She slipped into her robe and began to draw a bath. The tub was rather old and took a while to fill so she puttered around sorting and packing some last minute items. Second term had ended right after classes the day before and the last of the students had finally left. Most of the teachers had already gone home too, but she, and a handful of other staff, had volunteered to stay on the extra day to supervise the students whose buses, trains and planes left a day later.
She rarely took baths. As a senior history teacher, she often met with student after student right through the afternoon and into the early evening. Then there were general and departmental staff meetings, and she also mentored a couple of the less experienced teachers. Not to mention piles of essays to read and mark. Most nights, when she finally retired to her room, she barely had the time and energy for a quick hot shower.
After years of working in local Perth day schools while raising her children, she appreciated the change of pace and atmosphere that the Melbourne boarding school brought. With her three children now raising their own families, scattered across the country, and her husband still spending 18 hours a day at the office, she'd seen no reason to turn down the offer when it came. And she was glad she hadn't. She had grown professionally in her two years at Carlton Manor more than in the ten years before that.
A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Clara? Are you in there?"
"One moment!" she called, hastily tying her robe, pulling on slippers and turning off the water. "Who's there?"
"It's me, Jennifer."
Jennifer. Clara felt her cheeks flush slightly and she shook out her hair to give it some body. She opened the door, smiled, and invited Jennifer inside.
"How's it going, honey?" Jennifer asked.
Jennifer called everyone "honey" or "sweetie." No one else seemed to care, but each time she heard it, Clara felt warm and happy.
Jennifer was new to the Manor, and, in fact, new to the country. She was American, and her first two terms in Australia had been quite the learning experience for everyone. Jennifer was far younger than Clara but the two had become friends immediately. They couldn't have been more different.
Jennifer was young, a seasoned traveler, art teacher extraordinaire, single, and well, American. The students found her entertaining and she openly enjoyed the attention. Clara on the other hand, was middle-aged (although she preferred to think of herself as "ripe"), married with children and grandchildren, had spent all her life in Australia save for one fleeting trip to Bali with girlfriends in her 20s, and while respected and admired by the students, she was certainly not considered "interesting" or "exciting".
And yet the friendship flourished. Clara had helped Jennifer understand Australian etiquette and culture, and Jennifer regaled Clara with stories of her time abroad. From time to time Clara wondered what it was that Jennifer saw in her, but she kept popping into her room at random times for a chat, and Clara became confident the friendship would last.
But slowly, her feelings had changed. It had started a few months ago, without her even realizing it. It had been a particularly stressful day and Jennifer had offered to give her a back rub. They were both fully clothed and chatted throughout. It was purely a friendly gesture, but her body reacted differently. As Jennifer rubbed, Clara's stomach began to flutter, and later when she undressed she noticed a damp patch on her underwear. She hadn't known quite what to make of it.
She began to look forward to Jennifer's little visits, and felt disappointed when she didn't show up. She began to pay more attention to her clothes and when Jennifer complimented her, why she felt wonderful. And then there were the hugs. She had never considered herself a "touchy-feely" person, and at first Jennifer's lack of inhibition overwhelmed her. But slowly she'd become used to Jennifer's freely given hugs, hand squeezes and cheek kisses. Now, she not only tolerated them, she enjoyed them and looked forward to them.
She wondered if Jennifer felt it too. At times she wondered if it was all in her head. Was Jennifer just being Jennifer? Was Clara having wildly inappropriate reactions to completely innocent friendly gestures? She could never quite figure it out. But recently, there had been moments where she thought Jennifer felt it too. A lingered gaze, a tighter hug, a kiss which brushed her lips on the way to her cheek.
It confused her. She had never thought about women sexually but here her body was reacting to Jennifer in a way it hadn't reacted to anybody -- including her husband -- for many years. She'd long given up any expectations of sexual pleasure. Sure, she'd played in her pre-marriage days. She'd even had fun with a girl once. But nothing ever felt even close to what some of her friends described, or what she read about in her novels.
