especially when it felt so good?

  “Okay, okay…” Sarah hurriedly opened the hook on her bra and threw it down inside the doorway. She backed a few more steps into the bedroom, protectively clasping her arms in front of her chest.

  “Now get onto the bed.”

  Sarah crossed the room and sat down on it, grabbing up a pillow to hide behind, even though there was now a wall between her and the front door. All she could think of was how whoever it had been that’d walked by could turn around at any moment and catch her, they could be setting down their mail in their own apartment right now and looping back to see what was wrong. And all the thought did was arouse her.

  “And why don’t you take your panties off too?” Nina’s voice a whisper, as if she was right beside Sarah, saying her naughty words right into Sarah’s ear. “It must be maddening to be almost completely naked except for those little cotton things…”