Page 52 of Magdalene Nox

Including Sam’s fresh and clean face as she emerged from the shower in a pair of gray, low-hanging sweats—lord, have mercy—and a ratty t-shirt that had holes larger than a nickel and tempted Magdalene to make them just a touch larger by sticking her fingers in them and reaching for that still damp pale skin she’d once kissed and touched and licked…

And now she was officially driving herself crazy.

Sam smiled openly, a little too cheerfully, and that finally drew Magdalene out of her thoughts, which were entirely inappropriate for the occasion. Sam was clearly not taking any of this seriously.

“You still think this is all nothing?” She knew her voice was jagged, but the devil-may-care expression on Sam’s face did not bode well for the conversation they really should have had some time ago.

Sam blinked, running a towel through that sun-kissed hair, and Magdalene turned away, curling her fingers so as to not give into the temptation to reach out and untangle the tresses herself.

“I never thought it was nothing. After all, three lightbulbs in a hallway do not magically stop working by themselves. I just sort of moved past it with no new incidents in the few weeks since. But I am really struggling to come up with a reason a person—any person—would come after me like this. And okay, the slippery, wet floor… I could’ve hit my head or potentially hurt myself like Lily, but being electrocuted is a huge escalation from a bump on the noggin. And we really don’t know what happened with the wires, anyway.”

Magdalene wasn’t entirely certain what she wanted to do more, laugh or cry. Why was this woman so adorable? So absolutely bewitching?

“Did you just say ‘noggin’? Did I hear you right?”

Sam’s suddenly embarrassed expression finally pushed Magdalene over the edge of endurance, and she allowed herself to take a few steps closer and for her fingers to dive into the warm, wet, honeyed silk of Sam’s hair.

The sensation of the burnished gold in her hand was like drinking water after dying of thirst. Magdalene perhaps should have yanked her hand away, because the danger of becoming addicted was way too great, except she just stood there, caressing the damp tresses.

In the absence of electricity—the entire building still being shrouded in darkness after the incident outside—the room was illuminated by a few candles, and Sam’s sculpted face, all shadow and sharp angles, was a delightful study in their warm, flickering light. So beautiful, so doomed. Like an angel, destined to fall… The answering look of longing that met Magdalene’s eyes spoke volumes about said descent.

And what would happen when Sam took the leap? What would happen when loyalties and lust tore her in different directions? Magdalene didn’t know what she wished for more. For Sam to finally take the plunge or for her to abandon her principles?

“Your strange and antiquated use of language aside, I think you’re forgetting a major clue here, Elektra.”

Magdalene let her voice drop low, almost involuntarily, the intimacy of the moment drawing her deeper into the candlelight and the wet of soft silk in her hand. Sam leaned into the touch, eyes closed, almost like a purring cat, and Magdalene bit her lip to not smile overtly. This was such a sensuous sight. Then Sam opened her eyes, and the sensuous turned nerd on a dime.

“Let’s set aside your complete butchering of Marvel Comics, since Elektra had very little to do with electricity of any kind, and celebrate that you are even aware of her existence—”

This was a full-on assault on her system. The total adorableness paired with the involuntary sultriness of this woman… Magdalene could only take so much. She brought a finger to Sam’s lips, regretting it instantly, because the contact rocked her to her core. Such a simple touch, yet her body recognized it, knew it, had felt it before, and the need to experience it again was overwhelming.

What had she been trying to say? Ah…

“I am well aware that Elektra Natchios is of Greek descent, hence her name, and wields a pair of sai as her trademark weapons of choice and has nothing to do with electricity. I am also aware that she’s Daredevil’s girlfriend, so maybe my attempted analogy was doubly inappropriate, but I felt in the moment that the name fit.”

Sam gaped, her lips moving silently against Magdalene’s finger. With a grin, she booped Sam’s nose and stepped back triumphantly. She had won this round fair and square. And on top of the high of victory, she loved the effect she had on Sam and how Sam didn’t even bother to hide it.

“Okay,” Sam whispered and licked her lips, as if chasing the feeling of skin on skin, and Magdalene struggled not to touch her again. “You just got a hundred hot points.”

Magdalene laughed, pure delight taking hold of her despite the darkness that had gained ground all around them.

“I wasn’t aware there was a scoring system. And I also wasn’t aware I hadn’t earned all the points yet.”

Sam joined her in laughter, and it felt good to be sharing this moment, the two of them, away from prying eyes and gossiping mouths.

“I’m a teacher, Sam. I taught for ten years before taking up administration exclusively as a full-time job later in my career. Truth be told, during those years, I enjoyed teaching much more than the administrative side of my job, but eventually, the pressure of management became too much, and I had to give up teaching to serve as Headmistress. I’ve been around children my entire life. Some of their more dubious pursuits—such as comics—were bound to rub off on me. And I had to keep up, couldn’t let some snot-nosed rascal outwit me. Plus, as you said, the hot points.”

Sam, who’d made herself comfortable sitting cross legged on the bed while Magdalene spoke, beckoned her and she relented, stopped her pacing, and sat down beside her.

“I think there’s more to it than keeping pace with snot-nosed rascals.” The scent of a minty soap and pure Sam, that underlying lily of the valley, was too much to resist, and Magdalene decided to take a risk and live a little as she grabbed the hand that was lying limply in Sam’s lap, intertwining their fingers.

She kept silent for a moment longer and took in how perfectly their hands fit together.

Puzzle pieces…

And maybe because of her inability to shake that sensation of belonging, of fitting in—even if it was just their entwined fingers—Magdalene felt that compulsion again. The urge to be known, to truly open herself up and let Sam in once again.

“I’ve had kids who were utterly uninterested in real life, having been abused and abandoned or simply neglected to the point where reality meant very little to them. Imaginary worlds gave them back their will to live and allowed them to thrive. Comic books have been telling stories of strength and heroism and redemption for years. Sure, female representation has only come up to snuff recently, but overall, it clamors for children’s attention just as much as any other literary medium.”

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