Читать книгу Bobby Blanchard, Lesbian Gym Teacher - Monica Nolan - Страница 11

The afternoon sun beat down on the still campus as Bobby emerged from Cornwall and walked swiftly down the road to the big stone gates. No one else seemed to be stirring and that suited her fine; she didn’t want to answer any questions about where she was going.

At the gate she leaned against the cool gray pillar, shaded by a big pine tree, and ran her fingers through her hair. She glanced at her wristwatch. Elaine had said 3:30.

A cold beer in a dim bar with Elaine looking adoringly across the table at her, that’s what Bobby needed. And then later they’d go back to the Ellman mansion—of course, Elaine would drop Bobby off first on a deserted stretch of Glen Valley Road, so she could sneak around the back way and they wouldn’t be seen together. But except for the sneaking around part, it would be almost like that poem Elaine had recited when they’d first strolled on the green lawn in front of the hospital, about thou and I and a jug of wine or something. Bobby couldn’t remember the exact words. But she remembered Elaine wearing her candy striper uniform and reciting it, looking like a younger Nina Foch, a slender brunette with a husky voice.

The smooth purr of Elaine’s little blue Triumph announced her arrival. Bobby slid into the passenger seat. “Hi, honey,” she said, leaning over for a kiss. But Elaine was already wrestling the car into a narrow U-turn, pointing it back toward Adena. “Not here,” she said instantly.

“Afraid the squirrels will tell?” Bobby couldn’t help asking.

“Don’t sulk.” Elaine glanced over at the disappointed gym teacher and demanded, “What on earth are you wearing a skirt for?”

Bobby looked down at her cotton skirt, then back at Elaine. “Aren’t we going to the Flame Inn?”

Elaine shifted gears impatiently. “Bobby, you know I can’t afford to be seen with you in a place like that.”

“Who’s going to notice? Who’s going to care if two girlfriends have a quiet drink together?”

It was an argument they’d had before and Bobby knew how it would play out, like a scene in a movie she’d watched too many times.

“A girl in my position gets gossiped about,” said Elaine on cue. “And we don’t look like we do our nails together.”

Elaine was picky about appearances, and it was hard to predict what would please her. Bobby’s penchant for pants in public always made Elaine uneasy. But when Bobby was forced to forgo her favorite dungarees for a skirt, Elaine complained she “didn’t look like herself.”

“That’s why I wore the darned skirt,” Bobby argued halfheartedly. “And who’s going to know you in a hick town like Adena anyway?”

Elaine arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you notice the Ellman Cycle store on the corner of Main and Mesquakie? It’s one of the top-selling stores in this part of the state. The manager sat at our table at the annual sales dinner. He’s been to our house!”

Bobby was silenced. That was the drawback of being with a girl like Elaine Ellman, daughter of Eddie Ellman, granddaughter of Erwin Ellman, the founder of Ellman’s Bicycles. Ellman bicycles were everywhere. And Elaine was convinced every salesman was reporting her activities back to her overprotective father.

“So where are we going?”

“I thought we’d have a picnic at Mesquakie Point.”

“A picnic,” Bobby repeated.

“Well, where are we supposed to go?” Elaine blew up. “You’re the one who had to take this crazy job out in the sticks! Games Mistress!”

Bobby held her tongue as Elaine turned right onto Mesquakie Point Road. Clearly the young candy striper was in one of her irritable moods, when the littlest thing was liable to set her off. Bobby reminded herself of the pressure Elaine was under—her candy-striping duties kept her on the go three afternoons a week, and innumerable social obligations claimed the rest of her time. It was no wonder she was out of sorts.

“Take that left up ahead,” Bobby suggested after they’d driven a few minutes in silence.

“Why? The picnic grounds are this way.”

“Ole Amundsen, Metamora’s groundskeeper, told me this road goes all the way to the point and no one ever uses it. He says there’s better spots here than the public picnic grounds. It’ll be nice and—private.”

“Oh, you! You only have one thing on your mind.” But Elaine made the turn and Bobby knew she wasn’t really annoyed. At the hospital, Elaine had always been ready to duck into an empty occupational therapy room for some heavy petting.

Several minutes later the Triumph bumped off the road and stopped between two majestic firs. Bobby lifted the picnic basket from the trunk and carried it through a grove of younger trees and brush to the clearing while Elaine followed with a heavy blanket. There was no sound but the wind in the trees and, faint in the distance, the rushing water of the Muskrat River rapids. Bobby set down the picnic basket and helped Elaine spread the blanket. She noticed a faint indentation in the ground, and a ragged line of stones. “Look.” She kicked one of the stones, half buried in the earth. “It’s an old foundation stone. We’re picnicking in someone’s front yard.”

“Whose? This has been a state park forever.”

“One of the massacred settlers, probably. Don’t you know the state park is here because of the massacre?”

“I’d forgotten.” Elaine shivered. “It gives me the willies. Should we look for someplace else?”

“We’re fine here,” said Bobby, dropping to the blanket and lying back. She reached up her hand. “I’ll chase any ghosts away.”

Elaine took her hand and Bobby felt instantly the almost electric charge between them, a current that pulled its power from the sneaking around, their little spats, the famous Ellman name, the innocent candy-striper uniform, even Bobby’s new status as a teacher. She drew Elaine down next to her on the striped blanket. Elaine lay back, her eyes half closed as Bobby pulled Elaine’s blouse out of the waistband of her skirt so she could slide one hand underneath while she undid the buttons with her other hand. Elaine lay passively, a little smile on her lips, doing nothing except arching her back slightly, so Bobby could reach underneath her and undo the catch of her lacy white brassiere.

“Better?” murmured Bobby in her ear as she began caressing the supine girl.

“Mmm…” Elaine was never much for words in situations like this. Or action. But that suited Bobby fine. Like Coach Mabel always used to say, “When you get control of the ball, keep control of the ball. Don’t pass it to a player who’s unprepared.”

Elaine moaned and rocked her hips. She pulled Bobby’s head down, and Bobby lost track of her own metaphor in the hot delight that was Elaine’s kiss. Was Elaine the ball or the other player? Was she defense or offense? Who had possession of the ball now, at this particular moment in time, when Elaine’s thigh was grinding into Bobby’s crotch and Bobby had her hand up Elaine’s skirt and their lips were fused together? Who was winning?

Later, they both lay on the blanket, Elaine’s head pillowed on Bobby’s shoulder. They’d consumed the picnic Elaine had brought, as ravenous for the food as they’d been for each other. Bobby had her hand curled around the last beer. Elaine lit a cigarette, and Bobby watched the haze of blue-gray smoke slowly rise and dissipate in the clear country air. “Want one?” Elaine asked.

“I’m in training,” Bobby replied automatically.

Elaine turned to look at Bobby, propping her head on her hand. Her large brown eyes, fringed with dark lashes, were extraordinarily beautiful, and Bobby wanted to dive into them and die a delicious death by drowning. She leaned forward, intending to kiss the freckled tip of Elaine’s nose, but the other girl blocked her, taking a drag on her cigarette.

“In training for what?” Elaine asked. “You’re not on a field hockey team anymore. You’re not going pro, like you planned.”

The words sounded harsh, issuing from those velvety red lips. Bobby leaned back and looked at the sky. “No, I’m not on a team anymore.” Not on a team. Not a right wing. Not going out with the rest of the girls for early-morning sprints and drills. On her own. “But I’m a physical education instructor now—”

“Gym teacher!” Elaine hooted. “I still can’t believe Metamora hired you!”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“Metamora…Well, it’s just not you, Bobby. It has a reputation. Famous women have gone to Metamora—like Mamie McArdle, the columnist, Harriet Hurd, the diplomat, and Vivian Mercer-Mayer, the socially prominent heiress. Metamora’s caviar on toast points, and you, you’re more pork and beans.” She added hastily, “Don’t get me wrong, darling, you know I love pork and beans.”

Bobby didn’t mind the comparison. She liked pork and beans too. But she was curious about Elaine’s sudden expertise. “How do you know so much about Metamora?”

“Elsie Cooper went there,” said Elaine as if this explained everything. Sometimes she forgot that she’d never introduced Bobby to anyone in her social circle. “Actually, she almost had a nervous breakdown when she was rejected by Metamora’s chapter of the Daughters of the American Pioneers. You know,” she said as Bobby looked at her blankly. “That high school society. The chapter at Metamora is supposed to be terribly exclusive.”

“Well, the teachers aren’t exclusive. They’re all nice and friendly.” Bobby made a mental reservation in the case of Enid Butler. “Besides, Miss Watkins said—”

“Oh, those silly tests.” Elaine dismissed the vocational counselor with a wave of her hand. “Are you honestly going to turn yourself into a gym teacher because a punch card tells you to?”

“Well, what do you think I should do?” Bobby asked weakly.

“I think you should become a golf pro at the Glen Valley Country Club,” said Elaine decisively.

“A golf pro,” Bobby repeated thoughtfully. In some ways the idea was tempting—at the country club, no one would expect her to be intellectual. And maybe it would be nice to finally meet some of Elaine’s social circle. Bobby was tired of her teammates calling her “Back-alley Bobby.”

“Of course, we’d have to pretend not to know each other. Do you think you could remember to call me Miss Ellman, just at first?” Elaine dipped her head and kissed Bobby swiftly, flicking her tongue teasingly against Bobby’s. “Just think, I could improve my golf game and see you at the same time! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“Sure,” Bobby murmured as Elaine threw her leg over Bobby’s. Bobby slid her hand over the curve of Elaine’s hip, and Elaine kissed her with increasing passion

A branch cracked in the stillness and Elaine sat up suddenly, still astride Bobby. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” said Bobby, her hands squeezing Elaine’s rounded bottom. “A squirrel or a bear or something.” As Elaine continued to look around nervously, she couldn’t help adding, “I don’t think it’s your father, or even the manager of Adena’s Ellman Cycle shop.”

“That’s not funny,” Elaine bristled. She got to her feet and straightened her skirt. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

Bobby didn’t argue. The golden glow of twilight was dimming, and the cares and worries of her new job flooded back in. The bulk of students would arrive on Monday and her lesson plans were still in a jumble. Elaine’s stories about Metamora’s caviar-eating girls had done nothing to quiet the butterflies in her stomach.

“You’ll think about the golf pro position, won’t you?” said Elaine as they packed the picnic things.

“Sure, sure.” Bobby didn’t want to quarrel with the cycle heiress—or have to admit that her golf game wasn’t what it should be.

Elaine carefully backed the roadster onto the rutted side road and they bounced their way back to the paved road.

“Did you see that?” Bobby exclaimed just as they reached the main road.

“What?” The little Triumph picked up speed.

“Nothing,” said Bobby. She thought she’d seen a shadowy figure, bicycling through the trees. But that was ridiculous. It must have been some sort of optical illusion. There was no sense in alarming Elaine.

It was probably a deer, she told herself.