Page 73 of The Headmistress

“I think we should talk, Sam.” The words sounded strange, and Sam’s dazed-by-the-nudity mind didn’t quite catch them initially. When she finally caught up, her breath stilled for different reasons.

“Ah, maybe we shouldn’t talk about serious things while you are naked and in my lap. I think that puts me at a disadvantage…” The words came out slightly breathless, the skin-to-skin contact rendering Sam fairly useless at cogent thought.

“Let’s just say that I want to use every advantage I have, darling. I want every single ace up my sleeve for this conversation. If you think I will play fair, you’ll have to think again.” She lightly nipped at Sam’s ear, and Sam stopped thinking altogether. The wicked mouth moved lower, certainly leaving traces of red lipstick in its wake along Sam’s jaw before finally settling on Sam’s lips and going in for the kill.

“And I think I will need every one of those aces when I apologize to you, Sam. For letting Alden believe certain things about us. For allowing things to progress to the point of both of us having been put in front of a fait accompli. I should have taken you to the mainland and wined and dined you like you deserve. Wooed you. And then I should have properly asked you to move in with me. Instead, you got these plans for the cottage from Alden, and me rather gauchely accepting what this means from the hand of a man you have a very complicated history with. I am sorry, Sam. Forgive me?” Her fingers stilled in Sam’s hair, and for a moment the room was quiet but for the sounds of their breathing.

“You certainly don’t play fair, Madam Headmistress.” Sam smiled and watched the tension she hadn’t expected to find there drain from Magdalene’s face.

“Does this mean you will move in with me?” The strain might have eased from her features, but the voice was still tentative. The fact that Magdalene never took Sam’s love for granted was always a revelation.

“It does. Though, Reverend Lavalle might have something to say about us living in sin.”

Magdalene laughed, that low laughter setting Sam’s skin on fire.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to get naked again and ask you another question sometime soon, darling.”

“Ah, I see how it is, you don’t want to upset the good chaplain.” Sam nipped at the shoulder that was right in front of her, and her palms covered the beautiful breasts that it had taken all her effort not to touch during this conversation. Magdalene arched into her caress, trying to offer more of herself to Sam’s hands and mouth.

“Sam, I really don’t give a flying fuck about the good Reverend.”

“I love it when you revert to profanity.” Sam moved her lips higher, where the neck met the jaw, biting and licking, knowing how that spot aroused her lover. Her fingers pinched the already tightly furled nipples, and Magdalene let out a decidedly dirty moan. But before Sam could say anything, a hand to her face stopped her. Thumb caressing her cheekbone, Magdalene looked her dead in the eye.

“Sam, I love you, I will propose because I love you, not because I care what anyone says.”

“Ah, well… Yes, hmmm…”

“Incoherent. How I like you best. Now fuck me, Sam, I want you to, so much.”

Sam had not needed to be told twice.

* * *

And so she’d found herself with a new place to live and a new place to work. The notable year in the history of Three Dragons, finished with just ten seniors graduating, and the other two hundred students due to return next year. Sam felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment for shepherding these young women into the world despite all the hardship of the last months, the uncertainty, and the sheer amount of stress of the situation they’d found themselves in.

She’d had many reasons to come to this cliff in the past year, despite the fact that her life had settled into a routine and a rhythm that made her happy. Still, she felt restless tonight. Maybe because some of the issues remained largely unresolved. Alden was one and Orla was another. The former headmistress had submitted a letter of resignation the second George had been taken into custody. She’d been contrite and apologetic to both Sam and Magdalene. The proverbial ashes she poured over her hair were copious indeed.

Yet Magdalene had refused. Finding a new, experienced, and respected history teacher two-thirds into a semester to come in and live in tiny quarters and teach the remaining seniors in makeshift classrooms would have been complicated. And so Orla stayed and exorcised her guilt for being a gullible patsy to George’s obsession. And slowly Sam’s heart was starting to let go of the hurt and insult Orla had caused, but deep down she knew their relationship would never be the same.

But as Joanne had put it one late night over glasses of red wine, Sam didn’t owe Orla forgiveness, but if said forgiveness was to be given, the transgression should never be brought up again and everyone would need to move on. Otherwise, Orla would be apologizing for the rest of her life, and things would remain tedious for everyone involved. And, Joanne added, as soon as everyone understood that and learned to live with it, everyone would be much better off in the long run. Sam had agreed. She still had to utter the actual words, but their relationship had been patched up some, and Orla would occasionally join Joanne and Sam for their wine nights,disguised as tea drinking.

Still the remaining faculty, despite their trials and tribulations, had finished the colossal job of helping the seniors graduate. All ten seniors were accepted to various prestigious schools. Lily received the Vivian DeVor Scholarship for LGBTQIA Youth and chose to go to UCLA with Amanda, who followed her there with a full ride based on her excellence in math. Sam took a lot of pride in that achievement. She was also particularly happy that the girls would be together, even if their studies took them all the way across the country. Sam would find a way to keep in touch.

And speaking of touch, a furry head bumped into her flank before squeezing a rather pudgy body under her arm for a requisite scratch, then settled on the ground at her feet with a languid stretch.

Sam and Willoughby had established a rather nice cohabitation routine. He allowed her to pet him on occasion and did not object much when she monopolized his mistress’ time and attention. Which was a lot lately, since said mistress was rather completely enamored with Sam, a fact that was both entirely shocking and elating to Sam herself.

As had been the norm for the past year, Willoughby’s arrival heralded the slightly delayed, familiar sound of Magdalene’s steps on the rocks of Amber Cliff.

“You were so tired earlier. I looked for you at home, darling.”

Home. Sam turned away, unexpected hot tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill. She shook her head, trying to give herself enough time to will away the treacherous tears, but promptly lost the battle, sensing the first of them breaking through. Warm, soft hands touched her cheeks, wiping under her eyes before a gentle kiss was pressed to her temple, exactly where the long white line marred her skin before disappearing into her hairline.

“It’s okay to feel this way. It’s a lot of change, darling.”

“I don’t think I ever told you, but the day before your arrival at Dragons, I stood on this very cliff and wished for change, for something to give, for something to break free…”

Magdalene shifted slightly to accommodate Sam’s head on her shoulder.

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