A/N: Yet another thing I didn't like in 50SoG: Masking tape, really? Duct Tape is so much better for bondage!

A/N #2: Removed the "one of these days, you'll say yes" conversation with Paul. That is just too much rape culture for any female protagonist in the 21st century to ignore/'let down easy'. She had a boundary and apparently he kept pushing it for years. And if she loved Tess of the d'Urbervilles so much, she must have seen what could be coming next.

Shop Talk and Coffee

I'm shocked as a familiar voice distracts me as I'm flipping through the different web pages open on my phone, bored as there wasn't anything to do at work yet. It's like detention for money.

"Miss Hollis, I do not believe my eyes." I put my phone away, expecting to hear my boss ask me to sweep the floors again or something. I turn to face the dark curls and darker eyes of Carmilla Karnstein, CEO and possible stalker.

"Ms. Karnstein! What are you doing here?"

"Since I was already on the campus, I wanted to check in on the research project I'm funding. And I wanted to grab a coffee. Would you care to join me for a cup?"

I stammered, knowing I should look busy. "I really should be working..."

She whispered to me conspiratorially. "I asked the manager if I could borrow you for a bit and get some first-hand knowledge about the rising costs of textbooks. I've been thinking of a way to subsidize the reading materials on a sliding scale based on need. Or I could leave you to your Snape/Ron fanfic that you were reading. Honestly, if you can handle a hetero pairing, I'd recommend something by snape-submiss."

I blushed furiously as I nodded and she lead us out of the bookstore and over to the coffee shop across the street. God, she knows I like fanfiction now, she must think... She just recommended an author to me.

"Why don't you choose a table, while I get the drinks. What would you like?" She asks, polite as ever. I winced at the question, feeling awkward in my request.

"I'll have... um - English Breakfast tea?"

She raises her eyebrows. "No coffee?"

"I'm not a fan of coffee."

She smiles. "Here I thought the 'Friends' generation would all be slaves to coffee. But alright, tea. Sugar?"

"No thanks." I stare down at my knotted fingers.

"Anything to eat?"

"No thank you." I shake my head, and she heads to the counter.

I surreptitiously gaze at her from beneath my lashes as she stands in line waiting to be served. I could watch her all day... She's tall, slim, confident, and the way that skirt hugs her curves... Oh my. Once or twice she runs her long, graceful fingers through her curly hair. Hmm... I'd like to do that. The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip and stare down at my hands again not liking where my wayward thoughts are headed. Stop thinking of her like that, she probably just wants to ask a scholarship recipient working part time about how I afford my books.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Karnstein is back, startling me.

I go crimson. I can't just say, 'I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair and wondering if it would feel soft to the touch.' I shake my head. She hands me a paper cup, lid covering it and a string dangling from it labeled 'Twinings English Breakfast' - my favorite. She has some fancy coffee which has a hint of chocolate and raspberry. She must have a sweet tooth. She sits opposite me and crosses her long legs, tip of her shoe grazing my ankle. She looks so comfortable and so at ease with her body; I envy her.

"Your thoughts?" She prompts me.

"This is my favorite tea." My voice is quiet, breathy. I simply can't believe I'm sitting opposite Carmilla Karnstein in a coffee shop at Silas. She frowns. She knows I'm hiding something. I pop the teabag out of the cup and toss it away.

"I like my tea black and weak," I mutter as an explanation.

"I see. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Whoa... What?

"What? Why do you think that?"

"The way you just came and interviewed me even though you were unprepared and nervous. I thought you and Betty must be-"

I laugh, nervous yet baffled. What gave her that impression?

"No. She's been my roommate since freshman year and is a good friend of mine, that's all. Why did you think I would have a girlfriend?" She's fishing for details still, Hollis. Two birds with one stone.

"The way you dropped everything for her, right before exams. And the way you look at women." Her dark brown gaze holds mine. She's so unnerving. I want to look away but I'm caught - spellbound.

"She's more like family," I whisper.

Karnstein nods slightly, seemingly satisfied with my response, and glances down at her coffee. I blink a few times and tend to my own tea. Her long fingers wrap around her coffee cup, and I watch, fascinated. Why am I fascinated with her fingers?

"Do you want something?" She asks, and that amused, secret smile is back. I feel like I can't keep track of time around her.

"Um, no. This is nice." We chatted a bit about the pros and cons of used book sales versus book rentals as I drank in her appearance and sipped my beverage.

Before long I had finished my tea and tossed it into the recycling bin. "Thank you for the tea, Ms. Karnstein."

"You're welcome, Laura. It's my pleasure. Here," She commands, holding out her card to me. I take it, bemused, and follow her out of the coffee shop.

We wait at the curb for the 'walk' sign. She at least looks her usual calm, collected self. As for me, I'm desperately trying to gauge how our little coffee meeting has gone. I feel like I've been interviewed for a position, but I'm not sure what it is.

"Do you always wear jeans?" She asks out of the blue.

"Um, yeah. Mostly."

She nods. My mind is reeling. What an odd question... And I'm aware that our time together is ending. This is it. I've completely blown it, I know. Perhaps she has someone.

"Well, do you have a girlfriend?" I blurt out. Holy crap - I just said that out loud?

Her lips quirk up in a half-smile, and she looks down at me.

"No, Laura. I don't do the... girlfriend... thing," She says softly.

Oh... what does that mean? She's not gay. Or maybe she is - she must have lied to me in her interview because she doesn't want to hurt her business. So maybe she can't be seen with a woman on her arm? For a moment, I think she's going to follow up with an explanation, some clue to her cryptic statement - but she doesn't.

I'm over-thinking all of this. I have to go. I have to get away from her. I see the bookstore and cross the road, knowing I'll feel better once I'm back at work.

"Shit, Laura!" She cries. She grabs me by my waist and pulls me back onto the curb as a cyclist whips past, barely missing me.

It was all a blur - one minute I'm stepping away, the next I'm in her arms, and she's holding me tightly against her chest. I inhale her clean, vital scent. I can't place why but parts of me have clenched in anticipation. Oh my, it's intoxicating. I inhale deeply.

"Are you okay?" She whispers. She has one arm around my waist, clasping me to her, while the other hand slowly pushes us apart. She's staring into my eyes, and I hold her anxious, worried gaze for a moment or maybe it's forever... but eventually, my attention is drawn to her beautiful mouth. Oh my. And for the first time in twenty-one years, I want to be kissed. I want to feel her mouth on me.

Kiss me damn it! I implore her, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by her. I'm mesmerized by Carmilla Karnstein's exquisitely sculptured mouth, lips red as rubies, and she's looking down at me, her gaze hooded, her eyes darkening.

She's breathing harder than usual, and I've stopped breathing altogether.

Kiss me, please. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives me a small shake of her head as if in answer to my silent question. When she opens her eyes again, it's with some new purpose, a steely resolve has taken hold as if she slammed a door to her heart.

"Laura, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the one for you," She whispers.

What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown up at her, and my head swims with rejection.

"Breathe, Laura, breathe. I'm going to help you cross the road and then let you go," She says quietly, and she gently pulls me across. The way she said 'let you go' seemed almost painful.

Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady proximity to Carmilla, leaving me wired and weak. NO! My psyche screams as she pulls away barely leaving her hands on my shoulders at arm's length, watching my reactions carefully. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and she didn't do it. She doesn't want me. She really doesn't want me. I have royally screwed up whatever we were doing just now.

"I've got this," I breathe, finding my voice. "Thank you," I mutter awash with humiliation. How could I have misread the situation between us so utterly? I need to get away from her.

"For what?" She frowns. She hasn't taken her hands off me. My fingers trail hers, and that unmistakable energy is still there between us.

"For saving me," I whisper.

Whatever emotions that were on her face was now gone. She went so neutral not even Voldemort could get in with Legilimancy.

"That lack-wit was riding the wrong way. I'm glad I was here; I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you need anything?" She releases me, her hands by her sides, and I'm standing in front of her feeling like a fool.

With a shake, I clear my head. I just want to go. All my vague, un-articulated hopes have been dashed. She doesn't want me. What would Carmilla Karnstein want with you? My subconscious mocks me. I wrap my arms around myself and turn to face the road to see where I was almost plowed into the pavement, conscious that Karnstein is behind me. Outside the bookstore, I turn briefly to face her but cannot look her in the eye.

"Thanks for the tea and the ride." I murmur.

"Laura... I... " She stops, and the anguish in her voice demands my attention, so I peer unwillingly up at her. Her dark eyes are bleak as she runs her hand through her hair.

She looks torn, frustrated, her expression stark, all her careful control has evaporated.

"What, Carmilla?" I snap irritably after she says - nothing. I just want to go. I need to take my fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health. She clenches her jaw at the sound of her given name.

"God, what am I doing?" She murmurs, letting out a shaky sigh. "Good luck with your exams."

Huh? This is why she looks so desolate? This is the big send off? Just to wish me luck in my exams?

"Thanks." I can't disguise the sarcasm in my voice. "Goodbye, Ms. Karnstein."

The rest of the week was a blur of studying, writing essays, and sleeping whenever I could. Betty's article on Carmilla Karnstein was a hit, and she's guaranteed a paid internship with the school paper for her senior year. Good for her.

After my last final was done, I checked my mail only to find a package waiting for me. Odd. I haven't ordered anything from Amazon recently.That's when I realize there's Amazon markings on it, either. Just Laura Hollis. There's no sender's address or name. Perhaps it's from daddy.

"It's probably from my dad." I explain as Betty looks at it with interest.

"Open it!" Betty says as she heads into the kitchen for our 'Exams are finished hurrah!' Champagne.

I open the parcel, and inside I find a box containing a very well-preserved early printing of The Picture of Dorian Grey. Written on a white note card, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:

"You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."

"That looks really expensive. Wow, she's full of herself." Betty says as we both realize who may have sent it.

"It's a quote from the book." I inform her.

"What is Karnstein trying to say?"

"I think it's a warning - for some reason she keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It's not like I'm beating her door down." I frown.

"I know you don't want to talk about her, Laura, but she's seriously into you. Warnings or no."

I agree with her as I shake my head. "I can't accept these from her. I'll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book." I think about it and decide on a lengthier quote in reply:

"To realize one's nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one's self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. "

I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. Betty hands me a glass of champagne.

"Well, enough with her. To the end of exams and our final summer of freedom," she grins.

"Hear, hear." We clink glasses and drink.