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Janice Covington shifted uncomfortably on the floor of her tent. Everything on this dig was planned out down to the penny, since she hadn’t exactly started out with a pile of venture capital… Unfortunately, this meant there weren’t any provisions for unexpected guests like the dark-haired beauty whose feet were currently sticking out over the end of Janice’s cot. If it had been a man, he could have taken the bunk of the worker I lost earlier today, the archaeologist thought with regret. But Melinda Pappas was all woman.
And is she ever, the blonde mused as she glanced over to the cot. At first, the southerner had protested her hospitality, offering to sleep on the floor herself, then offering to try and share the cot. A flutter of confused embarrassment had crossed the elegant features at Janice’s too-quick refusal. I couldn’t exactly tell her that being so close to her all night would probably drive me crazy… let’s see if we can’t put off the conversation about me being ‘that way’ until we know each other a little better, huh? “I ah… I can’t get any sleep unless I can spread out; I’ll be better down here,” she’d covered lamely.
The brunette rolled over in her sleep, pushing the sheet off to reveal a bare leg. She hadn’t planned to stay at the dig site more than a few hours and certainly hadn’t brought a change of clothes, but all the confusion with Ares had left the hour too late for them to call a hired car. The tired southerner had agreed to wait for morning and the return of Janice’s day laborers so that the archaeologist could drive her into town herself and make more permanent arrangements. So here she was, sleeping in her rumpled dress shirt and the skirt that Xena had torn up the seams. The split laid bare a firm, seemingly endless thigh, all the way up to – Janice turned away.
Careful. When she looked at Melinda for too long, Janice felt a strange loosening sensation in her chest, like something was unraveling inside her. And a not-so-strange tightening sensation somewhere below that. I hope I can actually handle this ‘partners’ thing, she mused as she pulled her hat over her face and waited for sleep.
Melinda awoke slowly, like coming up from the bottom of the ocean. Sounds came first – outdoors sounds, and the scuffling sounds of manual work. The light against her unwilling eyelids told her that the sun would already be fairly high in the sky. Then it all came to her at once – she was in Macedonia, out on Janice Covington’s dig site, in Janice Covington’s tent… and feeling quite a draft. Mel opened her eyes to look down and quickly pulled the thin sheet over herself, adjusting the skirt that was somehow twisted and bunched around her waist. A blush touched her cheeks, but she was mollified by the sight of Janice with her hat brim over her eyes, oblivious to the whole thing.
She’s actually a pretty gal, Mel thought as she watched Janice’s relaxed face, or what she could see of it. Younger than I reckoned, probably. The archaeologist’s breath was heavy with sleep; she could hear the almost-snores that kept steady time. Golden hair spilled out from under the battered and now ventilated hat, framing the unlined face and curling gently against shoulders and neck. The young woman’s lips were pink and looked soft – Now where-all did that come from? Mel wondered, embarrassed again. She gathered her stockings and shoes and began putting herself together as best she could.
“Ugh, five more minutes…” Janice groaned and pulled her hat more firmly over her face, then sat up when she remembered she had a guest. “’Morning, sweetheart.” She stretched her small frame, craning her neck around until it produced a jarring pop. “Ahh, that’s better.”
Mel winced. “Janice – do you have to do that?”
“Not anymore,” came the cheerful reply. “Here, lemme brush my teeth and then I’ll drive you back to town. You can borrow my comb.”
The tall woman thanked her and bent to re-style her hair in the tarnished mirror. “I guess I’m gonna need some new clothes if I’m gonna help ya finish out this dig,” she ventured conversationally.
A muffled chortle answered her. “’ou ca’ sheh ‘a’ ‘gen – ” Janice spit in the washbasin and cleared her throat – “You can say that again, sister. And we need another cot. …Have you been out on a dig before?”
Mel straightened, defensive. “A few times, when my daddy was still an assistant professor. I may not know quite how y’all do it here, but I’ve got the idea.” She waited for the other woman to paint her as a dizzy southern belle, but was pleasantly surprised.
“I’m sorry. I should have guessed. I was just wondering, y’know, after that business with the suit.” She indicated the torn seams of Mel’s skirt.
“Well, I’d just been on the aeroplane… barely stopped a moment in town to throw my appert’nences in the hotel safe before I came out here.” The brunette looked down at herself and adjusted her skirt so that the edge of her stocking was at least closer to being covered. “I didn’t really know what-all to expect, I just found that telegram and had a feelin’.” She paused, seeing that they had both finished getting ready, and cast a doubtful glance back towards the cot. “Think they make these things in ‘extra-long’?”