Learning Curve Page 8

  At twenty-eight, Ash was only about five years older than the upperclassmen sitting in the various classrooms she passed, but she felt worlds away. The thought of sitting in one of the long rows of desks for hours on end while someone droned on at an overhead projector was beyond her comprehension. Then she thought of Carrie and couldn’t contain a grin. Maybe she would be able to focus on what a professor was saying if they all looked like the woman she was here to see.

  Carrie’s office was at the very end of a narrow offshoot of the main hall. Ash took a deep breath and knocked on the door, entering when she heard, “Come in.”

  Carrie sat at her desk, her silhouette framed by the afternoon sun shining through the blinds behind her. She gave Ash a tired smile and rolled her eyes in the direction of the phone she held a few inches from her ear.

  “You can hardly expect us to keep functioning at this level for much longer,” Carrie said.

  Ash waited in the doorway, shifting her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, wondering if she should step back outside. Carrie’s voice was strained, like she was fighting to sound polite.

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything, Gary. A majority of your students and entry-level professionals are women, but the administration is made up solely of men. If hiring trends don’t change soon, it won’t be long before this campus will look suspiciously like a harem.”

  Carrie winced as the voice on the other end of the line got louder. Ash couldn’t make out exactly what was being said.

  “No, I didn’t mean to imply any such thing.” Carrie gave a sharp intake of breath and bit at her nail. “No. Thank you very much for your time, Dean Phillips.”

  With that, she hung up and ran her hand through her curls, stopping to massage the base of her neck.

  “If this is a bad time, I could come back later,” Ash said.

  “No.” Carrie took her in, the clouds in her blue eyes lifting to reveal a hint of the sparkle Ash was used to seeing.

  Ash felt warm under her gaze. Carrie’s appraisal seemed more than casual, and Ash’s memory suddenly flashed yet again to that moment in Mary’s attic when they’d almost kissed. “Conversation with a jerk?” she asked, forcing herself present.

  “It’s a never-ending story in academia.”

  “Oh?” Ash asked, happy to listen to anything Carrie wanted to say.

  “I’m sure you get the same attitude from some people. A woman has to work twice as hard as a man to be taken seriously. For all the lip service they give to diversity, they still refuse to hire anyone who doesn’t fit nicely with their old boys’ club. They want professors who think like them and agree with their every idea. God forbid the status quo is challenged. It’s academic inbreeding at its finest.”

  “After that phone conversation, I don’t see how anyone could refuse to take you seriously.” At a heavy sigh from Carrie, Ash insisted, “Really, I’m not sure if I understood what you were arguing about, but I would have given you anything you wanted.”

  “You’re not a privileged, old, heterosexual male.”

  “I thank God for that every day.” Ash felt her heart beat faster as a full-fledged smile spread across Carrie’s face. That look of approval and amusement was enough to bring her to her knees. She was used to being the one who held the power in her interactions with women, but Carrie had turned the tables on her.

  “I suppose you never have to think about workplace politics,” Carrie said.

  “Yeah, I’m my own boss, and I have a pretty big client base now. Mostly women and gay men. I usually don’t have to work with anyone I don’t want to.”

  “That would be a dream come true. I envy you not having to answer to anyone but yourself.”

  Carrie’s appreciation seemed genuine, and her tone had taken on a hint of intimacy that wasn’t there before. She came around to the front of her desk and leaned against it with her arms folded loosely across her chest. She wore a pair of brown slacks with a black V-neck sweater. The outfit made her look both professional and approachable, the picture of poise. Her shoes had just enough of a heel on them to make her the same height as Ash, leaving her beautiful blue eyes level with Ash’s. Her proximity was enough to put Ash into sensory overload. Carrie was stunning, and it took every ounce of Ash’s energy not to reach out and touch her.

  “I don’t really see why you can’t have that,” Ash said. “You’re smart, attractive, and self-assured. What’s stopping you from doing whatever you want?”

  “It’s not that easy here. I don’t have tenure yet, and the big boys don’t want to give it to me. If I’m not picture perfect for the next year, I could lose my job.”

  “What do you mean, picture perfect? Being a good teacher?” Ash thought she would have stayed in school much longer if she’d had more teachers who could command her attention like Carrie did.

  Carrie let out a bitter sound that was probably meant to be a laugh. “Actually, that’s really what they care about least sometimes. I have to be beyond reproach. Academically flawless, with at least four major publications.”

  Ash grimaced. They were back on topics she knew nothing about, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Carrie would think less of her for that.

  “And that’s easy compared to categories such as service to the community, which can get pretty subjective. I sit on several university committees, though, so they’d have a hard time undermining that work. Still, none of it will make the slightest difference if I fall prey to the university’s moral turpitude clauses. It’s written so broadly that every aspect of my life can be scrutinized by the tenure committee.”

  Ash was beginning to put some of the pieces of the puzzle together. “So in other words, if you get a bad reputation for being unprofessional even in your personal life, they can bring that into work?”

  “Absolutely. I’m in charge of shaping America’s young minds.” The sarcasm in her voice was biting.

  Ash nodded solemnly as her heart began to sink. Carrie was a prisoner to her ambitions, and Ash’s reputation could put her in jeopardy of losing everything. “So that’s the famous liberalism I’ve heard of on college campuses.”

  “Well, at schools where women’s studies is still scattered across the curriculum rather than being centralized in its own department, we don’t answer to other women’s studies faculty. We answer to the different departments and ultimately to the dean of Art and Sciences.”

  “The guy you were yelling at?”

  “That would be he.” The corners of Carrie’s mouth turned slightly upward in a display of defiance that Ash found extremely sexy. “Oh, listen to me. You stop by about bookshelves and get an earful of department politics.”

  “I don’t mind.” Ash put her hand gently on Carrie’s shoulder. “I want to know what drives you, Carrie.”

  “Ash, I don’t know how to say this really.”

  She stalled for a moment and Ash sensed that hint of hesitancy again. When Carrie looked into her eyes, Ash could see she didn’t want to break the connection between them, but something was compelling her to do so nonetheless. Ash’s heart beat in her throat as she waited for what was coming.

  “Carrie doesn’t drive me, Dr. Fletcher does.”

  Ash took a step back as the implications of what she’d just heard began to set in. “And Dr. Fletcher wants tenure, is that it?”

  “Yes.” Carrie nodded slowly. “She does.”

  “Well, then.” Ash forced an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. “I guess you’re going to need room for a lot more books in here.”

  Carrie smiled at her, one of those smiles that made everything else disappear. “Thank you, Ash.”

  *

  Ash’s night was a restless one. She spent most of the evening selecting her lumber and preparing to build Carrie’s bookcase. She chose a deep red oak for its durability, so that the structure would stand the test of time, as well as for its color, which she thought would bring a soothing presence to the institutionally white office. Each board for the fr
ame was thickly cut so it would be heavy enough to anchor itself down. Then, to create a more uniform appearance, she took great care to make sure the oak’s cathedral grains in each slat were cut at a similar angle. She measured each plank several times, wanting to be exact, and then handled her circular saw with delicate precision, taking care that not a single splinter was jarred out of place. She wanted the finished product to be perfect, so each piece had to be flawless.

  It was well after midnight by the time she finally climbed into bed, but despite her physical exhaustion, thoughts of Carrie kept her awake. She tossed and turned for hours trying to find a way to reconcile her feelings with those Carrie had expressed earlier. She cursed herself for losing sleep over a woman. She was better than this. So Carrie had a job, who cared? Ash shook her head at the thought. This was exactly what Mary had been talking about. Ash was actually thinking of risking Carrie’s career for the sake of her libido. How selfish could she get?

  Yet although teaching obviously meant the world to Carrie, Ash could have sworn the desire she felt was not one-sided. Carrie wanted her, too. The sexual tension between them was too strong to be a figment of her imagination.

  Doubt began to creep into that theory sometime before dawn, but Ash still had confidence. She might not know jack about Judith Butler, but she knew more than her fair share about desire, and she was certain the attraction was mutual. All she had to do was find a way to make Carrie realize that it was okay to act on her desires. They could be discreet until they got each other out of their systems. As Ash fell asleep, she still hadn’t formulated a plan, but at least she felt like she was ready to try again.

  *

  “Well, you certainly look the part of the carpenter,” Carrie said when Ash arrived at her office Wednesday morning.

  “Thanks. I think.”

  Ash set down the stack of pre-cut shelves she’d hauled in with her. She was wearing well-worn denim painter pants over plaster-splattered work boots, and a tight white shirt covered by an unbuttoned and tattered long-sleeved flannel. She couldn’t help but feel underdressed compared to the sleek black pantsuit Carrie was wearing. It was tailored perfectly to show off her curves, and the deep blue button-up dress shirt she wore under the jacket set off the dazzling color of her eyes. Her soft brown curls were pulled back loosely in a clip, which allowed small silver hoops to dangle unobstructed from her earlobes. Ash was captivated once again by the beauty of the woman sitting across the desk from her, and while she struggled to think of some appropriate way to convey that to Carrie, her charm failed.

  Carrie glanced at the clock and rose from her desk, swinging a black satchel over her shoulder. “Well, I have classes all morning, so you can have the place to yourself.”

  Ash’s heart sank. She’d been looking forward to some time alone with Carrie, especially within the small confines of the office. “Okay, well, have a good time shaping America’s young minds,” she said, trying not to let her disappointment show.

  Carrie rolled her eyes, but Ash saw her mouth twitch slightly upward. Standing in front of the door, Ash felt like she should say something else, something smart, or funny, or cute. Anything, really. But in her indecision, she realized she was directly in Carrie’s way. She stepped slightly aside just as Carrie moved in the same direction. It only took a split second to realize what she’d done and she moved back the other way, but Carrie had done the same. They both laughed at their own awkwardness before Ash took a step back, completely out of the office, giving Carrie room to pass.

  “Thanks.” Carrie didn’t let her eyes meet Ash’s as she brushed past her out into the hallway.

  Ash wanted to start over and be her usual charming self. Instead, she felt inept once again. It was obvious that Carrie wasn’t her usual conquest. She had the power to unnerve Ash in a way that was more than physical. The sexual tension coursing through her body was accentuated by an emotional vulnerability Ash didn’t want to admit to. There had never been a woman who could make her try so hard to please, no one who could make her feel insecure about her ability to charm her way out of any situation. She was shocked by the power Carrie seemed to hold over her, but too intrigued to resist it.

  For the next hour or more, she worked herself silly. The office was a smaller space than she was used to, and she spent twice as long on each section, measuring two and three times before fitting any piece into place. She reasoned that she was just being professional and that she wasn’t dragging her feet in order to be around Carrie longer. At least when it came to carpentry, she knew what she was doing.

  “Wow.”

  Ash looked up sharply to find Carrie propped in the doorway. Her gaze followed the solid oaken frame that now stretched tightly from the floor to the ceiling with both its base and top sanded and shelved in.

  “I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten done.”

  Ash avoided explaining that she should be finishing up by now. Carrie obviously didn’t know how long it should take a professional to do a job like this. “I should be able to finish the bulk of the woodwork today. I’m busy tomorrow, but I can put the final touches on the woodwork on Friday. Hopefully, you’ll have your bookcase by the end of the week.”

  “That sounds great.” Carrie set her bag down and flopped in one of the chairs near the door. “But I’m leaving town on Friday, so I won’t be here to let you in.”

  “Oh.” Ash struggled not to show her disappointment. “Next week, then.”

  “Are you sure I’m not taking up too much of your time?”

  “Not at all.” Ash brushed sawdust off her pants and looked up just in time to catch Carrie watching her. She could have sworn she saw a hint of lust in her eyes, but Carrie quickly averted her gaze.

  Crossing to the window, she said, “It’s hot in here.”

  After giving the window a couple of sharp tugs, she exhaled heavily when it didn’t budge. Ash could tell she was flustered. Her knuckles turned white when she tried again, yet she didn’t ask for help.

  Ash strolled over and placed her arms on either side of Carrie. She took a deep breath of Carrie’s shampoo before whispering, “It might help if you did this first.”

  She reached up and deftly flipped the lock, and the glass slid up quickly under Carrie’s pressure, causing both of them to lose their balance slightly.

  Carrie turned around, blushing. “Guess which one of us has a Ph.D.”

  “Oh, there is no doubt in my mind which one of us is the professor and which one of us is around to open windows.” Ash leaned in closer so her body brushed against Carrie’s.

  “Ash…” Carrie started to pull away. She refused to make eye contact.

  “Hold on.” Ash took Carrie’s hands in her own, feeling a spark start in her fingertips and spread rapidly through her limbs. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What?” Carrie tilted her chin, finally allowing their eyes to meet.

  “I have absolutely no idea who Judith Butler is.”

  Carrie relaxed slightly, letting more of her body come into contact with Ash’s.

  “What?” Ash chuckled. “That wasn’t what you were expecting?”

  Carrie blushed and shook her head. “Actually, no. Judith Butler was the furthest thing from my mind.”

  “You were expecting me to do something more like this?” Ash slid one arm around Carrie’s waist and used her other hand to cup her face, gently pulling her in.

  Carrie was not the only one caught off balance as their lips met. Ash felt dizzy and held Carrie tightly to keep herself from stumbling. The kiss that had started with the softest caress picked up speed as Ash felt Carrie’s initial shock give way to hunger. Their lips parted and their tongues intertwined with a passion that went beyond anything Ash was used to from her many heated encounters. She was reaching up to run her hand though Carrie’s soft curls the way she’d wanted to since the moment she saw her when there was a knock on the office door.

  Ash spun around, and Carrie jumped out from behind her.
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br />   “Dr. Fletcher?” a woman called as the doorknob turned. “Are you coming to the meeting?”

  Her voice seemed familiar. “Ash?” The woman stood just inside the door, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

  When Ash failed to answer, Carrie said tensely, “Ash is building me some bookshelves, Rita.”

  “Oh.” Rita’s deep brown eyes swung back and forth between Ash and Carrie. “I didn’t know you were a carpenter.”

  “I didn’t know you were a professor.” Ash wanted desperately to sound nonchalant. Carrie had probably figured out what had transpired between her and Rita already.

  “I’m not,” Rita answered slowly. “I’m a student. Dr. Fletcher is my advisor.”

  *

  The only thing Carrie heard was the sound of her own pulse still beating erratically from the feel of Ash’s kiss.

  “We need to start working on the logistics for our annual Take Back The Night rally,” Rita said, bringing the meeting to order. “We have to reserve the space on the quad and rent a sound system.”

  Carrie served as the faculty advisor for the executive board of the Feminist Majority Leadership Alliance. They met weekly to discuss meetings topics for their general membership and to plan campus-wide events. It was a part of her job Carrie usually looked forward to because it meant spending time with bright, motivated young women, and it gave her a chance to develop a mentor relationship with each of them. The FMLA students turned to her for advice and guidance in situations both at school and in their personal lives, and they often stayed in contact with her well after they graduated.