“A little bit.” I laughed along with him.
We’d said our goodnights and I’d walked back to the house alone, put away my picnic basket and settled into my childhood room for the night. I unpacked my clothes, plugged in my laptop and checked my email, then sat for a few minutes, staring idly at the lavender calico bedspread.
Good Lord, Mom, I thought. That thing has been here since I was sixteen. Time for an upgrade.
It was getting late, and I was wide awake, restless and foolishly replaying my dinner conversation with the Professor in my mind ad nauseam. I decided to take a long bath to soak his voice out of my head, but fifteen minutes later, my body was still anxious and my mind still chattering. I’d moved on from saying his name over and over in my head to whispering it to the bubbles that were quickly fading in the tub.
“Thomas….Thomas,” I said to the suds, giggling at my own idiocy.
I pulled the plug on the bath, and rose, reaching for my towel just as I heard an incoming call ringing on my laptop. Wrapping the towel around me, I sprinted into the bedroom and saw the alert flashing on the laptop screen. Dr. Thomas Grayson was calling me.
“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” I said as I sat in front of the computer screen.
The top of the Professor’s head, tousled, covered by both his arms, filled my field of view.
“Professor? Are you okay?” I asked.
He shook his head no.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
He shook his head again, and answered, a pained muffled sound. But I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Seriously, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“Cousin Matthew,” he wailed, his face still buried under his arms.
“Oh no!” I said, trying to sound sympathetic as I laughed. “Oh no, you watched the last episode, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, lifting his head. He ran a hand over his face, shielding his eyes from my view. “After we got off the phone I cued up the last few minutes of the Christmas episode, because the suspense was killing me. And now I’m too devastated to sleep.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I giggled, and then clapped my hands over my mouth trying to stifle the sound. “Have you been crying?” I asked.
“Not crying,” he said, taking off his glasses. “Just a little misty.” He rubbed his eyes and then replaced the lenses, looking up at me for the first time. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“Hang on, the evening is looking up for me now. Are you in a towel?”
“I am,” I said, looking down at my barely covered cleavage as if I’d suddenly forgotten. “You caught me just getting out of the bath.”
“Oh, how delightful.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and rubbed one hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “You know…I think could survive the sudden and tragic demise of Cousin Matthew, if only I had something lovely to distract me.”
“Something lovely?”
“Something resplendent, even.”
“Ah,” I said, rising from my chair. I tilted the screen of my laptop, adjusting the angle of the camera slightly. I took a few steps back, and plucked at the top of the towel. “So, you’re hoping for a show, are you?”
“A man always hopes, sweet Jane.”
“Well, let me see…” I pulled at the front of the towel, untucking the top. I opened it just a fraction and slipped my leg out to the side. “Maybe…” I whipped off the towel and threw it at the laptop. It landed square on its target, covering the camera completely and blocking me from the Professor’s view.
“Bad form, Claremont! Bad form!” His shouts and laughter rose muffled from under the towel.
“Just a second,” I called. “Just one second.”
“You’re not getting dressed, are you?” he said, his tone laced with horror.
I pulled lace panties, a short night shirt and a pair of knee-high striped socks from a dresser drawer and whipped them on in a flash. Then I darted to the laptop and freed the Professor from his terry cloth prison.
“Oh no,” he sighed when he saw me. “Wait.” He leaned into the camera. “Are those stripy socks?”
“Yes, they are.” I popped my foot up onto the chair and leaned over to my ankle, dragging my fingers up my leg as I smiled.
“Oh, those are hideous—” he said.
“Hey! I love my rainbow socks.”
“And yet,” he said, staying my objections with a raised hand, “bewilderingly arousing.”
I danced back from the camera, and did a little twirl, showing off my unicorn nightshirt and stripy socks to their best effect.
“Oh God, you are awakening every adolescent fantasy I’ve ever forgotten, ” he said, sighing heavily and leaning his chin on his fist.
“Ooo, how fun,” I cooed. Turning my back to the camera I lifted the hem of my night shirt and bent over, flashing him a peek of lacey panties. When I turned back around, his eyes were wide and the smile on his face even wider.
“Hey,” he said, a gleam in his eye, “let’s have a slumber party.”
* * *