"Come on, we need to get dressed - that's if you want to meet my mother." She grinned, leaped up off the bed, and pulled on her jeans, no underwear. I struggled to sit up as I was still tethered.
"Megan, I can't move." Her grin widened and leaning down she kissed my lips.
"Another first," she acknowledged, but I had no idea what she was talking about.
"I have no clean clothes in here." I was filled with sudden panic, and considering what I'd just experienced, I was finding the panic overwhelming. Her mother. Holy shit. I had no clean clothes, and she'd practically walked in on us. "Perhaps I should stay here."
"Oh no you don't," Megan threatened. "You can wear something of mine." She slipped on a bra then a t-shirt and ran her hand through her just fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lost my train of thought. Her beauty was derailing. "Get dressed. I'll just go calm her down. I will expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise, I'll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you're wearing." She eyed me speculatively for a moment, then she left the room.
This was so much more than I bargained for. Perhaps meeting her will help put a little part of the jigsaw in place. Might help me understand why Megan was the way she was and suddenly I wanted to meet her. I found my blue bra from the night before and went into Megan's closet. Selecting one of her t-shirts, I dressed my top half quickly. I rifled through Megan's chest of drawers and came across her collection of underwear. After pulling on a pair of tight gray Calvin Klein boyshorts, I tugged her leggings and her socks.
Grabbing my jacket, I dashed into the bathroom and stared at my too-bright eyes, my flushed face, and my hair. Struggling unto my jacket, pleased that the cuffs covered the tell-tale patterns from her tie, I took a last anxious glance at myself in the mirror. This would have to do. I made my way into the main living room.
"Here she is." Megan stood from where she was lounging on the couch. Her expression was warm and appreciative. The woman beside her turned and beamed at me, a full smile. She stood too. She was impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She looked groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I died a little, knowing I looked such a mess.
"Mother, this is Beyoncé Knowles. Beyoncém this is Holly Trevelyan-Pete." Dr. Trevelyan-Pete held her hand out to me.
"What a pleasure to meet you," she murmured. If I wasn't mistaken, there was wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her eyes. I grasped her hand, and I couldn't help but smile, returning her warmth.
"Dr. Trevelyan-Pete," I murmured.
"Call me Holly," she grinned. "I'm usually Dr. Trevelyan, and Mrs. Pete is my mother in law," she winked. "So how did you two meet?" She looked questioningly at Megan, unable to hide her curiosity.
"Beyoncé interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I'm conferring the degrees there this week." I'd forgotten that.
"So you're graduating this week?" Holly asked.
"Yes."
"I've not been here for a while," Megan said, snapping me out of my thoughts. This morning seemed to have been a distant memory as we sat in this small intimate restaurant for lunch. "We don't get a choice - they cook whatever they've caught or gathered." She raised her eyebrows in mock horror, and I had to laugh. The waitress took our drinks order. She flushed when she saw Megan, avoiding eye contact with her.
"Two glasses of Pinot Grigio." I pursed my lips, exasperated. "What?" she snapped.
"We're day drinking now?"
