On the third morning, Regina was surprised the headmistress had not come to check on her. Or if she was truthful with herself, disappointed.
She’d half expected the older woman the night before. By the morning, she was sneaking glances around as she carried water and food, but there was no sign of Helen. She told herself it was for the best. Her back felt fine, and while she would be careful—at least her version of careful—for another couple days, she was grateful and happy to be back at work.
Grace appeared a quarter hour after classes began. “Is Helen out with a horse?”
Regina barely refrained from jerking in shock. “No. She isn’t at her desk?”
The assistant frowned. “I’ve yet to see her this morning. I know she worked late, but I thought she might be down here helping you.”
“Really? Doesn’t she usually start early?” Regina blurted out. In trying not to become alarmed, she hadn’t considered the fact that there was no good reason for her to know the headmistress’s schedule in such detail. She did not know anyone else’s work hours.
“Yes, actually. I have to get back so someone is covering the office. I’ll send someone to check her quarters.”
“No need. I can do it.” At Grace’s quizzical look, she tacked on a quick excuse. “You’ve both spent enough time helping me. I am happy to return the favor.”
Shrugging, the younger woman hurried off.
Regina sighed in relief that Grace had not questioned her familiarity with Helen’s preferences. Now she had an opportunity to verify Helen’s wellbeing like she so kindly had done for Regina. She shook her head and admitted the truth—she simply wanted to see Helen.
She strode purposefully toward the main hall. Grabbing a tray with a pot of tea, two cups, sugar, and milk, she took mincing steps toward Helen’s rooms. The items rattled with every step. A housemaid, she’d never be.
Heaving a sigh of relief at not spilling or dropping anything, she used an elbow to knock carefully.
And waited.
She knocked again.
Helen’s voice called, “Grace? Let yourself in, please, I can’t get up again just now.”
Daggers. How was she supposed to open the door whilst holding the infernal tray? Her respect for maids increased proportionately to her efforts to not drop the entire tea service.
Wrestling the tea tray to one forearm and hand with a little help from the doorframe, she bent at the knees to keep the tea from spilling and eased the door open.
A sitting room appeared, all clean and tidy with a settee the color of early peas, a paisley-patterned chair with similar tones, and a dark area rug between them. There was no sign of Helen.
Regina cleared her throat. “Helen? ’Tis Regina, not Grace. I, um, brought tea.”
“Regina?” Rustling sounds came from a second doorway behind the still-open door followed by a groan.
Regina jolted in alarm and decided it was in the best interests of Helen’s rug and her hands to put down the tea on a side table. Closing the outer door, she ventured closer to what she guessed was the bedroom.
“Thank you ever so much for the tea, Regina. I appreciate it. How is your back feeling?” Helen called out.
“Right as rain, Mistress, ta. Shall I pour?”
“Er, no. I’ll be a few minutes, and I don’t want to keep you from your day. Shall I visit the stable later perhaps?”
“Grace is concerned.” Regina had had enough of the headmistress’s prevarications. “Daggers, I am concerned. You never begin work this late. It would allay my worries greatly to see for myself that you are hale and healthy.”
A sigh emanated from the semi-dark room. “Therein lies the rub. I confess I am not as hale or hearty as I should be.”
Alarm propelled Regina to the bedroom. Helen lay prone in a chemise, the bed linens crumpled under her, her legs bare from the knee down.
“What is the matter, Helen?” She rushed over to the bed, not sure what she planned. Checking for a fever? For broken bones?
“Apparently going from zero exercise to riding for several hours is not recommended at my age.” Helen’s tone was disgruntled, and she was pouting.
Regina raised a hand to hide her grin.
“I can see your smile still, you know.” Helen’s brows dropped in a mock glare, before she flipped her hand against the bed. “I barely made it to bed last night, and I thought I’d be better today. But it’s worse!”
“I understand, and I beg your pardon. I feel as though my carelessness and back pain caused this.”
“No, no. This is someone—” she gestured vaguely upward. “—telling me I should be exercising more regularly to avoid this very situation.”
“Well, be that as it may, what can I do to help? Can you sit? Tea, perhaps? And moving slowly?”
“I started to dress, but even my fingers hurt. Perhaps you could help me with my stays and whatnot?”
Regina’s mind raced. Do I dare?
She could play it off as returning the favor. Helen had been matter-of-fact about her offer. But could she hide her feelings if she put her hands on Helen’s body?
“Regina?” Helen was watching her, head tilted. She’d been woolgathering too long.
“I was thinking, Mistress.” She used Helen’s title deliberately to remind herself she needed to proceed carefully, as her livelihood was in the balance. “Wouldn’t a rubdown with camphor oil help you as it did me?”
She held her breath waiting for Helen’s response. Helen might opt for Grace or someone else, anyway.
“What a splendid idea. George would be so pleased that his back pain would benefit both of us in some way. Would you be so kind?”
Oh my. Regina’s hands fluttered. She looked at them in disbelief. What on earth? She’d never been nervous, not even with the first girl she’d gotten naked. From the start, she’d known what she liked, and once she’d received permission to touch, she moved forward with alacrity.
Gathering her wits, she nodded. “Of course. I’ll pour you tea, then fetch the camphor oil and let Grace know you’re under the weather. Shall I say if she doesn’t see you in the office in an hour, she can come check on you?”
“Thank you, that would be lovely.”
Tea poured and doctored, she trotted out for the oil and galloped back, obsessing on where Helen was likely hurting and how to preserve a modicum of modesty and professionalism for them both. Panting, she knocked then entered Helen’s suite, going straight to the bedroom.
Where Helen lay under the sheet on her belly, her chemise on the floor beside the bed.
Regina’s breath whooshed out, and she grabbed for the bedpost.
“I hope you don’t mind. I thought this would be easier.” Helen mumbled against the pillow. After noticing the tightness of her clothes, then Regina’s fitness, she’d preferred to struggle out of the chemise without an audience. The sheet would also be easier to move out of the way for Regina.
“No, no. As you said, we are both women, our bodies are the same.” Regina’s voice was strangled.
“Exactly. Lud, I hope this works as well for me as it did for you and George. I can’t imagine sitting immobile in an office chair all day like this. Come. Sit or kneel, whatever makes sense.” Her hand patted the bed.
The mattress dipped. Regina stilled, one knee on the bed by Helen’s hip.
Helen could not see more detail from her prone position.
“Where does it hurt, Mistress?”
“You called me Helen the other night. I think perhaps when you’re going to be touching me without clothing, you could do that again?” The half of her mouth facing Regina curled in a smirk. “And my thighs, my back, my arms, my-er…that will help.”
“Your bottom?” Regina’s hands flexed in the corner of Helen’s sight.
“Well, yes, but I won’t ask you to—”
“’Tis quite all right. Anyone who rides knows how many muscles are in one’s posterior. If I am to do this, ’tis worth doing all of it.”
Helen caught the flick of Regina’s tongue over her lips. The poor woman must be more nervous than she’d realized. “’Tis not necessary. Whatever you are comfortable with.” But disappointment shot through her at the thought of Regina not touching her arse, surprising her. It hadn’t been a source of stimulation for her with George. Helen mentally stopped herself. Those thoughts were inappropriate.
The sheet was lifted away. Glass clinked as Regina removed the stopper from the vial, then the sound of repeated slicking told her that Regina was rubbing her oil-covered hands together. The smooth-over-rough warmth of her palms settled behind Helen’s knees. The friction had warmed the oil and created immediate relief, the callouses at the base of Regina’s fingers only hinted at beneath the camphor. The mattress dipped again, and Helen felt the drape of fabric over her calves and a slight rubbing along the outside of her legs. Regina was now straddling her.
Helen sighed with contentment at being under Regina’s care. Regina’s fingers tightened on her thigh muscles and dug in. Pain radiated from the spot and she yelped. Regina’s fingers continued to travel up and down her thighs and Helen tensed.
“This will help, I promise.” Regina’s voice was deeper, rougher than normal above her.
“Lud, I forgot how strong you are.”
“Shh. Deep breaths.”
Helen quieted.
Regina palpitated her thick thighs then slid upward. Her hands spanned the width of Helen’s thighs with her fingers wrapped around the outside. They came to rest cupping her ample bottom.
Self-consciousness about her size forgotten, Helen bit a moan back behind her lips.
A near-silent groan rumbled above her as fingers caressed the globes of her bottom.
Helen twitched. These were not the actions of a rubdown, they felt…reverent.
She bit back a moan. Her conscience kept whispering the word inappropriate, but the rushing of her blood drowned it out. Whatever this was, she may as well relax and enjoy it. She’d always accepted the tenet that sensual desire could happen between any two or more people, and from the start had ensured that the school was a safe place for both staff and students who wanted to explore that. Having only just discovered her own interest in intimacy was more fluid than she’d realized during her marriage, she would not run from learning more.
She released her moan into the room.
Regina froze. “Did I hurt you? I beg your pardon.”
“Oh, no, dear. It all feels wonderful.”
“Right, then. I was, er, spreading the oil around.” Regina’s fingers curled, and her knuckles drove into Helen’s squishy bottom cheeks.
“Oh,” came out on a sigh. There really were muscles under there somewhere.
“See?” The voice behind her held a smile. Regina’s weight leaned into Helen as she prodded her fists into particular knots. Her breath was as fractured as Helen’s.
After seconds or perhaps hours, the warm massage moved up her back, and Helen relaxed into it, moaning occasionally in response to muscles being loosened.
Regina’s final rubdown was to smooth her hands from Helen’s shoulders downward, her thumbs gliding gently on the muscles on either side of her spine. They remained together over her bottom, teasing the crack between her cheeks with the lightest of touches.
Helen’s breath caught, and she arched, pushing her bottom up a degree. Her eyes fluttered closed so she needn’t meet Regina’s undoubtedly questioning look, as her heart raced. What did she want? She wished she knew. Her feelings were new enough that she hadn’t had time to consider the logistics of intimacy with a woman—with this woman.
An answering gasp came from Regina and her hands slowed and tightened, dragging the lowest part of Helen’s bottom apart an inch.
Helen twitched, her hips still raised an inch.
They both froze for an eternity. Helen wanted to beg, hoping to explore this sudden sensitivity in her arse cheeks. She craved Regina’s touch between her thighs delving to find the part of her that didn’t need any oil, having created its own lubrication. But these feelings might be borne of loneliness, or physical attraction, while she and Regina might not be compatible outside of bed. Pursuing this any further without more reflection wouldn’t be fair to her stablemistress—her employee.
Regina recovered and smoothed her hands farther down Helen’s thighs before clambering off the bed.
“Remain still, I’ll wipe the excess oil off you so it doesn’t ruin your clothes.”
Helen drifted. Her bottom still felt those thumbs prying her open to Regina’s gaze. Her nipples had tightened and chafed against the bed linens.
Regina returned with a damp cloth, which she’d warmed. She wiped everywhere she’d stroked. With her large hands, she’d reached most of the way around Helen’s legs. But despite Helen waiting with bated breath, Regina did not brush the cloth up her inner thighs.
Instead, she stepped back and held the cloth out to Helen. “Here—” She cleared her throat. “—I think you can reach the rest. Do you need help sitting?”
Helen placed her hands by her shoulders and pushed up, swinging her legs gingerly toward the edge of the bed. She wasn’t pain-free but was far more mobile than she’d been.
Regina gasped yet again.
Helen’s gaze shot upward and found the stablemistress’s gaze riveted somewhere below her face. Glancing down, she saw why. Her nipples were still tight little buds, her breasts bare as she faced Regina.
Unwilling to contemplate whether her reaction was temperature or Regina-related, she swallowed through a tight throat and reached for her chemise, only to find her hand blocked by Regina’s.
“I beg your pardon,” Regina stammered, looking up from the chemise. As she’d squatted to get the garment, her gaze was now on a level with Helen’s breasts. She raised her head and licked her lips, unable to stop staring.
Right, then. Not temperature-related. This beautiful, brave, younger woman desires me. And I want her.
Their work relationship all but forgotten, Helen searched her memory for her long-dormant flirting skills. In those days, she had never led the progression of a relationship, though. In this case, she’d need to provide some signal to being open, as all Regina knew was that Helen had been married to a man.
Taking a deep breath, she found her inner headmistress lurking deep down and took control of the situation, as she’d trained herself to do these past years running the school.
“They’re not bad for over forty, are they?” She forced a light laugh while drawing the chemise over herself.
“They’re lovely,” burst from Regina before she pressed her lips together with a frown.
“Why thank you, my dear. Now, may I borrow an arm, in case standing does not go as well as sitting, please?”
In the end, she was at her desk within the hour, Regina having helped her dress although refusing to lace her as tightly as she usually wore her stays. Her fingers would only tolerate writing for short stints, but she was able to wade through most of her duties, even as her mind lingered on the strong and caring stablemistress.
* * * *
Regina was exhausted at the end of the day. The stable hand from the village had done most of the heavy lifting the day before, a relief given her preoccupation with her interaction with Helen that morning.
She’d spilled more water than she’d poured into troughs, her focus on her hands and the memory of Helen’s skin under them, rather than on what they carried.
Her fatigue was a result of her confusion more than extra trips for water, however. Had she seen desire in Helen’s eyes? Had she imagined the arch of Helen’s generous bottom under her grip or perhaps wished a reason for it which did not exist? Even the headmistress’s flirtatious-sounding comment as she dressed could have been nerves after not having been seen naked for years.
Her weariness might also stem from skipping breakfast to check on Helen and excusing herself for a brief “lunch” during which she ducked into her room to rub her swollen, needy flesh to a small explosion. While not satisfying, it at least took the edge off so she didn’t hurt herself with the manual labor of her position.
After the last chores were finished, she had a quarter hour until the supper bell. The stables were deserted, so she performed a quick check-in with her back muscles, because Helen would quiz her whether she was truly ready to ride again.
Lifting herself up with the edge of a stall half-wall, she stepped onto a mounting block that sat in the wide path between stalls for the smaller students. Swinging her right leg up as though to mount, she waited to see if the sharp pains of days ago would return. Her muscles were tight, but there was not even a twinge of pain. After stepping down, she raised one leg to the mounting block, leaned forward in a stretch over it, then did the same with the other. Finally, holding the top of the partition, she twisted and turned, not finding aches.
As she held a twist, a wet nose snuffled on her knuckles. “Hullo, piglet,” she said to Henrietta, the mare whose stall wall she’d borrowed. She’d chosen the name because it was more of a sow’s name in her mind, and this mare would eat grass until she’d make herself sick. Knowing she was searching for apple slices, Regina produced one and held her palm out for the horse to gobble happily.
She laughed and patted the mare before bending at the waist to touch her toes, doing one last stretch and check.
Hearing an intake of breath behind her, she shot to standing and whirled. Helen stood staring at where her bottom had been. As the headmistress’s gaze climbed to meet hers, Regina had the passing thought that if the whirl hadn’t hurt, she was ready for anything.
Helen’s deep brown gaze, with her pupils dilated, caused a different muscle to twinge. Her heart…with hope.