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    Someone to Watch over Me – 2

    Story written on January 19, 2007 by NYGayLady.
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    1 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 51 vote, average: 5.00 out of 5 (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 26
    Words: 1318
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=64100
    Author Notes:

    Sounds like a plan.

                Faculty functions bored her, but Tina went nonetheless, occasionally making a new friend out of a face she’d never seen before.  She enjoyed the thrill of meeting people with no preconceived notions of how the night should end.  She preferred people who liked her for her mind, or to whom it at least ran a close second.  This time she stood off to the side, observing as she had so many times before the interactions and body language of her colleagues.  She leaned casually against the wall, a glass of some less than stellar wine in hand, debating how much longer she had to stay before it was acceptable to sneak out.

                “Have you decided yet?” came a smiling voice from just behind her shoulder.  She jumped slightly, turning toward the sound.

                “Decided what?”

                “How much longer you’re staying.”

                “Was it that obvious?”  Tina laughed, momentarily glancing down. 

    The dark haired woman grinned at her, tucking a loose strand behind her ear before replying, “I was just debating the same thing.”  Tina smiled back at her, sticking her hand out.

    “Tina Kennard.”

    “Bette Porter,” she replied, grasping Tina’s hand warmly and firmly.  “What do you say we take a seat and try to get through this together?”

    “Sounds like a plan.”

    *          *            *            *            *

                “Which department do you teach for?”

                “Film.”

                “For how long?”

                “Eight years.”

                “They must have nabbed you right out of your masters program.”

                “Almost.”

                Bette whistled.  “Impressive.”

                “Not very.  What about you?”

                “Art.  Four years in January.”

                “What kind of art?”

                “History as well.”

                “Married?  Engaged?”
                “Single.  You?  Married?  Engaged?”

                “No… really gay.”

                “Aha.  That explains why you’re not hanging all over some dimwitted macho man like every other woman in here.”

                “What’s your story?”

                “Just really single with nothing to prove.”

                “I like it.  Quite a statement.”

                “Thanks.”

    *          *            *            *            *

                They chatted through the rest of the function, not noticing as the others trickled out.  It wasn’t until the music stopped at midnight that they realized they were two of about a dozen people left in the room and broke out into giggles as their eyes met.

                “I guess time and faculty functions fly when you’re engaged in decent conversation,” Bette quipped.

                “Guess so.  I wonder if you’d let me escort you home?  Could share a cab, cut the bother in half?” offered Tina.

                “Sounds like a plan.”

    *          *            *            *            *

                The next morning Tina woke gently.  She turned towards the clock and through her early morning haze realized that, for the first time in ten years, she’d slept until noon.  Panicked, she searched for Yankee only to find him still passed out at the foot of the bed.  She got up and dressed quickly, rousing him in the process.

                Later, as she sat with her cup of coffee and stared out the window, she struggled to put her finger on what was different this morning; last night couldn’t possibly be the cause.  She’d talked to Bette, made a new friend, learned all about her and stayed to see the end of the function for the first time.  She dwelled on how Bette’ hair had perfectly fallen around her shoulders in loose curls, how her deep brown eyes glittered as she talked about art and her classes.  How her dress had rested against the curves of her frame and how soft her hand felt when she rested it on Tina’s arm in a moment of companionable humor.  As she finished the last cold traces of her coffee, she resolved to see Bette again, to make a point of becoming better friends.  After all, she reasoned, if I can’t have her, the least I can give myself is her friendship.

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    Comments

    1. Well look who leapt from the ranks of the commenters…I just caught up with your story today and I’m duly impressed. While you’ve put the characters into a different circumstance, you’re still remaining true to how they were originally presented to us. Thanks for writing, and bring on the rest of the story!

    7. Ok NY. I fricken luv this story already. I’m only sorry I didn’t read it sooner. Can’t the chappys be longer? I want more!!!Please don’t stop writing anytime soon, you are good! I like your format, its very smooth. Why havn’t you written sooner? Puleese post soooooon!

    17. Ah… friendship… ;) Friendship is indeed good… but seeing the thing you want that is so near yet ‘untouchable’ is just a sweet torture heh? Is it tomorrow yet?

    18. hey New York… well another New Yorker here… and i am loving your story… now who said they were gay… or did they both pick it up as the night continued… and i bet your a ynakee fan… hmmmmmmm… don’t worry if you are i will still read your story… lol… (I love the METS)… later babe

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