Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All recognizable The Bold Type characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: As you have probably noticed, I have been attempting to clear my hard drive of a few stories I started ages ago and forgot for months. I apologize if the editing wasn't as attentive as it should have been. -dkc
The Problem in Her Touch
The thing about having her own office was that Jane Sloan didn't get roped into the usual bullpen drama. When the computers go down, she boots up her laptop and carries on. When Sage is going on about the latest unnamed courier that flirted with her in the elevator, she doesn't have to comment or offer a pretend smile. When Jacqueline Carlyle needs her, she is summoned by Andrew. Ideally, that is how their interactions would be. Though as it turned out, that had never once been the case with them since Jane got her own office. And that was beginning to be a problem.
"Jane?" Alex caught her as she was getting off the elevator. "I recorded the segment for the vertical, but the dashboard doesn't give me an option for posting podcasts within the page. Can you take a look?"
"Sure," she said. "Let me drop my bag and I will be right there."
Jane took a big swig of her coffee as she walked into her office, dropped her things and headed for Alex's desk.
"Alright, let's see what we've got," Alex stood and gave her his chair. "Thank you."
"Maybe I need to be an administrator of the website to do it?" he asked as she clicked through various screens.
"This is odd. I've posted videos with no issue and Scott was able to post audio. I can't tell what the problem with this media file is. You recorded it the same as all podcast material, right?" she asked, trying to remember the steps as they were explained to her.
"What seems to be the problem?" Jacqueline's voice came up behind her a split second before soft hands rested on Jane's shoulders. The seated woman knew her shoulders tensed. "Good morning."
"Umm…" God, I have a bad habit of sounding terribly inarticulate around this woman, Jane thought. "Alex's segment—audio—won't upload."
"Are you signed into his account or yours?" Jacqueline was now leaning down to look, her cheek barely a breath from Jane's.
"This is his…desk," the writer squeaked.
Jacqueline chuckled, unwilling to respond to her quite obvious statement.
"Sign into your account, Jane." Jane could have sworn Jacqueline lowered her voice. Jane's ears couldn't seem to confirm it, but other parts of her did.
She did as she was asked, attempting to keep her hand still and her heart rate manageable. This was precisely what Jane had started to notice with their interactions. Jacqueline had no qualms with invading Jane's personal space. The woman had always been touchy-feely and with Jane she appeared to feel the most comfortable. I don't suppose it is an invasion if I welcome it, right? Jane considered.
"Here, try this," Jacqueline's hand was now over Jane's on the mouse, her breast pushing into the younger woman's shoulder. Jane's breath stopped. Her hand trembled. There was no way this could go unnoticed. No, there was definitely no way she didn't notice. That was definitely a twitch at the corner of Jacqueline's mouth, Jane noticed.
"Hey, look at that! Thanks, Jacqueline," Alex said.
His excitement barely registered in Jane's ears as being the end of the ordeal. She still couldn't catch her breath and the very lovely-smelling woman behind her was still touching her arm.
"You are very welcome," the editor stood and smiled at them both. "Hopefully that will be the only glitch today."
And she walked away as if she wasn't affected at all by the close proximity the two women had shared.
###
The morning pitch meeting was unusual, to say the least. Jane was initially glad it was going in the direction it was because that meant very little of Jacqueline's attention was on her. Jane really couldn't be on Jacqueline's radar when they were all having the pleasure (some of them more than others) of hearing Sage depict the latest sex position sidebar. Andrew was bright red as he took notes for the editor-in-chief. Jane suspected her face was well on its way to being equally red, though for very different reasons.
"Hmm…" Jacqueline leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "If orgasm is to be reached, I think the angle is all wrong."
Jane felt her coffee begin to burn the back of her throat and up further as it nearly shot out of her nostrils. She sputtered as she attempted to breathe. The brunette was definitely not prepared for Jacqueline to utter the word 'orgasm' and the fact that she was thinking about a sex act while sitting there with all of them was a bit more than Jane could handle. She squeezed her thighs together, nearly moaning.
"Is everything okay, Jane?" She was staring at the writer, an eyebrow raised. She isn't staring at me, she is looking right into me and reading my damn mind! She closed her eyes and nodded. When Jane reopened them, swear to God, Jaqueline had a smirk on her face.
"Back to my question: Is it possible?" That's how it all started. Jacqueline was asking her writers if a sex position was possible. And nobody was willing to answer. She was losing her patience. "Why is this so difficult, people. Have we lost the ability to be mature adults? I'm not asking you to get naked. I'm asking if what Sage is proposing is possible."
Jane refused to look at Jacqueline. The discussion of a sex position ideally suited for two women was difficult enough to sit through without having to look at those captivating blue eyes as she did so.
"Alright, if you don't want to reveal anything about your opinions of or experience with sex, you are under no obligation to."
The silence was excruciating. It turned out that the only thing worse than talking about it was not talking about it.
"Yes," Jane found herself muttering with no plan for the follow-up question.
"Tell me why," Jacqueline's request made the brunette's head pop up and she looked at her boss with terror.
"I'm not asking you to stand up and help me test this—Lord knows that would get this over with faster—I'm asking why it is possible," Jacqueline was exasperated.
Jane felt for her boss and wanted to bail her out, but the thought of testing a sex position with her had made the writer's legs shaky, her voice falter and her stomach was doing flips.
"Umm…" she had to clear her throat to get her voice even. "It's essentially a back bend, right?"
"Explain."
Of course Jacqueline wouldn't be content with the simplest answer.
Standing abruptly, Jane pushed her chair back and stood. Her eyes met Alex's. The writer's jaw had dropped at his friend's willingness to attempt this.
"Look," she took her shoulders, pulling the blades together and leaned into an arched back, lowering herself until her head was a couple feet from the ground. She was demonstrating what it would look like if she were the smaller partner in said position. "Appropriate height of the other…participant…would make it possible."
When she once again took her seat, her cheeks were red and she had nothing more to say on the matter. She heard the editor clear her throat and chanced a glance out the corner of her eye to see the taller woman taking a drink of water.
"Thank you, Jane. You pointed out the obvious back bend and required flexibility," Jacqueline was matter-of-fact. Any innuendo or humor right then would have made it all much worse. "Slowly lowering yourself from that position, of course."
Jacqueline cleared her throat once again. Was she not as calm, cool and collected as she presented? Jane really wondered.
"It doesn't take personal experience to look at these objectively. Now Sage, the floor is yours. What will accompany this for the vertical?"
The awkward tension in the room finally dispersed and the conversation flowed freely. Jane was able to breathe once again. That is until her editor's hand found her knee and gave it a squeeze of gratitude. It was brief and yet the young woman was flummoxed. She had no idea when Sage quit speaking or if Jacqueline had said anything to wrap up the meeting.
"Thanks for your help, Jane," the writer couldn't even look the older woman in the eyes. Perhaps Jacqueline was glad for it because when Jane finally did look up, she saw the editor already in the bullpen and noted a slight tinge of pink on the woman's face.
Jane Sloan had never been so glad for a pitch meeting to conclude. She darted out of the conference room and found safety in the solitude of her office.
The solitude was short lived.
###
A brief knock on her door was followed by Jacqueline entering the office without any acknowledgment or permission.
"Hey," Jane said as she looked up.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay. It probably wasn't the best idea to allow you to illustrate how a sex position could be achieved. Especially in front of your colleagues," the editor sighed. "Are you? Okay that is?"
Jane nodded, not saying anything. This was met with a raised eyebrow and knowing stare.
"It's not like I gave you a choice in the matter—"
"Still. You went above and beyond and I guess I am both apologizing and thanking you. You saved us all from sitting there for the rest of the day in silence," Jacqueline smiled. "I owe you, Jane."
The writer nodded and said nothing as the blonde exited her office
###
"Hello, Jane."
A few days later, the brunette was walking out of Oliver's office, having left a note for Sutton to cheer her up when she got into the office the following morning and she totally missed that Jacqueline was sitting on her office couch with the door wide open. She had a glass in her hand and looked exhausted.
"Hey," Jane took a few steps back to look at the editor through the glass wall.
"Care to have a drink with me?" she asked.
I know better. I know better. I know better. Time alone with this woman was seriously testing me. I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't do or say something stupid in her presence, Jane said to herself. And yet she walked right in.
"Have a seat," Jacqueline smiled as she stood to pour the writer a drink.
Jane honestly contemplated turning around one of the chairs that usually face Jacqueline's desk and sitting there, but decided if she did that, the editor would expect an explanation for the distance. That would be one hell of an explanation. Oh, I don't know, maybe because I don't trust my physical reaction to you? Jane mused.
Jacqueline handed Jane a glass and not only did their hands brush, from the outside it would have appeared as if the blonde's hand lingered there. Her knuckles were rubbing against the palm of Jane's hand.
"Thanks," the writer's voice cracked.
"Jane, are you okay? You have been acting very…different…lately."
Hiding behind her glass, purposely sipping the amber liquid slowly to allow herself time to think of something brilliant to say, Jane stalled. The problem is, I have a hell of a time being brilliant when your blue eyes are looking at me like this, she wanted to scream.
"No, I mean, yes, I am okay."
That eyebrow of Jacqueline's might as well stay quirked given how often she was confused by Jane Sloan. The look itself might actually be the death of Jane whose heart was racing. The raised eyebrow and slight twitch at the corner of her mouth was classic Jacqueline. In those moments, she did have the ability to back off. She never pushed Jane farther than the writer was willing to go. It gave Jane a moment to get her head together, if nothing else.
"There is no cause for alarm, Jacqueline," she managed to say.
"I would hope not."
Slowly sipping their drinks, the two women managed to maintain eye contact over the top of their glasses. It was the longest Jane could remember ever sitting in silence with the editor-in-chief. Eventually she finished her drink and regrettably excused herself. She didn't trust that she could sit in silence much longer. Not with beautiful, baby blue eyes looking at her.
###
"Are you taking the subway?" Kat asked as they exited the Belle after a reception for none other than Jacqueline Carlyle.
"I was going to head back to the office. Are you going home, Sutton?" the writer asked.
"Yeah, want to share a cab, Kat?"
"You sure you don't want to come home? What do you have at the office that can't wait?" Kat prodded Jane.
Jane didn't have a chance to explain herself because the woman of the hour had reached the ground floor and was texting as she approached the three friends.
"You are welcome to ride back with me, Jane," the editor approached, having overheard their conversation.
"Perfect," Sutton said. "Since we can't convince you to come home."
Taking a deep breath, Jane nodded at Jacqueline. She was instantly nervous about being in the back seat of the town car with her boss. Not that anything untoward would ever happen. Nothing she didn't want. She chastised herself for even thinking about it.
"Great. Here is the car," Jacqueline placed a hand at the small of the brunette's back and led her through the door. "Have a good evening, ladies."
Giving her friends a sheepish look, Jane climbed into the backseat before Jacqueline and got settled. She was putting on her seatbelt when she felt a soft hand on her own. The extra step of clicking the seatbelt in was lost to the feel of Jacqueline's hand on her own.
"That's a beautiful ring," the older woman said.
"It was my mom's," Jane blushed.
"May I?"
After a subtle nod of permission, Jacqueline had taken Jane's hand and brought it closer so she could look closely at the intricacies of the ring. The writer's breath caught when it felt as if a finger beneath her hand was gently rubbing her skin. Back and forth, back and forth. When her hand was finally released, she let out a breath she had been holding.
"Thank you," Jacqueline's voice was quiet and gentle.
All Jane could do was nod. She couldn't form words. Her heart rate was not steadying despite her attempts at breathing evenly. She felt the heat in her face and knew she was blushing.
Damn this woman for insisting on touching her, Jane inwardly groaned. Would it ever stop? Do I even want it to? Fuck!
###
"Let's go downstairs and clean up the mess ourselves, shall we?" Jacqueline said to the writer's room.
Scarlet was being boycotted for allowing advertising from a company that had claimed sustainability only to be found guilty of fraud. There was no way to know, of course. In any event, thousands of copies of the magazine had been rounded up from all over the city and had been thrown back into the building's atrium before security could get a handle on things.
They all walked toward the elevator bay and when the editor-in-chief stepped in, Jane and Alex went with her.
"Come on, we can all fit," she instructed the others.
As the writers, interns and the ever-present assistant piled into the elevator, Jane ended up in front of Jacqueline in the far corner. She was very close to the blonde. In fact, she was all but formed to the woman's front. The older woman adjusted to attempt to give Jane more room, the railing digging into her back. When she went to move again to save her low back, her pelvis tilted and pressed firmly against Jane's butt. The writer sucked in air, obvious to Jacqueline as well as Alex. He didn't know why, assuming it was a bit too claustrophobic in the elevator with so many people. It was a very long ride to the ground floor where Jane darted out and put the full width of the atrium in between she and Jacqueline. She hoped that it would take the writers and cleaning crew a considerable amount of time to clean up as she needed a nice long break from her editor.
I am so fucked, she groaned.
###
Jane had been distant. Jacqueline had noticed. She feared recent interactions had offended the young woman and because she was respecting Jane's need for space, she had not pressed for an explanation or one-on-one time.
"Are you okay?" Sutton asked her as they sat in the fashion closet discussing gowns for the upcoming gala.
"I don't know," she sighed. "It's Jacqueline."
"Of course it is, honey."
Jane gave her a sharp look before getting quiet.
"I feel guilty, Sut. I can't help my very physical reaction to her. I don't want her to think she has crossed a line. It's certainly not her fault. But I also know I can only keep it in for so long. She's bound to notice, if she hasn't already, and when that happens, I fear she is going to hate me."
Tears began to fall down Jane's cheeks making her angry at herself for being emotional about this.
"Hey," Sutton hugged her. "Jacqueline could never hate you."
The editor has quietly opened the door just as she heard the wise and true words of one Sutton Brady. Their backs were turned to her; she cleared her throat to announce her presence.
"Hey Jacqueline!" Sutton spun around with a big, though fake, smile on her face.
Jacqueline noticed Jane hurrying to wipe tears from her cheeks and taking a deep breath before also turning around. The pain on the brunette's face made the editor instantly worry. Her number one concern was with Jane's well-being but she also couldn't help the pit in her stomach that represented her fear that Jane was once again going to leave Scarlet. That she was going to leave her.
"We are plotting our drop-dead gorgeous outfits for the gala. Can I help you find anything specific?" Sutton was on her feet and willing to do anything to keep the editor from observing her friend.
"I'm going back to my office," Jane announced.
The editor caught her eye as she passed but was unable to learn much from the look alone. She wanted to reach out and hug her. Little did Jacqueline know it was that very kind of touch that had Jane upside down.
###
Sutton had picked out three dresses for her. She had stared at them on the rack in the fashion closet for twenty minutes unable to decide which best suited her mood and her body.
The first dress she tried on was too glamorous for an annual Scarlet gala. While she liked how her body looked in it, she knew she would stand out. The second dress was subtle. It was a dark green that when not in appropriate lighting looked almost black. She was mesmerized by the hue.
Jane stood in front of the full-length mirror marveling at the dress when the door to the small room opened. She was sure she'd heard a swift intake of air as she was turning around to meet the eyes of the intruder.
"Jacqueline."
She was surprised to see the editor and even more surprised that the woman hadn't said anything. After an obvious silence had registered, Jacqueline finally spoke up.
"You…that dress is enchanting," she seemed tongue-tied, but covered well as she walked closer to Jane who turned back to look in the mirror.
"It is, isn't it?" Jane smiled, tilting her head to the side as she continued to look.
The blonde approached slowly until she was standing directly behind Jane.
"May I?" she asked, nodding toward the back of the dress where the zipper was open.
Taking a deep, though shaky breath, the writer nodded. She played with fire with the skill and excitement of a pyromaniac. Jacqueline's fingers found the zipper pull just south of the small of Jane's back. When the gentle, long fingers could be felt dragging the zipper upward, the pace became insufferable. It felt as if the editor's hands were moving in slow motion. Jane sucked in a breath when she felt fingers touch her skin as the zipper was maneuvered over her bra strap. Jacqueline's movements ceased, causing the young woman to furrow her brow. She looked ahead into the mirror and saw the glassy, ice-blue stare. A gentle hand brushed the nape of her neck as her hair was brushed aside to allow for the zipper to reach its destination. Jane didn't want the touch to end. She was buzzing with adrenaline and the arousal that she felt could hardly be hidden for much longer.
"There you are," Jacqueline's voice was soft and quiet, a touch lower than normal.
When the hands left her neck, Jane missed them immediately. The loss of touch was painful even if the decreased tension was appreciated. And then Jane sighed in approval as Jacqueline's hands found her hips, slowly turning the young woman around to allow the writer to see what the back looked like in the mirror. Her hands remained on those hips as Jane looked. It wasn't until the brunette turned back to face the editor that the hands dropped.
"This is the one," Jacqueline nodded, looking Jane over one more time.
"Yeah?" Jane's voice wobbled.
"You look extraordinary, Jane."
"I—"
The closet door swung open and in walked Jane's fashion advisor.
"Damn! Am I good or what?" Sutton began looking Jane over before the obvious awkwardness could develop. "I hate you for your hips, babe. This dress was made for you. What do you think Jacqueline?"
Sutton has busied herself with all angles of the dress before making eye contact with either woman. How Jacqueline felt was written clearly on her face.
"She's gorgeous," she spoke in awe.
"Jane Sloan you look hot in this dress!" Sutton exclaimed. Jane blushed.
"It's an inspired selection, Sutton. Your talent is really beginning to show in your work. I am impressed."
While Sutton was being praised by Jacqueline, Jane finally took a breath.
"Thank you, Jacqueline."
The strawberry-blonde stylist finally looked up to see the curious look on her boss's face.
"I leave you in good hands, Jane," the editor winked at the young woman and backed her way out of the closet.
"Fuck," Jane exhaled sharply.
"What the hell was that?" Sutton whispered.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Jane huffed.
"I don't need to guess. Did you see the look on her face?"
Shaking her head, the writer pointed to the zipper of her dress. Sutton found the zipper pull but stalled.
"Janie, she was looking at you like you were dinner. How did you not see it? This dress is the one," she unzipped the dress and helped her friend out of it.
###
Safford Publishing knew how to throw a party. Jane, Sutton and Kat walked into the ballroom and gawked at the extravagance. Not only was the space beautiful, the atmosphere was a welcome break from being in the office with some of these people.
"They spared no expense this time," Kat whistled under her breath.
"Look at that gorgeous dress!" Sutton was already distracted by the fashion causing Jane and Kat to look at one another and smile.
"Have you prepared what you are going to say when you introduce the boss lady?" Kat asked, elbowing Jane playfully.
The writer's face went white. She knew she had to introduce Jacqueline at this event, but it didn't feel real until that moment. Neither did it help that the tall blonde had walked in wearing a knockout of a dress.
"Damn, Jacqueline looks stunning," Kat cooed. "That is a beautiful dress."
"I helped her pick out her accessories. Isn't that sapphire clip in her hair gorgeous?" Sutton asked, smiling broadly at the editor as she waved in passing.
"Tiny Jane, you haven't said a word. You okay, boo?" Kat wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulders and noticed her snapping out of some sort of trance. "You've got it bad, my friend."
Jane shook off Kat's arm and rolled her eyes. She shared a look with Sutton who hadn't said anything to Kat about the talk they'd had in the fashion closet.
"I am going to get a drink," the small woman walked away.
"She is hopeless," Kat shrugged. "Will she ever let on that she has feelings for the woman? I know it is hard, but it is almost as if she is punishing herself by not saying a word. What is there to punish herself for? Humans have feelings."
"She's afraid Jacqueline will hate her. Something tells me she will live in the pain of not telling Jacqueline if that means avoiding potential rejection," Sutton explained.
"I hate to break it to you, but there is no way Jacqueline Carlyle could ever hate our Jane. Have you seen the way she looks at her? Not to mention how differently she treats her. I would bet my inheritance on the fact that the boss lady feels something, too. Why else would she give Jane responsibilities she wouldn't dream of giving other staff members? Why else would she trust Jane to write about her own sexual assault? Why else would she look at Jane the way she does, offering an encouraging touch here and there?"
"Why Edison, you are a romantic!" Sutton smiled.
They looked over and saw Jane throwing back a drink at the bar. They hoped it was her first because they knew very well how terribly their friend held her liquor.
Never had a drink been so needed.
###
"Good evening. For those of you who don't know me, I am Jane Sloan. As we continue honoring the editors of each of Safford's publications, I have the distinct privilege of introducing the editor-in-chief of Safford's flagship magazine Scarlet. Jacqueline Carlyle can be described as many things—dogged, forward thinking, brilliant. Someone recently explained to me a baseball concept, a sport I know nothing about," the audience laughed. "The phrase 'a player's manager' is used to describe a coach who will, forgive the pun, go to bat for his players. He or she is willing to take their side, whether they deserve it or not. When I first heard this, I couldn't help but associate it with Jacqueline. If ever there were a writer's editor, it would be Jacqueline Carlyle. She fights for her people. Whether we deserve it or not, she takes our side. She can be tough, though always fair. She will push you, but is equally willing to hold out a hand to help you up when you can't give any more. And as I have learned, she is unendingly patient and forgiving. She is the kind of editor that writers wish they could write for. Those of us who have that opportunity are indebted and ultimately changed forever. Ladies and gentlemen, Jacqueline Carlyle."
Jane stood back from the podium as the crowd cheered for the editor who was now walking onto the stage. Jacqueline waved to a few people, but for the most part her attention was on Jane. She appeared to have tears in her eyes as she approached the young woman at the podium. Rather than offer air kisses, something she did a lot of at these kinds of events, Jacqueline opened her arms and pulled Jane to her. She hugged the writer tightly and pressed a real kiss to her cheek, lingering her mouth there briefly to whisper in the brunette's ear: "I believe I told you that I owe you. You owe me nothing, my dear. It has been my pleasure."
When the editor released Jane, the writer felt the heat in her face, neck and chest. Being that close to Jacqueline was unnerving. However, having the woman's mouth near her ear had been too much. Her body was very much reacting.
"Thank you, Jane. You are kinder than I deserve and writers like you make my job easy…"
Jane didn't stay to listen to Jacqueline speak. She made her way out of the ballroom and to the outside exit where she found herself nearly hyperventilating.
"Hey, hey," Kat and Sutton appeared, one on either side of her, wrapping their arms around her heaving shoulders. "It's okay, babe. We've got you."
"You were amazing in there, Janie," Sutton spoke softly but with a smile in her voice. "We are so proud of you."
"Guys, I can't go back in. Would it be okay if—"
"I'll go grab our coat and bags," Kat cut her off. "Be right back."
"No, that isn't necessary," Jane stopped her.
"We can totally go, honey," Sutton offered.
"No, it's still early. We should at least say hello to more people. And you haven't even had a chance to dance, Sut."
The three loved to dance with each other at clubs and bars, but it was Sutton who loved it the most. She would drag them on to a dance floor, bouncing around them until they were worn out and she was still dancing.
"What if we stay for a few dances? I promise nothing crazy. I'll even save a slow dance for you, Jane Sloan," Sutton wiggled her eyebrows and Jane shoved her.
"Aw, love," Kat smiled, holding the door for the three to re-enter the event.
Unbeknownst to all three of them, Jacqueline Carlyle was observing them walk in. She was especially observing her writer. Something is going on with her, she said to herself.
###
A few dances turned into an hour of dancing. Sutton, per usual, was still going strong while Kat and Jane had stopped to get some water. Kat saw a friend from another publication and began walking over to chat for a minute. She looked back at Jane to make sure she was okay—never leave a friend alone at a bar when they are in a funk was Kat's rule. Jane nodded in response to the look. The writer had finished her water and was debating whether or not to ask the man behind the bar for something much stronger. She was already a couple of drinks in; it likely wasn't responsible. Not at a work event.
Standing from her stool, Jane moved in the direction of the Energizer bunny that was her roommate. Her path was blocked by an absolute goddess—Jacqueline. The way the fabric painted her body, shimmering as she moved, was hard to not watch intently.
"Hi there," Jacqueline offered a smile that she hoped would encourage Jane to relax in her presence.
"Hey." Jane smiled a promising smile.
"Would you by chance like to dance?" Jacqueline's nerves surfaced in her voice.
"You want to dance with me? Here?" Jane was surprised.
"Wouldn't the place where dancing is occurring be the most logical spot to dance, Jane? And yes, I would like to dance with you."
Jane glanced around the area and still saw a few editors and assistant editors from various magazines. She didn't see any board members, but she couldn't believe Jacqueline was willing to take the risk. Wouldn't it be inappropriate to dance with an employee? And a female employee at that.
"I…I…uh…yes."
Jacqueline couldn't help but smile at the way Jane tripped over herself in unexpected situations. It was rather cute. She held out a hand for the young woman to take and when she felt the small hand slip into her own, her eyes closed on their own accord. The writer had been looking to Jacqueline to guide them, to make all of the decisions. She noted the closed eyes. When they opened, Jacqueline was ready to take them to the dance floor. They saw Sutton pulling Andrew off a chair and forcing him to dance with her to what she was insisting was her favorite song. Jane smiled knowing that Sutton would never have been able to settle on a favorite song.
"Perhaps I should lead," Jacqueline's voice was soft, quiet.
"I think that is probably for the best."
Jacqueline abandoned one of the writer's hands for the other, holding it in her own as they took on their roles. When Jacqueline's hand found the small of Jane's back, she felt the woman's body tense.
"Relax, Jane," she whispered.
When Jane's hand had traversed the editor's shoulder and come to rest between shoulder blade and the nape of Jacqueline's neck, the taller woman inhaled harshly. The knowledge that the unflappable editor-in-chief was also fighting nerves actually helped Jane relax. She ceased being so stiff and gave herself over to the moment.
"That's better," Jacqueline hummed.
There was a subtle change in their position; Jacqueline had pulled Jane closer without either noticing it happening.
"You…" Jane stalled. "You look really beautiful tonight, Jacqueline."
"Thank you, Jane. You already know my opinion of your dress," the editor winked.
"That I do, that I do," Jane found herself smiling.
She hadn't consciously slipped her fingers into the hair at the nape of the blonde's neck. The sound that came out of Jacqueline's mouth was a cross between a gasp and a welp. Jane pulled her hand back immediately.
"I'm sorry," she rushed out an apology and began planning her escape. What the hell was I thinking? Jane fumed. She was embarrassed by her lack of will power and professionalism. Just as she had taken the first half step back from the editor, Jacqueline's hand which had remained on her low back pulled Jane firmly back in.
"Oh," Jane attempted to stifle her moan which turned the sound hoarse.
Jacqueline's hand pulled their arms in closer to her body, Jane holding tight and watching them move. Her eyes were wide. The skin of her back was on fire where Jacqueline's hand held her. She was tempted to again thread her fingers through blonde hair. She instead traced the bare skin exposed by the off-the-shoulder dress and held tight to the high point of the editor's shoulder. Two bodies relaxed into one another. Breathing that had been erratic, at times stunted and shallow resumed by way of the normal rise and fall of chests.
That night in bed as she relived every breath of the dance, the song that played was gone from Jane's memory. Her mind only remembered the older woman's soft breath near her ear. She felt the beat of Jacqueline's heart against her own chest. But what she recalled most clearly, what made her body tingle and her sex clench was how as they began to part at the end of the song, Jacqueline's fingers traced the dress's zipper just as she had in the fashion closet when she walked in on Jane trying it on.
Jane Sloan was gone.
###
"Am I being ridiculous, Sut?" Jane asked over coffee Saturday morning at the kitchen table.
"God no. You are human. And as Kat reminded me last night, humans have feelings. Shocking, right? No, you aren't ridiculous. Your heart wants what it wants. Your body wouldn't react to the woman if it didn't as well. And she is smoking hot," Sutton nudged her jokingly. "Seriously, babe, the only thing that is bordering on ridiculous is the way the two of you are literally dancing around this. Wow, the other dance was something else."
Jane rolled her eyes at this. Sipping her coffee without saying a word. Yes, it certainly was, she thought.
"Babe, I don't think this can go on much longer before you combust. Hell, the ever-composed Jacqueline Carlyle might crack. You really can't keep up this dance."
"We aren't dancing around anything. There is no 'we' in this!" Jane stated, frustration brewing. "It's me, Sut. Me!"
Kat walked in the front door right then and was very confused about what had happening in the kitchen.
"Whoa, what is going on?" Kat asked as she walked in, setting pastries down on the table. "Whatever it is, Sutton isn't the bad guy, Tiny Jane."
"I know, I know," she dragged her hands through her hair and closed her eyes.
Her two friends stood staring at one another, totally without a clue as to how to help Jane.
"Why don't we have some breakfast?" Kat played appeaser.
"You guys go ahead; I need to get out of here. I'll take my dress back to the office."
Before either of her friends could object, Jane went to her room to change, gathered her things and walked out the door.
"She can't keep this up," Kat shook her head.
"That's exactly what I told her."
They looked at the pastry box longingly, looked at each other and then dug in.
###
The one place Jane always felt she could go when she needed out of her apartment was the office. Even late at night the security guard would grant her entrance and she would work in silence. The sound of the overhead lights as they automatically turned on as she walked through the building as well as the few computers that were left on at the end of the work day created a low buzz that was strangely soothing. The morning after a party was bound to make for an empty office.
Jane turned on her office light, shaking her head at how silly she was being. If she needed away from her boss and thoughts of her boss, coming to the office wasn't going to do the trick. Neither would bringing in this dress—the dress—that she could still feel Jacqueline's hands on. She carried the garment bag to the fashion closet, hanging it on the rack to be laundered. When she first borrowed a dress from the closet, she would have it dry cleaned herself. She had since learned that Scarlet had a much better cleaner.
Returning to her office, Jane turned on her Bluetooth speaker, sat down at her desk and began working out the details of a new column. The idea had come to her as she lay restless in her bed long after returning from the party. Fortunately, it had nothing to do with the workplace or unrequited love. Is it love? Shit, she groaned loudly to the empty office.
Having lost track of time, Jane was startled by the sounds outside her office. She hadn't heard the elevator, but she heard doors opening and closing. While she wondered who had wandered in, she returned to the article on her screen. The editing was always her least favorite part and yet she often did a decent enough job that little was required of Jacqueline. Jacqueline.
"You do know it is Saturday, right?" the woman stood in the doorway, in what amounted to casual clothing for Jacqueline.
"I write when the ideas strike me," Jane smiled. "What brings you in on a Saturday?"
"I returned accessories to the closet. I can't be trusted with them around the house. Rather, they can't be trusted in a house with two busy boys and an equally busy dog."
"Funny, I could say the same about Kat and Sutton," the writer chuckled.
The tall blonde walked in. As she approached the desk, Jane could feel the pace of her heart ramp up.
"What are you working on?" she asked.
"It may be something or it may be nothing."
The way Jane shrugged reminded her mentor of the early days of their professional relationship when the writer lacked confidence in every idea she had.
"Can I take a look?" Jacqueline nodded toward the screen.
Despite the anxiety she felt, Jane found herself nodding. She stood from her chair to offer it to Jacqueline who gestured for her to stay. The editor looking around and saw the foot stool near the couch. Pulling it over, Jacqueline sat on it next to the writer.
Jane couldn't help watch Jacqueline as she took in every word on the screen. Once, the woman glanced over and saw Jane watching her, and winked. When her eyes returned to the text, the editor's expression changed subtly. Her hand landed on the young woman's thigh, squeezing it gently. She did not pull it back. Jane stopped watching Jacqueline's expressions and began watching that perfect hand. When she realized it was the very hand that had been at the small of her back the night before, warmth carried over her body.
"This is superb, Jane," Jacqueline actually looked as if she might cry. "Truly."
The blonde gave the young woman's thigh one more squeeze as they looked at each other. Then she found Jane's hand on the arm of the chair. That touch was electric. Feeling as if she had been shocked, the writer pulled her hand back.
"Dammit, you have to stop!" Jane cracked.
"Jane?" Jacqueline looked confused and worried.
"Don't pretend you don't know exactly what you are doing. You can't touch me like this."
Pushing her chair back to put distance between them, Jane felt trapped in the corner behind her desk.
"I'm sorry…?" the editor stood from the stool and backed up. "I didn't realize you were uncomfortable. I…it won't happen again."
There was a hurt look on the older woman's face that made Jane feel terrible. She should have believed Sutton when she said one of them would either combust or crack. The timing was terrible. If Jane hadn't run into Jacqueline in the office on a Saturday, by Monday she would have had herself composed and they would have been fine. But would they have? Maybe until the next touch. And there would have been a next touch.
"I'll go," Jacqueline retreated. "See you on Monday, Jane. We can talk about your article at the pitch meeting."
The professional façade that slipped right into place made Jane's stomach twist. Jacqueline walked out of the office without a word.
###
Jane sat with her forehead on the desk for several long minutes. She was kicking herself for reacting the way she had instead of forcing a conversation about whatever was going on. The hurt she saw on Jacqueline's face had left Jane sick to her stomach. A door opened and steps could be heard making their way across the otherwise silent office. Jane knew from the acoustics that the next door to open was the fashion closet. When that door opened once again and steps began crossing the expanse of the office again, she didn't look up for fear of making eye contact with the editor through the glass wall of her office. Jacqueline's office door opened once again and when it closed Jane felt a sense of finality that made her feel like sobbing.
She could no longer take it. The fear that Jacqueline might hate her was wrapping around her heart. The knowledge that the touching would end was equally painful. She felt horrid for taking out her frustration on the woman.
Standing from her desk, Jane exited her own office and took the few steps toward another equally familiar glass-walled office. The editor's back was to her. Opening the door quietly, Jane noticed perfect shoulders—one of which she had traced with her fingers while it was bare—rising and falling with a deep breath.
"Jacqueline?" she said her name softly.
The blonde closed her eyes briefly before turning around to face Jane. She knew the writer well enough to know there would be an apology and likely not one that totally explained what had happened. Why had today been different? Why had a simple touch to the young woman's hand caused Jane to freak out? She had done everything she could to stay within the boundaries of her responsibility as editor-in-chief. Had the dancing truly ruined everything?
"You don't owe me an apology, Jane," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You don't even owe me an explanation. If anyone is at fault here it is me."
Jane took several steps toward the older woman without saying a word. Internally she was pin-balling between abject terror, a panic attack and, she closed her eyes for a second with the poorly timed realization, arousal.
"I have become too comfortable with you and I promise to maintain proper—"
As Jacqueline was struggling over wording the way the writer typically did in these situations, Jane advanced and her finger found its way to the other woman's lips. She pressed it there to silence Jacqueline, something she knew the editor had only wished she could do to Jane on numerous occasions. This action was riddled with tension. Hazel eyes looked into pools of blue, attempting to read the small movements as Jacqueline looked at her in confusion, consternation and something else the younger woman hadn't been privy to see before now.
"My outburst was your fault, in a way. Not because you had crossed a line. Not because you were behaving radically different than usual. It was your fault because of how you make me feel. If you had done something totally inappropriate, threatened or harassed me, I never could have felt what I did. If you were that kind of person, I never would have felt the way I did—do. It's your fault because it is your touch that leaves me undone, Jacqueline. You have always offered a hand in comfort. You have brushed a hand over my shoulder or forearm. We have even hugged on occasion. All completely innocent at the time. But Jacq, it doesn't feel innocent anymore. If not on your part, then entirely on mine. When you touch me, the feelings I have are no longer innocent. The thoughts that I have are far from innocent. And occasionally I think you see that. If you haven't, then I have read you wrong and that is what I will apologize for—Misunderstanding you."
Jane lowered her hand, but didn't step back and out of Jacqueline's space.
"Are you done saying what you need to?" Jacqueline asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I wasn't clear enough that I didn't need an explanation?"
Jane shook her head. She closed her eyes for a beat and braced herself for whatever might be said. When she opened them, the editor had stepped closer and was reaching out a hand of her own to place a single finger beneath Jane's chin to tilt her head up. She had to see the young woman's beautiful, telling eyes. Their eyes met; a soft smile graced Jacqueline's features.
"You haven't misunderstood me, Jane," she spoke.
The writer—the writer—was out of words. She leaned in and met Jacqueline's lips with her own. Thankful for the hands that offered a steadying force when they found her hips, Jane explored the woman's lips whilst standing on trembling legs. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. The only sensations she felt were that thrumming, the hands grasping her hip bones and everything Jacqueline's lips offered.
When they broke for a split second of air, Jane's hands went to the back of the blonde's neck where she entwined her fingers in the soft hair with satisfaction. The editor smiled into the kiss as she felt those hands where they had been less than twenty-four hours before as they danced. She still couldn't believe she summoned the courage to ask Jane Sloan to dance.
Lacing her own fingers together, Jacqueline's hands came to rest at the small of the writer's back and relaxed as their kiss slowed and they returned their focus to breathing. Jane's curious eyes continued to attempt to read the movements of the most enigmatic blue eyes she had ever seen.
"These…touches," Jacqueline's voice was low and rich with texture. "They might be problematic going forward."
Jane suspected she knew why her boss was saying so. Not because of prying eyes. None of the staff had ever commented on the closeness of the two women's working relationship. Jacqueline Carlyle was admitting to weakness. Jacqueline Carlyle.
"You're afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me," Jane smirked.
The blonde was actually blushing. Jane's hands more or less mirrored Jacqueline's own, refusing to leave the back of the older woman's neck just as hands had not left the small of her back. The position reminded her so much of their dance, though now their breasts were firmly against one another's.
"I am afraid a slight touch, however innocent, might be flirting with temptation," the editor admitted.
"And here I was afraid once you knew how I felt you would hate me and the touching would stop. It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't hate me and still the touching would stop," Jane teased.
"I could never hate you."
The sincerity with which Jacqueline spoke made Jane's stomach flip.
"And I didn't say the touching had to stop," Jacqueline hummed. "Outside of the office, touching may become a requirement."
"But not a job requirement. Noted."
Blonde hair shook side to side as she chuckled airily. Her cheek found Jane's and she pulled the woman even closer until they were holding each other in an embrace that held such promise and, for both women, such relief. Neither would admit how desperately they had wanted something so simple as an embrace.
-finis-
