"'Achy Breaky Heart' sends you into hysterics? Just wait until they play the Macarena."

Rosalind collapsed again into her jacket, helpless with laughter. Taryn shrugged.

There was a jangle of chain, a rush of footsteps. A dark form bounded out of the trees and headed right for them. Taryn pushed Rosalind behind her and balanced on her toes, instinctively. It was a dog, Taryn saw, when it danced through the light coming from the reception. A chocolate Labrador, springing and cavorting around them, wriggling with pure happiness. In its mouth it had a huge stick, and it grinned crazily around it. The dog ran forward, nosed Taryn's outstretched hand, wagging its tail frantically.

"He just wants to show you his stick." A voice came out of the darkness between the trees. Taryn looked and saw a black wool coat, short brown hair, gla.s.ses, and a broad, handsome face. The woman looked at Taryn, her eyes staying a few seconds longer than necessary. A small smile appeared, out of nowhere, and she nodded. She whistled, and the dog exploded away from Taryn, back to her side. "Sorry to interrupt." She walked off down the path around the lake, taking the stick from the dog's mouth and throwing it for him. "C'mon, Grizzly."

"Good thing you were there to protect me," Rosalind said, from behind Taryn's shoulder.

Muscles still twitching from the fighting instinct, Taryn flexed her arms. "Hey, if that had been a Dalmatian, I'd have had him." She turned and faced Rosalind, holding out her arm. "Come home with me?"

Rosalind raised her head and smiled, letting that be her answer.

Chapter Six.

Rosalind drove very carefully on the way back to 34 Mariner, convinced that Taryn's hand resting lazily on her thigh was not a very good idea. Oh, it was a good idea for her thigh, which enthusiastically endorsed the slow caress of Taryn's fingertips, but her brain had sense enough to recognize when her body wasn't anywhere near engaged in driving. When Taryn's fingers dipped to her inner thigh, Rosalind drew in a sharp breath and swerved hard to the right, nearly clipping a parking meter.

"If you keep that up, I'll owe the City of Buffalo a fortune to replace all the meters I'm going to plow over."

Taryn grinned and kept her hand right were it was. Rosalind filed that away under Taryn Response: Can't refuse a challenge. It was infuriating and very enticing. It kept Rosalind completely distracted as she turned down Mariner. Her mind cavorted about, seeking a way to divert the girl without actually putting her off. If she could manage to park before that motion made her jump into Taryn's lap...

"I got a call from my brother today. He's going to be in town with his girlfriend tomorrow night and wants to have dinner. Would you like to go?" Rosalind asked, trying to keep the catch out of her voice. Taryn's fingers had wandered again. The question stopped the hand, which was not exactly what Rosalind had wanted.

"Go out to dinner with you and your brother?" she asked, as if this were absurd.

"Yes. I'd like him to meet you."

Taryn's eyebrows climbed up together. "You would?"

"Sure, honey. You want me to be your girl, right?" Rosalind asked with a sweet smile.

"You know I do." The hand started moving again.

"Then I get to show you off. The handsomest butch in Buffalo, on my arm."

"I'm...not much good with families," Taryn admitted with a rueful smile.

"Eric's harmless. I want you to meet him and Sandhya. And I want them to get a chance to meet the person I love," Rosalind said, looking at Taryn.

She sat very still, her hand frozen. "You keep saying that so easily. You really mean it, don't you." It was a statement, not a question, and spoken in a voice of wonder.

"You know I do, baby. It's a wonder I didn't say it before." Rosalind pulled the car up in front of 34 Mariner, not really looking at anything but Taryn's face.

Taryn leaned forward and kissed her reverently. "Okay. I'll do dinner with your brother and his girlfriend," she said, her face inches from Rosalind's.

Loud clapping interrupted them. Rosalind raised her eyes to the porch, where a full contingent of people was watching them and applauding. Joe even stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

"What's going on?" she asked Taryn, who had the most annoyed look on her face she'd ever seen.

Taryn groaned and set her head in her hands. "The Better You than Me. I forgot all about it. Guess I was thinking about something else tonight. We've been spotted. We'll have to go in."

"What in the world is a Better You than Me?" Rosalind whispered, but Taryn didn't have a chance to answer. A teenage girl skipped off the stairs and flew at the car. Taryn got out and was nearly knocked down by Goblin, who grabbed her in a swinging hug.

"You're all dressed up! Did you do a show tonight?" Goblin asked, hauling Taryn around in a circle.

"Nah. I had a date," Taryn said, putting her arm over Goblin's shoulders.

Rosalind got out of the car, and Joe whistled again. "The kids are back from the prom!" he called out, grinning. He was leaning against the rail, his arm around Rhea's waist. Rhea had her arms folded, her head tilted to the side, watching Rosalind very closely. There was something in her Rosalind couldn't read, not a warning exactly, but a distance. She looked like she was sizing Rosalind up all over again, but from a different angle this time. Rosalind's dress felt very short suddenly, when she saw Rhea's eyes fix on it. But it wasn't condemnation coming from the fierce woman now, rather a sort of interest, as they approached the porch. Rhea took in Taryn's arm closing around Rosalind's waist, the way the professor moved automatically closer to her. Her face became unreadable, as Goblin hauled them to the steps.

"Everybody, this is Rosalind. Rosalind, this is Goblin. Laurel, you know Egyptia, Joe, and Rhea. That's Irene and Garnet," Taryn said, sweeping her hand toward the crowd. Rosalind looked them over one at a time, to get a sense of them.

Goblin had Taryn's other arm and used it to pull Taryn up the steps. She was tall, and thin, and wore an Ani DiFranco T-shirt with a pair of jeans. Her brown hair was braided, her eyes circled by wire-rimmed gla.s.ses. She grinned at Rosalind as she took charge of their progress, acknowledging Taryn's arm around the professor's waist. "You must be special to get Taryn to dress up on a weeknight."

Seated on the step was a young woman in a paisley shirt, her long, white-blond hair falling in her eyes. She looked red faced, as if she'd been crying, but flashed a smile at Taryn, then at Rosalind. The professor added the name to the image. Laurel, the other housemate. She wondered what she had been crying about.

Egyptia sat behind her, combing the white-blond hair though graceful fingers. Rosalind recognized the emerald eyes, the perfectly smooth chocolate skin, but without the platinum wig and makeup, Egyptia looked different. Less mythic, more on a human scale. She smiled in recognition, perfect dimples carving into her cheeks. "Hey, girl."

The other two women were in their late thirties, Rosalind guessed, and stood on the porch next to Rhea and Joe. Irene was the shorter of the two, and heavy, with close-cropped brown hair threaded with gray. She wore a T-shirt with a vest over it, jeans and boots, and stood with her thumbs hooked into the pockets. Garnet was as tall as Joe and wore enameled earrings that showed through her light brown hair. Her blouse was a cream silk, open over a series of G.o.ddess charms and necklaces. She wore a pair of lavender drawstring pants and sandals. They both nodded to her, almost in unison.

Then there was Rhea. The dress she wore was a blue that matched the shade of Taryn's eyes, embroidered with sunflowers. Joe's arm around her waist was the only acknowledgment she made of the people near her, her stance seeming to be that of a woman alone in the s.p.a.ce. She held her weight on one hip, her slender body an exclamation point even in repose. It was a complement to the easy, muscular form of the man next to her, but not an extension of it, even with the contact between them.

Joe's immediate smile spoke of genuine pleasure at having them back. It was unsettling to see the openness of his welcome, next to the unreadable but seething emotion coming from Rhea. Rosalind wasn't sure what to make of it and tucked herself under Taryn's arm. The motion caught Rhea's eye, and, for a moment, Rosalind could have sworn she saw approval. It was gone as quickly as it came, so she couldn't be sure.

"We're almost done with the storytelling. You have to pay the ferryman to get by, T," Egyptia said, barring their way up the steps. Taryn sighed dramatically, but nodded.

Joe addressed Rosalind. "We're having a Better You than Me. Old house tradition, whenever life kicks you in the teeth. Laurel's girlfriend dumped her, so we're dedicating tonight to her."

"Everyone has to tell an embarra.s.sing, painful, or funny story, and it has to be true. The goal is to get everyone to say better you than me. Make the person who's suffering feel better. Gallows humor as sympathetic magic," Taryn said to her. "We won't get by if we don't contribute."

"You wouldn't want to break the circle and diffuse the power, Taryn," Rhea said quietly.

"Of course not." Taryn smiled at Laurel. "She wasn't good enough for you anyway. Swim team, what kind of c.r.a.p is that? You can get a basketball player in two snaps, if you want a jock."

"Thanks, T," Laurel said, tearing up.

"Whoa, none of that. I'll go, to keep the energy moving." She carefully helped Rosalind sit on the step next to Egyptia, then took her stance like the porch was a stage. From the way that everyone responded to her, immediately giving over wholehearted attention, it might well have been, Rosalind thought. As much as she wanted to haul Taryn upstairs, it was a delight to watch her with her family, as Rosalind thought of her housemates. It showed the tender side of her that didn't often come out.

"All right. One I haven't used yet, a powerful one, to dispel Laurel's misery. Ah! I was in the mall. I stopped in the bathroom. It was pouring down rain outside. I'd taken the bus, so I was soaked to the skin from crossing Walden Avenue. Right where that girl got killed, you know? I had on my army jacket and a pair of boots, normal stuff, and was slicked down, leaving puddles when I walked. Must have looked like a drowned cat. I walked past this housewife. Orchard Park written all over her. Suburbs! Flower plastic raincoat.

"She gasped when I went in the doors, but I didn't think anything of it. When I was coming out, a security guard grabbed me in a half nelson and wrestled me to the floor. I didn't know what the h.e.l.l was going on, so I fought. The jerk got his knee in my back, slammed my head against the marble floor until I stopped struggling. He hauls me to my feet. I'm bleeding all over, and he slaps cuffs on me and muscles me to the mall office. Seems the housewife reported a guy going into the women's room. I didn't have any ID on me. When they told me what was up, I told them they were stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, and I was a girl.

"Jerkoff told me to prove it. I told him to go f.u.c.k himself. Told him I was going to sue his a.s.s, sue the mall. He grabbed my crotch and got this look on his face, like he couldn't decide if he should apologize or spit. I helped him decide by kicking him in the groin. Mall management let me go. I was already bleeding and had a h.e.l.l of a temper on. Rhea called a lawyer, but I didn't have any witnesses, and I had fought back. He told us to drop it, so we did," Taryn finished, looking at her audience.

The group responded as a chorus, "Better you than me!"

Rosalind saw Taryn's eyes seek her out first. She said I love you, without moving her lips.

Laurel shook her head. "That sucks. Thanks, T."

"Anytime," Taryn said with a grin.

"Okay. Your turn, Rosalind," Goblin said, looking at the professor.

"All right," Rosalind said, thinking back. The household seemed to take the storytelling ritual with a sense of humor, but seriously as well. It wasn't just a party, or a gripe session; they were working magic. Rosalind cast an eye at Rhea, who had gone still as a stone, watching her from the side of her dark eyes. Is she looking to see if I'll disrespect the ritual, make a fool of myself, or shame Taryn? Rosalind had no intention of disrupting the emotion even she could feel gathered on the porch.

I may not be a witch, but I understand the magic of language, how stories change the world. She looked back at Rhea. Taryn had managed to tell a horrible tale with a shrug and a grin. The pain was there, acknowledged, but not submitted to. Rosalind took her cue from that and silently gave thanks to six years of Shakespeare in the Park. Taryn's eyes hadn't left her. She wanted to show that she understood the dispelling of pain by sharing it, making it communal, that she could fit into Taryn's world.

"I grew up outside of Poughkeepsie, down the street from the Methodist church. Mom was a Catholic when she married Dad, Dad was an atheist. So we compromised and went to the church the closest walking distance to the house. I was in the third grade. They had this huge Christmas tree in the church, right up by the pulpit. It was decorated with gold bells, white snow wreaths, gold-painted Styrofoam cubes with Greek letters on them. But the best thing was the snakes. They were made of rope, spray painted gold, with gold sequins glued on for scales. They had red plastic gems for eyes that would catch the light and look like they were alive. They were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"So I took one. While everyone else was in the parsonage for coffee fellowship, I snuck back into the church, unwound a snake from the branch, and stuffed it down the arm of my winter coat. I took it to the woods behind my house and wrapped it around the highest branch of the dogwood tree that I could reach. I would go visit it after school every day and made my brother Eric stay away. I knew he would tell my mother. I figured that since it came from a tree in church, it was a holy object. And it was sacred, I could tell, because it was beautiful. So I prayed to it. My mother started wondering where I went every afternoon, so she followed me into the woods. She came on me praying to the snake in the dogwood. She just stood there looking at me, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Whatever she had thought I was doing, playing with matches, playing with myself, would have been better. She didn't say a word. She just took the snake off the branch and walked back to the house. I followed her. She sat down at the kitchen table, resting her head on one hand. 'Whatever you were doing, I don't want to hear about it. You will never do it again. And you will never tell anyone you did it,' and I got grounded for a month. It made me scared that I'd done something so horrible, my mother couldn't even put words to it. I lost my sense of G.o.d. And I never saw the snake again."

Silence greeted the story, then Joe shook his head.

The group joined in with him in their chorus, "Better you than me!" It was like winning the Academy Award, like the n.o.bel Prize. Rosalind knew she'd been accepted into the circle, added to the magic.

Taryn looked at her with pride, fairly radiating it. "Okay. We paid the ferryman. We're heading up," she said, holding out her hand to Rosalind.

"Night, kids," Joe said with a smirk.

Rosalind found that she didn't mind walking past the group, hand in hand with Taryn, when everyone knew they were going upstairs to make love. The openness of it precluded shame. It made her feel bold. "Night, Papa. Don't wait up," Rosalind said, grinning.

Joe laughed out loud, and Egyptia sent a "You go, girl!" up the stairs after them.

In Taryn's room, Rosalind felt high as a kite. Though the house was full of people, though the ceremony and party might well last through the night, she didn't want to go back to her empty apartment. This house, she was starting to understand, had a feel to it, a life, a running of joy along the veins. Energy, Rhea would say, like it had been built on a powerful spot or become one through ritual and inhabitance. She knew it was starting to get to her. She could feel the difference when crossing the threshold. It was Taryn's home. She couldn't think of a better place to be welcomed into her body, as she had been into her life. Rosalind was determined. Taryn would be her lover tonight.

Taryn eased up to her, wrapping arms around her from behind and resting her head against Rosalind's. "You feel good," she murmured into Rosalind's ear.

"So do you, baby. I like it when you hold me like this. I feel safe," Rosalind admitted, stroking Taryn's hand.

"Have I ever held you like this?"

"No...I suppose not. It feels so familiar, somehow." Rosalind cudgeled her brain, wondering where that thought had come from. All she could find was the sense of familiarity and ease, or perfect connection, when Taryn took her in her arms. It made no sense, but it was too sweet to be argued with. This is how love must feel. I've just never been here before.

"You know, no one's ever attached the word 'safe' to me before," Taryn said, her teeth closing playfully on Rosalind's ear.

The professor shivered and arched her neck. "You should think about changing your reputation. You're really a big teddy bear, not the Defiler of Maidens that you pa.s.s yourself off to be."

"Defiler of Maidens? Oh, I like that," Taryn said in a low voice.

Rosalind turned and put her arms around Taryn's neck, rubbing the back of her head. Taryn was arrogant, and impossible, and infuriating, and just so d.a.m.ned handsome it hurt.

"What's that look for?" Taryn asked her, c.o.c.king an eyebrow.

"You. I was wondering how I made it this long without meeting you. I know we were supposed to meet sooner." It was the energy of the house, partaking in the ritual of storytelling that was making her think like this, Rosalind knew. She didn't talk like this. But standing there, looking into the face of the girl who held her, she thought about the story she'd told about the snake. It was beautiful in a way that she knew was sacred. It was the last moment she remembered feeling sure about G.o.d, or G.o.ds, in her life.

Rosalind looked into the burning eyes of Taryn and felt that certainty return, knew the same truth she'd learned and forgotten in third grade. What was sacred was beautiful, and being in Taryn's arms was beautiful. She might never convince her Catholic mother or atheist father, but she was looking into the face of the divine and caught it looking back at her.

"Rhea says I was born late, a decade or so. She told me, when we stopped being lovers, that she was meant to be my mother this time around, but I refused to come back, to get born. She had to settle for other ways to be close to me. She still gives me h.e.l.l for being late for everything, says it's just me being stubborn from my last life. If you and I had met any sooner, I'd be jailbait and you'd be arrested." Taryn's lips quirked up in a smile.

"You're in time enough for me. But I'm glad you didn't wait another few years. I might not have survived it without you. It was getting cold out there." The words were out before Rosalind examined them.

"I waited for you. I had to know you'd be here," Taryn said in response, her voice as naked as Rosalind's had been. The implication was too much for both of them, so they shied away from it, falling into the physical connection they shared, joining their bodies. It was sweet, and easier to handle, the way their bodies spoke to one another. That language would be enough for them, for this night.

Rosalind loosened Taryn's tie, slipped the jacket off her broad shoulders. The streetlight showed her the glow of the drag king's dress shirt, the knot of her green silk tie half undone, her hair too short to be mussed the way it was the night they met, but that didn't keep Rosalind from trying. Her hands were roaming over Taryn, hungry for her but not ready to rip her clothes off yet. She was enjoying undressing her, prying her out of her suit one b.u.t.ton at a time. It was playful, it was arousing, the way Taryn accepted the game and waited as Rosalind explored her, unb.u.t.toning her shirt, drawing off her tie. This was Rosalind's night.

The tie found its way to the floor, following the suit coat. Rosalind smoothed her hands across the front of the shirt, feeling the binding Taryn used. She pulled the shirt out of Taryn's pants, opening her belt to do it easily. Taryn obligingly raised her arms and held them out as Rosalind drew the shirt down off her shoulders. Impulse made her leave it halfway down her arms, trapping them. She didn't want Taryn getting away.

She saw the ace bandages Taryn used to bind her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, wound tightly from her rib cage to her armpits. She touched the clawed metal clasps, wanting to undo them, but not sure how Taryn might react. She risked a glance at Taryn's face and found only encouragement there.

"It's okay," Taryn said, reading her look and her intent.

The permission was all she needed. Rosalind took the clasps off, setting them aside. She could picture herself stepping on one in the heat of pa.s.sion and nearly giggled. It was like unwrapping a mummy, taking the bandages off Taryn, but the flesh underneath was warm and alive. She'd seen her naked to the waist before, but there was something wicked about unwrapping her like a Christmas present that appealed to Rosalind. The surprise of finding a girl's body under the suit, sheathed with muscle under smooth skin, but still a girl, sent a jolt from the base of her spine up to her heart. It was that tension between seeming opposites that was so arousing, the beauty of Taryn unique in its form. My Ganymede. She took Taryn's b.r.e.a.s.t.s in her hands and bent her head to them.

Taryn groaned and arched her back, bracing her legs wide to keep on standing. Rosalind was gentle and insistent in her exploration, the level of comfort she felt amazing for her first foray. She had done this before, she had to have. It was too familiar, the taste of the flesh, the way she tried not to make any noise but did anyway, small sounds in her throat. Rosalind reached down and grabbed Taryn's a.s.s, digging her fingers into the muscle. Taryn pressed her hips against Rosalind, the metal of her belt buckle getting snagged on Rosalind's dress. Rosalind responded by grabbing the belt and pulling it out of the loops, tossing it to the floor without ceremony.

She took Taryn's pants and eased them down over her hips, but left her boxer shorts in place. It took a moment of gentle insistence on Rosalind's part, but Taryn finally kicked the pants off and lay down on the bed, reclining like the statue of a young G.o.d. It didn't make any sense to be in her clothes when she wanted to feel Taryn's skin against her, so Rosalind knelt and gave her back to Taryn. Taryn obligingly unzipped her dress, then lay back down, head propped on her arm. She watched as Rosalind took the dress off, inhaling sharply when the professor raised it over her head.

Rosalind stopped when Taryn made the sound and looked at her, concerned. Was something wrong? The look on her face was like music and wine, like the first signs of spring after the months of snowed-in death sleep. It melted her. She had to sit down on the mattress; her knees refused to hold her up. Here she was trying to seduce this girl, and she was slain by one small noise of appreciation. Taryn sat up and kissed her, drawing Rosalind back down on top of her. Her brain wasn't firing on all synapses, drowning in the sensations this girl drew forth without effort. Rosalind remembered her determination and pulled away.

She ran her hands over Taryn's face, down her neck, across the tattoo of Alexander on her right bicep. She wanted to make this girl feel the way she felt and didn't know if that was even possible. She'd never been s.e.xually confident, but had never had occasion to mourn the lack. Men were easy. It was a shame to admit it, but they bored her silly; her husband had, in any event. Not that he didn't try, but it always felt like that, trying. She'd never swooned in his arms, never felt carried away. Taryn just looked at her, and breathing was difficult.

Rosalind stroked the face of Alexander, the winged lion on her right thigh, and wondered how much of this was love, how much of it was s.e.xual frenzy. She wanted Taryn so much it hurt. She wanted to bring her shuddering into her arms, to have her desperate and undone, the way she felt. She'd never really cared that much how Paul felt about it. With Taryn, it was vitally important that she know it was her, Rosalind, doing this to her, making her feel this way. She scratched her nails across the back of Taryn's neck and she moaned.

"Yes, baby. Let me hear you," Rosalind said, loving the sound of Taryn's voice in pleasure.

"You're killing me."

She pressed back down on top of Taryn, bringing her whole body back into contact. It wasn't enough to stop and think about what she was doing. Her body was surging with response; every time Taryn moved, or sighed, it went right into her blood. She couldn't separate herself enough to launch a campaign of careful seduction. She pressed her hips against the girl's closed thighs, kissed her mouth like the only air left in the world might come from Taryn. She cried out against her open mouth when she felt Taryn's arms close around her. She had wanted to be careful, and delicate, but she was eating her alive. "Take these off, honey," Rosalind said, hooking her hand into the boxers.

Taryn froze. Her face, her body, all movement ceased. Rosalind raised l.u.s.t-filled eyes to Taryn's face and found panic there. "I don't...I mean, it's not..."

Rosalind took her hand away and Taryn started breathing again. The look of panic didn't fade, it just receded. It was too much for Rosalind, seeing the pain being pushed down. She took Taryn's arms and drew her in, pressing Taryn's head to her breast. "It's okay, baby. It's all right. I'd never hurt you."

Rosalind followed her instincts and held her close, crooning to her. She felt Taryn's body relax in stages, the masked trembling reduce to a stillness. She could almost feel her gather herself, pushing the air out of her lungs. The tension remained in her back and arms, muscles bunched up like startled cats, thrumming with adrenaline. Rosalind felt Taryn shift, felt her raise herself up on her arms and was sure Taryn was going to push away. When she sighed and cuddled closer, Rosalind's heart nearly burst out of her ribs. She had never experienced anything like the fierce tenderness she felt, the desire to protect and cherish this girl lying in her arms. She felt ten feet tall, with the way Taryn surrendered her pain and accepted the comforting. She had no idea how rare that moment was.

Rosalind started singing. That halted all attempts at flight; the very uniqueness of being sung to kept Taryn there, in Rosalind's embrace, long enough for her guard to drop.

It was a song Rosalind's mother used to sing to her, when she couldn't sleep. Rosalind kissed her neck as she sang, and Taryn laughed.

"The bushel and the peck sound familiar. But I thought it was a hug around the neck," she said, her lips against Rosalind's breast.