Chapter Six – Dancer

"How old were you, when you started dancing?" Spencer rested one hand on her knee, the other along the back edge of the settee. Susan was so close, the scent of her hair smelled good, but he still had difficulty identifying it; citrus… and something.

"I was four, the youngest in my mother's ballet class that year. "Beginning ballet is learning proper posture, basic moves, and positions. My mom was a strict teacher, not giving me—or any of the other girls—preferential treatment. There was no goofing off in class. I loved dancing for her and worked hard, as her other students did." Susan clarified, "My parents gave us unconditional love and raised us with solid work ethics, not to be defined by the family money and not to work for praise, but to do, and be our best. One of my dad's favorite quotes, by George Hyde Preston, 'If you're going to be a bear, be a grizzly.' I asked Dad what that meant when I was 7, and he said I should figure it out on my own."

Spencer thought about it, and asked, "And did you? Figure it out, I mean, uh… not be a grizzly… obviously." He chuckled.

She smiled thoughtfully and nodded. "Oh, yeah. If you're going to do something, go big… go all out. I was 15, when I decided instead of going for a bachelor's in Psychology, to go for a doctorate, instead. Besides being direct, I'm a jump in the deep end and figure out how to swim later kind of person." She shrugged, still smiling. "Haven't drowned yet."

"Hmm." He smiled as he thought how nice it would be to kiss her again, but he was listening to her.

"Integrity was important to my parents. I remember once, I couldn't have been older than three, my mother had baked these heavenly Lemon Sugar cookies. After they cooled, I asked to have one as she put them in the cookie jar on the counter. She told me I could…later." Susan grinned. "Okay, so 'later' to a 3-year-old is a very… mmm… fluid term... " Spencer nodded, sensing where the story was headed, as she went on. "…Mom walked out of the kitchen and I had figured out by opening the drawers, I could climb on them, like a stepladder. She came back a few minutes later and there I was, eating a cookie…after I climbed down and closed the drawers. Mom asked if my father or brother had given it to me and I told her the truth, that I got it myself. She couldn't figure out how I did it and told me, 'I said you could have a cookie later and I told her, it was later when I got one'."

"Is that when she figured out how bright you were?"

"I think so. She said I was very direct, even as a child. So, she sat me on the counter and hugged me, said she wasn't angry since I told her the truth and she wasn't specific about the time. She and my dad used that, and other incidents like that, to teach my brother and me, besides being good examples. My parents didn't spank us. They believed reason and logic worked better than spanking, or threats of violence."

"Your parents must have been very special."

"Oh, they were. My mom used to tell me someday I would have kids who would continually surprise and delight me. I think that was the mom way of telling me 'Wait until you have children of your own'. Maybe one day." She shrugged, saying very quietly, "I mean… I'd like to… have kids…" and trailed off.

"I'm sure you'd be a great mother." He slid his fingers along her jaw, to her chin, and kissed her again. She shuddered against him, leaning into the kiss and closing her eyes. The kiss was intense and exciting, but he wanted more, not sure how long he could trust himself to hold back.

Susan pulled away slowly, wide-eyed, breathing harder. "Would you like a drink? I sure could use one… it's warm in here."

"Sure. Water is fine, thank you. I need to…use your bathroom?"

Susan pointed to the door across the foyer from the front door. On her way back from the bathroom in the first-floor master suite, she stopped in the kitchen to start the coffeemaker, since her friend Lizette usually stopped by before class, filled two glasses with ice and water, and found him on the sofa in the living room. Handing him a glass, she sat down next to him and drank half of hers, holding it in both her hands.

Spencer took a long drink and set the glass on a crocheted coaster on the coffee table. "Thank you. So… you… were rehearsing before coming to the lecture…did you ever consider becoming a professional ballet dancer?"

"I thought I did. After graduating from high school, I told my mother I wanted to take time off before starting college, to see if I had what it took. My father wanted me to pursue something that made me happy. I missed him." She shook her head. "I wasn't handling his death well, moping around. Sometimes it still feels like I'm not…" Susan sat still for a moment, took a deep breath, then another. She set her glass on another coaster on the coffee table and laced her fingers in her lap. "Anyway, Mom agreed. Since her classes were Beginner to Intermediate, my aunt suggested the new dance school where my cousin Janelle was going, in the Advanced Intermediate class. Lizette and I started late…we took nearly a month off after Dad died..."

As he listened, Spencer wondered how Susan went from dancing to working on her doctorate in Psychology in two years.

"… the classes were taught by Alexei Ivanov, and his sister, Tasha, two dancers originally from the Soviet Union. Alexei put Lizette was in the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes, since Janelle was already in the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday classes and he put me in the Monday through Saturday classes. He said I needed the most work, even though I had been dancing en pointe and the others in the class were beginning to."

"That's up on the toes… right?"

"Mm-hmm." She stopped and took another drink before going on. Her voice seemed sad, almost detached. "The other girls got to take the elevator to the dance studio on the 4th-floor, but not me. Alexei told me I had to take the stairs, that I was too short and fat to ever be a professional dancer and would probably never even be a good dancer. Back then I was five-three and barely over a hundred pounds fully clothed—around the time I was going through puberty, but nowhere near fat. Now I'm not the type to get angry, but when someone says I can't do something, I'll work twice as hard to prove them wrong. That's both a strength and a weakness, I suppose... " Her voice trailed off as she straightened out the hem of her dress.

"I'm like that, too, I collected college degrees, trying to prove a point to my absent father. Oh, sorry. Please… go on."

"Feel free to jump in anytime. I keep hogging the conversation." Susan met Spencer's eyes, and he tilted his head as if to reiterate. "Okay. So, for three months, I worked hard on my dancing. On days Lizette was in class, we'd go down the stairs together and take the bus home. On the other days, I went alone since Janelle wouldn't wait for me. She'd take a cab home. My weight dropped to eighty-seven pounds and the curves I had started developing were gone. I looked like I did when I was nine when I started high school; flat and thin, only a little taller. That's when he started praising my dancing, saying now I looked like a beautiful dancer. It was on a Tuesday after Tasha went upstairs to her apartment. Janelle and the other girls had changed their shoes and were on their way out to the elevator, as I went to change mine. After dancing six days a week for three months, I was sick of dancing, tired of taking the stairs, my feet constantly hurt, and I hated being so thin. Alexei handed me a pair of ruby red pointe shoes, asked me to stay, put them on and dance for him. I told him no, I was tired and wanted to go home. But he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. I pushed him away, kept telling him no, but he wouldn't listen and the more I resisted, the more excited he became... " Susan's voice wavered as her brows drew together.

"Did he…" Spencer reached over and held her hand.

"Oh, no. No. About a month before my father died, he sat me down and talked to me about college, what I should do if I was ever in a situation like that. So, I stopped fighting… put my hand on his shoulder and said, 'Not here, not like this'—which surprised him—and he took a half step back…" Susan took a deep breath. "With all the strength I could muster, I drove my knee right up into his groin. He dropped to the floor, screaming, so I grabbed my stuff and ran out. I was angry, more than anything else, and got in the elevator… out of defiance. And as the doors started to close, Alexei was standing in front of the elevator, red-faced from screaming. I went up on my toes and flipped him off… with both hands, still holding the ribbons of those red shoes."

Spencer smiled, then pressed his lips together as he listened.

She took a drink. "On the ride down to the lobby, I dropped the shoes, put on my sweater, and buttoned it, then I saw a box cutter on the floor. So I shredded the crap out of those red shoes. It was an awful thing to do to ballet shoes, but also strangely cathartic. Walking out of the building, I asked the doorman to hail me a cab and when he turned, I knotted the ends of the ribbons and hurled the shoes like a… a sling, but… not… I forget what it's called… and watched as they went around the flagpole, above the canopy. After I got home, I told my mom and grandmother what had happened… and then I threw up… right over there, in the kitchen." She pointed over her shoulder.

"I think you mean a bola? It's similar… to a sling." Even though he didn't know her then, Spencer felt proud of Susan, having removed herself from that situation, at thirteen years old. "Did the police arrest him?"

She shook her head. "My mother called the other parents and told them what happened. Over half the class never went back. My aunt told my mother she called Alexei, and he swore I flirted with him, that it was just a misunderstanding. It was basically my word against his. After all, Ellen said he had never done anything like that before. Spencer, all I wanted to do was be a good dancer. I would never have flirted with him, I couldn't stand him. Until that night, he was constantly belittling me." Her brows flattened as her eyes welled.

"Why didn't your aunt believe you?"

"I don't know. She has… issues. Ellen's the middle child, four years older than my mom. They had another sister, Enid, who was two years older than Ellen. She drowned when she was twelve. It tore my mom up; she and Enid were so close. The differences between Mom and Ellen were like day and night. Mom was loving and calm. My aunt is shrill and… bitter. It couldn't have been easy for my cousin Janelle to grow up with a mother like her." Susan shook her head as if talking about them was difficult. "Anyway, Mom and Grandma were worried because I had gotten so thin and told them I wanted to give up ballet completely. They were days away from going on a trip abroad and decided to take me along, thinking it would help." She nodded and then smiled. "It did."

Spencer watched her smile return and wanted to know more. "Abroad? Where did you go?"

Susan took another sip, still holding her glass. "Europe. We left that Friday, stayed in Ireland, for two weeks, then two weeks in Scotland, traveling south to England. Eight countries in four months. I kept a journal while we were traveling. Mom said it would help... and she was right about that, too. It's in a box in my old room… I think. I'd write about our day, and at the end of the week, I'd send Lizette a letter, with pictures, telling her about our adventures. Mom and Grandma encouraged me to eat, to put some weight back on. I'd eat… never needed encouragement, but I refused to dance, not even for Mom. We walked a lot, though."

"Tell me more about the trip." Spencer liked the way she talked and the expressive way she used her hands. He wanted to know about everything that made her smile.

"We visited so many wonderful, interesting places, but there was one special place in Ireland, in Liscannor, County Clare. Our guide drove us to the Cliffs of Moher Visitor's Center. I went off walking by myself and ended up at O'Brien's Tower, at the top of the cliffs, looking out over the Atlantic Ocean. After my dad died, I took some of his sweaters and his robe out of his closet and started wearing them. That's one of them." She hooked a thumb over her other shoulder, towards the coat rack. "That day, I had to hold the sweater tight around me, to keep the wind from whipping it off." She shivered as goosebumps rose on her arms. "It was so beautiful, so peaceful there, and yet wild and free. I had a sense… I don't know how to explain, it was as if I felt my father's presence. My mother found me there, put her arm around me, and asked what I was thinking. I told her, and she said part of the trip was so that she could spread some of his ashes at the cliffs. She and Dad had been there a few years before, and he loved it. Well, we both got teary-eyed. And then I told her the situation with Alexei was…" She shook her head, then shrugged. "… insignificant, considering the statistics involving teenage girls. Mom said she knew I was going to be okay… and she was right about that too."

Spencer nodded in agreement, thinking about the statistics, then picked up his glass and took a drink as she went on.

"We stayed in these magnificent castles, turned into hotels, and all the places we visited were steeped in history and legends. The only unfortunate part was since it was early September when we were in Scotland, it was nearly two months before the Samhuinn festival. I've heard it's a blast and a half there. Bonfires, spooky ghost tours, and whatnot." She pronounced it 'Sa-wen'.

He repeated it, the same way she said it. "Samhuinn. Is that the Gaelic pronunciation?"

"Mm-hmm. One castle we stayed in had brochures for the festival. It was supposedly haunted, but we didn't see anything out of the ordinary." She shrugged, smiling. "Wrong time of year, apparently... or perhaps that was merely a marketing ploy."

"Probably. I'm thinking… you like castles." He grinned.

"Oh, for sure. I got that from my grandparents… and this house. In Ireland, we stayed at Lismore Castle, once owned by Sir Walter Raleigh and Ashford Castle, near Galway. In Scotland, we stayed at Aldourie Castle on Loch Ness and went on the Nessie tour, even though she hasn't been sighted in years. But tourists still flock to the loch." Susan chuckled at her unintentional rhyme. "Then a couple of nights at the Gordon Castle, in the Highlands. In Edinburgh, we stayed at The Witchery by the Castle, went on the castle tour, and the Underground Ghost Tour." She spoke slowly, quietly, with wide eyes. "It's reported to be one of the most haunted castles in the world. Now that was spooky."

That made Spencer laugh. "Sounds like you had a great time." He thought it would be nice to visit Scotland someday. "I've read about all those places, but not The Witchery, though. It all sounds extremely interesting, especially the ghost tour."

"Oh, it was. The Witchery by the Castle is this boutique-style hotel down the hill from Edinburgh Castle, dating back to the 16th century. The buildings… oh, I was surprised I didn't end up with a kink in my neck from looking up at everything. We rambled for hours, walking along the Royal Mile. Lots of neat stuff to look at and do. We stayed for two nights, my mother in one suite and my grandmother in another, so I got to sleep a night in each. There are only nine suites, each with a different theme. Grand, but not really meant for big families."

"Hmm. Where did you go after Scotland?"

"I have a photo album with a bunch of pictures, brochures, and mementos from the trip. We made our way south to England, stopping here and there, in quaint little villages. In Leeds, we stayed for two days, then to London. We were there for a week. In all, we went on eleven tours, while we were abroad. In London alone, we went on five tours, on Shakespeare, History, the Buckingham Palace Tour, and a day trip to Stonehenge…which was incredible. Plus, we visited some cool museums. As I said, I'm a nerd about science and history, as well. I admit it."

Spencer grinned. "Sounds like my kind of fun."

"Oh, it was. I brought back a few books on the history of Great Britain, one that includes genealogical information on the Spencer family. We went on a couple of private tours, set up by a genealogist. On the tour in England, it focused on the Spencer family, which goes back to Robert le Despencer, Steward to William the Conqueror."

"Hmm. I think I'd like to read those… actual books, right?"

She laughed. "Yes, actual books. Did you know the name Spencer means Keeper of provisions? Oh, and there were all these quaint little restaurants, serving dishes like Bangers and Mash, and Fish and Chips. I was happy to try new things, like those dishes, and afternoon tea, but not blood sausages. Just the name was enough to creep me out." Susan wrinkled up her nose. That made Spencer chuckle.

"I've heard that before… about the name and I agree on the… uh… blood sausages. Where did you go after that?"

"France, for a couple of weeks and it was there, Grandma said I developed an unnatural affection for French pastries, especially croissants." She blushed, covering her face, while looking at him through her spread fingers, then lowered her hands into her lap. "Oh, the buttery goodness was delicious and so decadent, it was as if I had never tasted pastry before! If I stayed in France, I might have become a roly-poly little butterball."

Spencer laughed, picking up her hand again, entwining his fingers with hers.

Susan closed her eyes for a moment and trembled. "Um... Mom told Marsha—her best friend, as well as my godmother and Lizette's mother—that my eyes would glaze over when I ordered our food in French. By then I had gained a few pounds back, but I still refused to dance. I'd walk, workout, and stretch, but not dance. Mom tried to get me to change my mind by taking Grandma and me to the ballet. As I watched, I cried, from the beauty of it, but it didn't make me want to dance. Not ballet, anyway." She took another drink from her glass. "The tours there were fabulous. The three of us even took a French cooking class, making soufflés… or tried to, anyway, in my case." Susan shrugged. "A fallen soufflé… is basically an omelet." After Spencer stopped laughing, she went on. "And we visited the usual tourist sites, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, etcetera. There was so much to do there."

He nodded. "I took my mother to Paris, and we both enjoyed it, especially the Louvre. And yes, the food was amazing... "

"So, you get it." Susan leaned over and kissed him softly, then sat back, listening as he told her about his trip with his mother.

"… and she had a good time… we both did. She did better on the trip than I had hoped. Then what did you do?"

"While we were in Paris, we learned more about my paternal grandmother's family, the Broussards and the Laroques on the other genealogy tour. And we visited my father's aunt, uncle, a few of the cousins, and their families. After that, we went to Barcelona for nearly a week. Mom took us to this restaurant where dance instructors teach patrons the Tango. For my 14th birthday, she bought me a dress to wear to dinner. It was black, off one shoulder, with an asymmetrical hem and ruffles."

He watched her fingers fluttering, imagining the dress as she described it.

"Very chic. Oh, the Tango is such a beautiful, passionate dance, so freeing, so different than ballet." Susan's hand was absently stroking his back, which he liked. "Having dance training, I took to it fairly easily. My mother was thrilled that I was dancing."

Spencer noticed her eyes lit up as she talked about it.

"And after that, we stayed with my great-aunt and my cousins, in Portugal for a couple of weeks."

"Portugal?"

"Mm-hmm. It was great meeting them and spending time with them. Then a few days in Venice, and nearly a week in Rome, with more walking, more tours, and nearly two weeks in Monserrato, Sicily, with the Bartolomeo and Rossi cousins."

Spencer asked, "Knowing how much Dave likes to cook, I'm guessing there was cooking involved? Possibly eating, as well?"

She blushed and laughed. "Naturally, in addition to walking and a lot of baking, too. I wore out three pairs of sneakers during that trip and the fourth pair by the time we got home. In Sicily, we toured the Valley of the Temples, which Grandma liked so much, she had Marsha add two weeks in Greece to our trip. Marsha is a travel agent, by the way."

"I'm also getting a sense that you like to eat."

She laughed, blushing, and Spencer leaned over, slid his arm around her, and kissed her again; her lips felt so good on his and when he broke the kiss, Susan answered quietly, "I do, but I burn it off quickly. I eat healthy… well mostly, with a little junk food."

"Hmm. So, tell me about Greece. I've always wanted to go." He was still holding her close with one arm, still holding her hand in his.

"Oh, Greece is fascinating. With your interest in Philosophy, you have to go. We toured all over Athens, Delphi, walked more, got up close and personal with history, in the birthplace of Western philosophy." Susan smiled again, playfully. "And if you're wondering, yes, the food was good too, especially the Souvlaki, Moussaka, and Baklava! Yum."

Spencer laughed, making Susan smile even more. "Sounds like you had a good time."

"We did. We had a wonderful adventure, took a few hundred pictures, and by the time we got home a few days after Christmas, I was closer to a healthy weight, and three inches taller. I had curves and my smile back, looking more like a teenage girl and less like a two-by-eight plank with hair. And a couple of weeks later, I started at GW. I've been hogging the conversation again, Spencer. I'm so sorry!" Her cheeks darkened. "It's weird for me to talk about myself but get me going about dancing and the places we visited, I could go on and on."

"I've enjoyed listening to you talk. It must have been amazing." His brows furrowed as he remembered why her mother and grandmother took her along in the first place. "So… what happened to the Ballet teacher?"

"Before we got home, we found out from Marsha, Lizette's mother, that Janelle was having sex with him. She sought out his attention." Susan shook her head. "He took advantage of her… or maybe she let him. I don't know. She has always had issues with me. Mom said Janelle was jealous, though I couldn't understand why. She was prettier, taller, and more popular in school…"

He thought to himself, Janelle couldn't possibly be as sweet or as special as Susan.

"… one of her friends told Lizette, who told her mother. Marsha called my mother before we left Sicily… and mom called Ellen. She called the police, and they sent an officer to talk to Janelle. After we got back, I heard that Alexei was on his terrace when the cops showed up to arrest him. Before they could cuff him, he jumped over the 5th-floor railing. He killed himself, to avoid being sent to prison."

"Hmm." Spencer shook his head; he wasn't surprised. "He wouldn't have fared well in prison."

Susan sighed in resignation. "And it's in the past. I learned to let it go and move on, but as I said, I was able to fight him off; other girls aren't as lucky. I'm sure you know the statistics… in your line of work."

"Mm-hmm." He was impressed at how strong her will must have been, even at thirteen, then briefly thought about how much sleep he could get if he went home, but it was as if he were glued to the sofa with her, their arms still around each other.

"Do you realize…'' She looked over at the clock, "… it's 6 am? I'm not even tired? It's been wonderful spending time with you." She leaned in and kissed him softly. When she started kissing his neck, Spencer closed his eyes and smiled, letting out a sigh.

"I've enjoyed it too—very much, and I'm not tired either—but I have to go home… to shower, change and head to work." He enjoyed the feeling of her lips on his neck. It was damn near impossible to tear himself away from her and get up off the sofa, but he had to go. She pulled a card out of her wallet and handed it to him, as he got up from the sofa, and he stuck it in his pocket.

At the door, he kissed her several times, said he'd call as soon as he could, then pulled his book bag over his shoulder, and went out. Susan asked Betty to open the gate and after a moment, she closed the door. Spencer opened the car door and got in, thinking of her. Reluctantly, he shoved the key into the ignition.

Susan went upstairs to brush her teeth and change. Taking off her bra, she winced at the grooves the damp band had dug into her sides, then put on deodorant and a tank top. Shower later. Her cell phone buzzed. It was a text from her cousin Janelle.

I can't find any more toilet paper.

Almost out of paper towels too.

Susan groaned in frustration. After pulling on dry panties, black yoga pants, and socks, she called Lizette. "Sorry I didn't call you after class yesterday…No, I'm fine… I gotta take a shower, then go get stuff for the apartment…"

Coming down, she stopped on the landing. Her heart skipped a beat, surprised to see Spencer standing by the foot of the stairs, looking up at her. "… hey, let Darby know I won't be in? Thanks. ILY, too. Later, Gator." She slid her cell phone into her pocket, stepping off the stairs. "Hi. Did you… forget something?"

"I couldn't leave… I didn't want to." Spencer slid his arms around her, held her close, and kissed her. He felt her hands on his back and her lips and soft breath on his neck. "I sat in my car, thinking of you, and the driveway gate closed."

"Well…" Susan's voice was quiet, and she shuddered against him. "I decided to take today off, and if you took the day off too, I'm sure we could find something to do." She gasped and shook her head as she looked up at him. "I mean... I've never… but we've spent so much time together and being with you feels so delightful. It would be nice to see where this takes us."

Holding her with one arm, he slid his fingers along her jaw and kissed her again. Sliding his other arm around her, he said, his voice hushed, "I'll call Emily, to let her know I won't be in, but I do need to go home, to shower and change my clothes, and… the nearest pharmacy, in case things get… physical." He pulled back a couple of inches to look at her reaction.

"Spencer, if it makes you uncomfortable, that can wait. I've waited this long, after all. I mean… I know about the mechanics of sex, the who does what and what goes where. As far as the rest goes, it would be nice figuring things out… with you. If you know what you want… go for it."

"Jumping in the deep end?"

She laughed, sweetly. "Mm-hmm. Exactly."

I don't have much… in the way of experience, but I need to know I'm not forcing myself on you."

She shook her head. "No, you're not… and I don't… unless reading romance novels or watching cable shows count. Besides, we're adults. I say we prepare ourselves and whatever happens, happens. If you need me to say it… you have my consent and… I… I want you to stay over… no strings attached. And so you know, I have no expectations, beyond this weekend. It would be nice to get to know each other better. That is… if you'd like to."

Spencer stepped back and picked up her hands. "I'd like that, but I need to tell you something…" He told her a little about Maeve; the months of writing back and forth, the phone calls when they would talk for hours and how she was killed by a stalker in front of him when they finally met face to face. "I never even got to hold her."

It was like a gut punch; Susan gasped, "Spencer, I'm so sorry."

He was silent for a long moment, then finally said, "It was seven years ago and I learned to move on. I had to. I'm almost surprised Dave didn't say anything, but I thought you should know."

"It wouldn't have been his place to talk about it. That's so deeply personal… and private. I'm glad you told me, though." She hugged him, closing her eyes for a moment, "It must have been awful for you."

"It was. You're still here, but then, you live here…" he chuckled. "… so you must be okay with… everything. I've never felt the way I do right now and I don't want this to end." He crooked his finger under her chin, lifting it, and kissed her, feeling her shudder against him. Now that he knew the reason why she did that, it made him happy.

"I'm okay with… everything and I've never felt this way, either."

He glanced at his watch, "I need to call Emily." Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he noticed the battery was low. "Could you show me where I can plug this in?" Spencer went to the table by the front door and pulled a cord and charger out of his bookbag, as Susan showed him the electrical outlet next to the table leg.

"Thank you." Holding the phone, he pulled her close and kissed her longingly, then let her go, connected the cord to his phone, and plugged it in, watching as she headed toward the back of the house. After ending the call, he set his phone on the table and followed, finding her in the kitchen, cooking.

"I told Emily I hadn't slept, which is true, but…" He laughed, leaning against the counter, next to a wooden stool. "She probably knows I'm not telling her everything—she's that good of a profiler. I'm sure there will be an interrogation waiting for me tomorrow when I see her. After Friday, I'm off for thirty days." His eyebrows rose. "Wait, I don't think I told you about that. After I was released from prison, one of the conditions of my reinstatement was for every hundred days on the job, I have to take thirty off. It's been a few years, but it's still in effect, so I do seminars and lectures. It's why I called Dr. Harkanian in the first place. And when I saw drsuspence in your email, I admit, I was… intrigued."

"Well, so you know, legally, my name is Maria Suzanne Spencer; my parents named me after both my grandmothers but I've always gone by Susan…or Suzie." She moved in closer. "'I guess drmaspence doesn't have that… je ne sais quoi."

Spencer slid his hands around her waist and kissed her as she draped her arms over his shoulders. "Hmm. True. During your class, I remembered reading articles by Dr. M.S. Spencer and wondered if perhaps they were related to you… but that was you?"

"Mm-hmm, yeah…" She shrugged, "I wrote a few…" and kissed his earlobe, feeling his arms tighten around her.

"You know… we've got in at least six dates in under twenty hours. Would this be considered speed dating?" Spencer smiled and as he kissed her again; her lips were warm and soft and his hands moved slowly up her back, to discover she was no longer wearing a bra. It wasn't that he didn't notice, he was trying not to think about it, but now it was all he could think about. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to concentrate on anything else that might distract him from thoughts of sex, at least until he could get to the drugstore. Relaxing his arms a bit, he silently wondered how his mother was, reminding himself to call her…and his dad. Perhaps he should also call his aunt and uncle, too. That seemed to help, at least for the moment.

Looking up at him, she whispered, "I made coffee…"

"Oh, okay… yes, please." He opened his eyes, slowly letting go of her, and sat down even more slowly on the stool. "Can I ask you something you might find unusual?"

"Sure, anything." Susan wobbled a little as she brought over the carafe from the coffeemaker that sat on the counter next to the refrigerator and poured some in a mug. She set it in front of him with a spoon and turned to put the carafe back. There was a glass bowl of creamer containers beside a jar of brown sugar on the counter. "That's coconut sugar by the way… or there's honey in the cupboard if you prefer."

"This is fine, thank you. How many pairs of shoes do you own?" Spencer blurted out, then chuckled at her bewildered expression. He explained, "Several years ago, while on a case, my friends tried to educate me on the inner workings of a woman's closet." He poured sugar into his coffee and stirred it.

"No one has ever asked me that, but okay. Nine. Wait… pointe shoes, flats, a pair of Chucks, kind of like yours, but laced with ribbons… a pair of pumps for work, wedges, dressy sandals, workout shoes, slip-on shoes, and boots. Right, that's nine. Do house slippers count?"

He shook his head, grinning. "No… I wouldn't think so."

"As I said before, I don't spend a lot on myself and live fairly simply… I'm not into brands. When I wear out a pair, I buy another." She shrugged. "Is that what you want to know?"

"Mm-hmm." Spencer set the mug down, slid his arms around her again, pulled her close, and kissed her as she bent down with her hands on his shoulders. "You are unlike every woman I know. I think you're fascinating."

Leaning back in his arms, she put the back of one hand against her forehead, and set her other hand on the counter, sighed dramatically, and in a Southern accent, Susan drawled, "I do declare, with praise like that, it's just so hard to be humble."

Spencer laughed, trying to keep his focus on the words printed on her tank top, as she straightened up and not on her breasts under the fabric, mere inches away from his face.

She smiled, seemingly unaware of her effect on him. "Hungry? I've got cheese melting on scrambled eggs if you'd like some."

"Sure. Thank you." He didn't want to let her go, but relented, watching her in the kitchen, and asked about the tank top. "So…uh…what's Nerd Machine Physics Department?"

"Oh, Nerd HQ. It's a fund-raising event I went to several years ago, while at Comic-Con in San Diego." She set two plates on the counter, taking out forks from a drawer, laying one on each plate.

Susan scooped some eggs onto each plate, handed him one, setting the other on the counter next to him. "Having the summer off is one of many reasons I like teaching." She sat on the stool beside him. "The Con in New York is cool, but I think San Diego is still the best."

He nodded, "That's a great convention." and took a sip, then looked back up at her. "Didn't you say you don't drink coffee?"

"I don't, but I have friends and family who do. Lizette usually comes by for a cup before class at the center. Personally, I love the smell of it… just can't drink it. I'm naturally caffeinated… as you can probably tell by now."

"Mm-hmm. Fair enough." Spencer took another drink. "It's very good, thank you."

"You're welcome. I enjoy cooking and entertaining… oh, which reminds me, Dave and Krystall are coming over for dinner next Saturday, if you'd like to join us? They went to California, to visit Joy and her family, but said they'd be home the day before."

"I'd like that. We can tell Dave we… met in your class… or we could say we've been dating for a while. Six dates, or seven… can be considered a while, right?"

"Maybe? But then… given my lack of a dating history…"

He laughed. "True. I still need to stop by my apartment, for a shower and a change of clothes, if you'd like to go with me… but I do want to… to spend more time with you… here… this weekend."

Susan shuddered. "Mm-hmm, sure. I need to pick up my mail. It's not far and would only take a few minutes." Her eyes widened. "Oh… I… I should go upstairs and put on… uh… so you know, normally, out of habit, when I come home, the… um… my bra is one of the first things I take off. Why don't I go up—"

"—Not necessary… if you're comfortable… I'm… it's fine." Spencer cleared his throat, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything else but her. And if she went back up to her room, he would have wanted to go with her. So he finished drinking his coffee, watching as Susan picked up their empty plates, taking them back into the kitchen.

After rinsing out his cup in the sink, he would have left it on the counter if Susan hadn't opened the dishwasher next to him and loaded the breakfast dishes in it. He had to will his feet to move, to keep from pulling her into his arms again, which is what he wanted to do. Instead, Spencer went to the table by the front door, pulled his book bag over his shoulder, and waited for her. He checked his phone. Since the battery level was still low, he decided to leave it there, to charge.

/

A/N

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