56 comments/ 180632 views/ 334 favorites A Little Hug By: PygmyCoho This story received a minor edit in the epilog based on an anonymous reader's suggestion. To you, and to all of you who have enjoyed this story, "Thank You!" }:o) * Rachael began her junior year as a transfer from another high school. She seemed timid and perfectly happy to remain under the radar. In fact, there were times when I had to search for her amid the tide of students flowing through the hallways between classes. In retrospect, I completely misjudged her . . . Since Rachael was not the type to be drawn into a clique it meant she remained a bit of a loner. That left her vulnerable. One day two of the "popular girls" singled Rachael out for their brand of hazing. I happened to round a corner of the hallway just as the snotty blonde slapped an armload of books out of Rachael's grasp. It made me angry. Rachael did not deserve that sort of treatment—no one did. I waded in and broke up the altercation. I was about to send some people to the principal's office when Rachael spoke. "It's okay, Ms. DeWitt. We were just kidding around." "That's not how it looked to me." I glared at the perpetrators. Tiffany, the blonde, looked at the floor. Her friend, Sara, said, "That's right. We were just jokin' around." Her response came a little too quickly. My eyes held her gaze for a few seconds before she, too, was unable to meet my stare. "Really, Ms. DeWitt, it's all good," Rachael confirmed. Then, under her breath, "Please." My head turned to her. The plea in her eyes was too compelling. "All right, ladies. But just remember that sometimes joking can look like something else entirely. And every event, even a small one, might trigger an unintended consequence. Understand?" I hoped I sounded menacing enough. Everyone nodded. There were mumbled assents, too. Tiffany continued studying the floor tiles as though they held the secret to life itself. "Now, I'm sure all of you have a class. I suggest you go there. Now." I thought of helping Rachael with her books but felt that act could be interpreted as favoritism and might make her more of a target. It seemed best to just leave. I worried then, but before the second semester ended Rachael made peace with Tiffany and Sara. Perhaps it was the other way around. Regardless, they all seemed polite enough to each other. I even saw them studying together a couple of times. I'm sure the two girls reaped some scholastic benefit from the interactions because Rachael turned out to be an excellent student. * * * * * * * Rachael had yet to grow into her beauty that first year. She possessed a certain "cuteness" and wore it without conscious thought. In fact, I often wondered if she realized just how attractive she was. When given the chance her thick ebony curls spilled down to the small of her back. More often, though, she twisted her hair into a bun or tied it back in a simple ponytail. Her chosen fashion consisted of jeans and t-shirts. But shimmering dark eyes, high cheekbones, white teeth and cleft chin all bode well for her future. As the school year ended Rachael's metamorphosis had just begun. Over the summer Rachael catapulted from cute to beautiful. She left for summer a slim, almost gangly junior—sort of an adorable nerd. But senior Rachael returned flaunting killer curves. She apparently received her woman's body upon turning eighteen! Her hourglass figure started at sculpted shoulders and a lovely pair of breast, tapered to a flat tummy and trim waist, and flared into a delightful set of hips. When she strolled down the hallways, the swing of those hips highlighted a bottom that was rounded, trim, perky and squeezable all at once. Her new beauty had a profound effect on most boys, and seemed to stir many of the girls, too. I sighed after her more than a couple of times myself. But Rachael carried on as though she was completely unaware of the attention. Early in that second year I saw her teased once or twice. Rachael would flash her delightful smile, perhaps offer a quip, and disarm her assailant without causing hard feelings. Those rare displays, worthy of a seasoned diplomat, were unheard of in high school. They were also effective and the taunting stopped within days. Truth be told, however, I doubt anyone felt all that motivated to harass her in the first place. She still avoided the cliques yet somehow managed to be popular nonetheless. She reminded me of a hostess who could move seamlessly from one group to another, belonging to each one in turn without becoming entrapped. Maybe her popularity was because she avoided the cliques. Or maybe it stemmed from Rachael's kindhearted nature. Her sunny disposition rarely faltered. She could find something positive about anyone, a trick even I envied. To say that she had blossomed, physically and socially, would have been gross understatement. All this made her stand out from so many girls who seemed bent on paddling through a morose sea of high school angst. Her classwork excelled, too, as I witnessed firsthand when she got to my class. College preparatory physics could be trying for students, but her probing questions demonstrated real insight. There are pupils who keep us teachers on our toes, keep us striving to prepare for subjects we think we already know lest they ask us something we cannot answer. Rachael epitomized just that sort of student. As awful as it sounds, there were some students that I was glad to see leave the school. Call me "human", I suppose. But there were many, many more whom I truly enjoyed teaching. I hoped they would keep in touch once in a while so I would know how life treated them. Rachael became the first, however, whose pending departure caused me true separation anxiety. No other student had ever affected me that way. The mere thought of never seeing her again generated a physical pain in my chest. So one May morning I gave my mirror a pep talk—and a mild rebuke for having such inappropriate emotions. I ignored those emotions as best I could and faced the term's last day. Before being labeled a complete love-fool let me state that I knew nothing could possibly happen between us. There were three strong and obvious obstacles: her age; my status as her teacher, and; her apparent lack of interest in . . . well, in me. Despite the stream of logic, though, part of me still hoped to see her after the school year ended. Nothing meaningful gets planned for the last day of my class. Instead there's a modest party with soft drinks, bottled waters, snacks, fruits and pastries. We share the students' plans for their summers, their colleges, their prospects and ambitions. It had been a tradition in my classes and the only rule was no one got to demean anyone. Some good, truly special moments came from those parties over the years. Attendance was not required so the turn out usually averaged about fifty percent. What can I say, seniors, right . . .? This time Rachael was one of the no-shows. At the bell most of the kids shuffled and made for the door. Some of the boys grabbed handfuls of food for their last trip down the halls. A few hangers-on milled around for a little while, only to trickle out as the mood changed from sentimental to awkward. And just like that the room became a void. I looked at the rows of seats, thought back over the year and found my gaze draped on Rachael's chair. It felt a little unsettling seeing it empty. "Don't be stupid," I muttered to myself. With an effort I put away the food, binned plastic bottles, and cleaned or disposed of the rest. Once in motion my thoughts of the raven-haired beauty waned a little. I had nearly finished when the door burst open. "Oh, thank God you're still here!" "Rachael?" "I'm sooo sorry I missed class—" "It wasn't mandatory." There was something about her mere presence that calmed me. I liked that feeling very much. "I know, but I sooo wanted to be here. I made a loaf of Italian fruit bread to, like, bring in, but my dog ate it before we could bake it and we had to take him to the vet 'cause his stomach, like, swelled up like a water balloon and— Why are you . . .? It's not funny!" she admonished, unable to stifle her own chuckles. "I'm sorry, Rachael, but, really? 'Ms. DeWitt, my dog ate my classwork'." "I know!" she giggled. "Is he okay?" "Yeah, but they had to pump his stomach, or whatever they do when a dog, like, eats something it's not supposed to. But he's okay. But when we finally got home and I drove here, it's now. And I'm late." I realized my face was split into a huge grin. Thank goodness I could, well, I could blame it on the dog! "You're not late at all." My voice sounded foreign to me, deep and husky, though I was not sure why. "So," I continued, "What are your plans?" I held a water bottle towards her and she nodded. "For summer, or after?" She took the water, twisted the top off and sipped at it. "Either. Both. Whatever you want to tell me." I caught myself staring at her lips on the bottle, and forced myself to look at her eyes instead. "Well, I'm taking the summer to travel. I'm going to drive to some of the places I want to see, like Yellowstone, and Mount Rushmore, the St. Louis Arch and The Alamo. Maybe New Orleans, Atlanta. Maybe even Washington, though my Mom says it's dangerous." "D.C., right?" She nodded, hair bouncing. I told her, "It can be a little risky at night, but you should be okay in the daytime." "Really? Okay, then D.C." "You're going with someone, aren't you?" "Oh, yeah, with my friend, Suzy—" I opened my mouth. "—and we'll be careful." I grinned. Her presentation was well-rehearsed, probably to get approval from her folks. "It sounds like a great trip, but you'd better send me postcards." "I can text you and send pics from my phone." "Humor me—I'm old fashioned." "'Kay. Promise." We smiled at one another. A random thought popped into my mind and I asked, "Do you remember that, um, that thing, with Tiffany and Sara last year?" "Yeah, I, uh, I never thanked you for, like, leaving that one alone. That was way cool. Thanks." "You're welcome. I thought of helping you pick up your books—" "No, I'm glad you didn't. Don't think it woulda helped, you know?" "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But I have to ask—what was that about?" "Oh, it was all a mix-up. They thought I was trying to, like, get between, a . . . couple. But it worked out okay. We even hang sometimes. They're both going away to college in Boulder so we probably won't see each other too much anymore." "I bet you helped them get the grades so they were accepted." Rachael shook her head. "Nah." "Maybe just a little?" She shrugged and held up her thumb and forefinger so they were very close together. We laughed. "And what about you? I hope you're going to college." My voice sounded as stern as I could make it to emphasize my point. But the thought of her leaving town was dreadful. "Well, I got accepted at the University." Her feet kept moving as though she could not remain still. "You're not going away?" I tried to hide my relief. "Nope. Right here. Dad didn't want to, like, pay out-of-state tuition." She did a little, unconscious dance step. She sipped her water and set the bottle on her desk. "Hmm, good reason, I suppose. Especially since the U's really a good institution. You'll do well." There had to be something else; Rachael seemed ready to burst. "Yeah, and I got an academic scholarship!" Her feet shuffled as she clapped. I clapped with her. "That's how come I could buy a car and get, like, money for the summer trip!" "Oh, Rachael, that's great. I knew you had so much potential." "I remember you telling me." She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. It happened so quickly and was all too brief, but I will never forget the feel of her body against mine. Her firm breasts pressed into my fuller, softer mounds. The touch of her hips and lean, taut thighs against me made my legs rubbery. "Thank you," she whispered and pecked my cheek. My skin burned where her lips kissed me, and the warmth spread across the side of my face like a tiny wildfire. The very next moment she stepped back and it was over. But my mind and body still reeled from that hug. The effect was too profound, out of proportion to the act itself. It was the instant when I knew . . . . We chatted for a few more minutes; I still have no idea what we said. I do recall that she mentioned having to check on her dog just before she left, and we laughed again. The door swung closed. It was only then that I noticed how wet and sticky my panties felt. My legs remained weak and my face still tingled. I sat behind my desk and looked at the blotter. Then I looked at my breasts. My nipples stood erect and visible. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the chair with my arms crossed over my chest. How could a little hug and an innocent peck on the cheek set me off like that? I reached beneath my skirt and pulled the clinging fabric from my skin. But what I thought would relieve the mild discomfort of wet undies made my crotch sizzle instead. "Damn," I murmured. I gathered the leftovers, locked up and walked to my car. When I got home I left everything in the back seat, went inside, drew a bath and undressed. As I passed the mirror I caught sight of my body. My nipples remained hard, flushed and throbbing. I faced the glass and my eyes travelled over the reflection. My swollen lips glistened through their wispy brunette veil. With a shake of my head, I climbed into the tub and let the heat seep into my skin. My fingers stroked soapsuds across my breasts. The caress shot electricity from the stiffened tips through my tummy and into my pelvis. Each tweak and stroke fed the fire Rachael had kindled. Soon one hand arrived between my thighs and played. My lips parted easily and my fingers discovered just how swollen I had grown. A little teasing was not going to be enough for what I wanted, what I needed. As my hand explored and manipulated my fiery tip, other fingers curled inside me. My hesitant, exploratory rhythm grew more passionate and insistent. I watched my breasts floating in the sea of foam, nipples harder than ever. When I found my G my eyes rolled back and my head slipped downward to rest on the tub's edge. In my mind, Rachael was lying on top of me. Our mouths devoured one another's as our breasts rubbed together. Was that wet heat between my legs the bathwater, my juices, or our mounds sliding together in the climb to fulfillment? The fantasy seemed so real. I had a second to wonder before my body shook in the throes of a devastating climax. After another gratifying orgasm I toweled myself dry and slipped under the sheets. My hands danced across my skin and visited all the right spots. It took me three more heady cums, and various, delicious fantasies about Rachael, to fall into an exhausted sleep. * * * * * * * Rachael proved true to her word. I received a post card every few days from all the places she visited. I became certain the cards held traces of her perfume-soap scent that the random odors of their postal journeys could not quite obliterate. Those tenuous olfactory treats inspired some beautiful fantasies. During June I masturbated each time one of Rachael's notes arrived. It sounded as though she and her friend, Suzy, were discovering the world in that particular, singular fashion that can only happen when one is young. I was envious and proud, worried and approving, elated and heartbroken. How I wished it was me sitting next to Rachael for those miles and sites and experiences. The summer wore on and I finally gained some perspective. My desire moderated from near-obsession to a more manageable infatuation. By the time the new term started I had everything nicely compartmentalized. My overactive libido went into semi-remission, allowing me several nights of uninterrupted sleep. Just before Christmas, as I cleaned up after the winter class party, the door to my room swung open and a familiar figure stood there. My heart stopped for an instant before thudding so hard I thought Rachael would here it across the room. "Hi, Ms. DeWitt." "Rachael!" No jeans and t-shirts now—that dress set off her body like a fashion model. Her long tresses flowed over her shoulders, down her arms and back. She moved towards me and my mind flashed back to last summer's hug. I extended a hand instead. Her face flickered for a moment and she took my hand in both of hers. She gave me one of her radiant smiles, though her eyes appeared curious. Amused, and curious. "How are you? I got your cards. The trip sounded fantastic!" "I'm good. Yeah, it was awesome." She did not release my hand, and I did not want it back. Not yet. "The Arch was great, especially from the top. We got to look up the Presidents' noses at Mt. Rushmore. New Orleans was waaay cool and D.C. was awesome. The Alamo made me cry, though." "And how's Suzy?" "Suzy was fun for most of it, but we drifted apart after. She went to school in Florida and, well, I'm not ready for a long-distance, uh, friendship. You know what I mean?" "Yeah," I answered automatically. But I wondered if I really did know what she meant. She smiled and finally released her grip. My fingertips throbbed and my palm felt steamy. I think I was getting wet, too. "So, sit. Tell me, how's the U?" I retreated behind my desk and folded my arms over my breasts, just in case. "It's okay," she sighed. Rachael took her old seat. She pulled her hair back and her breasts thrust forward. I tried not to look . . . and failed. Then she crossed her legs. Her skirt slipped up past her knees and I could not help glancing at her bared thighs. Her new look made her incredibly sexy. I shuddered and peered into her face instead. She seemed to flash the tiniest unconscious smirk before her expression settled into a soft smile. "Just okay?" Her face changed again as she regained her train of thought. "Yeah. I mean, I like it and all. And most of my professors are pretty good . . . ." "—But?" "But . . . sometimes it feels, like, I don't know. Like it's a 'factory'?" "A factory?" "Yeah, you know. It seems like the classes are so big, you're just a number. It's different than, like, your class. I always felt special here. Now, it's kinda like I'm . . . ordinary, I guess." A reflexive burst of laughter escaped before I could control it. Rachael frowned. "I'm sorry, Rachael. But I cannot, ever, think of you as 'ordinary'. You are one of the most extraordinary people I've ever taught. Probably ever known." "Really?" "Have you talked with your folks about this?" "Yeah." "And they said?" "They said, 'Why don't you talk with Ms. DeWitt'." "Okay," I breathed, feeling my educator's duty had been met. "Well, um, where was I?" "How 'extraordinary' I am." She grinned like an imp. "Right!" I grinned right back. "You're absolutely extraordinary. And I would bet I'm not the only one who could say that. I've seen a lot of students through here and you had—have—something very, very special." "Really?" She seemed to relax. "Oh thank God. But why . . .?" "It's just the college experience. The numbers are different, so the, 'scale' I guess you'd call it, is different. But you, my dear, are not ordinary." "Thanks, Ms. DeWitt—" "Ms. Mitchell, you're not in my class anymore. Do you think you could call me Eileen?" "Eileen? Really?" Her faced scrunched up just a bit. "Yes. Whyyy?" "Eileen sounds kinda old-fashioned." She blushed. "I'm sorry. You're not old, or anything. I just meant—" "It's okay." I chuckled at her discomfort. "It was my grandmother's name." A Little Hug "No, it's pretty. It just—" "Sounds ordinary?" I interrupted. "No," Rachael giggled. "It just doesn't fit. At least not the 'you' I think of." Think of? Hmm . . . I liked the sound of that. "Well, my middle name is Rose. Is that any better?" "Rose," she murmured to herself. She chewed on her lower lip and suddenly I could not look away from her mouth. My body quivered with arousal. The insides of my thighs grew wet and hot, but there was nothing I could do about it. Not until I got home to my tub, or my bed, or . . . well—who am I kidding?—probably both. When the realization dawned that she was staring at me I finally shifted my gaze and met her eyes. "Yeah, Rose is perfect." Her mouth opened for an instant before her face blossomed into another winning smile. I struggled to find something neutral to discuss. "So, how're your grades?" "Good." She leaned back in her chair. "I won't have the last class grade for a couple of days. But the ones I know already are decent. My lowest was a high B, so I'm happy. So're my folks. And no problem with my scholarship, so life is not shitty. Oops, sorry." It was my turn to smile. "It's okay. I've heard worse. How's your dog?" She laughed. "Good. But no more bread dough for him!" We made a little more small talk. At one point her crossed leg began a slow swing. I know what that can do to a woman's anatomy. My eyes flicked to her chest—an unconscious response. Her nipples were visible; tiny, hard and tempting. I looked at Rachael's face; her cheeks wore a faint glow of color, but not the slightest hint of embarrassment clouded her deep irises. My mind tried to process this in light of my emotions for this girl. No, Rachael was no longer a girl. She was a young, vibrant and sensuous woman. But was she really doing what I thought she was doing? In front of me? And if so, would it be too ridiculous to hope it was because of me? I told myself, This silly fantasy is all just a byproduct of your smoldering infatuation. Time stretched and lost meaning. I still do not know how long we chatted. I just remember the sexual tension thickened in my mind until it threatened to trap me like an insect in amber. I thought the moment was ripe for ending my misery by kicking Rachael out of my room before something embarrassing happened. But I hated the idea and waited a little longer. Then a little longer again. At last she stood. "Thanks for talking with me, Rose. It really helped. Thank you." She took a step towards me. I stood, keeping the desk between us. It was my final strategy to avoid embarrassment. I felt like the ancient Chinese armies hiding behind their Great Wall. "Bye, Rachael. I hope you'll come, and . . ." I blushed. "You know, stop by and see me again. Soon." Her lips curved at the gaff, not the word but my stumble, and she leaned across the desk. Her hands rested on my shoulders and her lips brushed my cheek. "I will," she whispered. "Soon, 'kay? Promise." "'Kay." My voice sounded like, well, like a love-sick school girl's. It was mortifying! The cheek where Rachael kissed me burned long after she left the school grounds. That night was filled with heated fantasies of us making love. I feel asleep in a trembling heap on wet sheets, but with an exhausted grin and a satisfied glow. * * * * * * * That was how things went with Rachael and me for the next several months. She would visit at the end of the day and I would wind up completely smitten all over again. The effects would last from a few days to a week at a time. My fantasies always left me satisfied and spent. Then my libido tapered off and life for me approached normal again. One late spring day Rachael came to see me. My mood brightened, as it always did in her company, until I picked up on her emotional state. "Rachael, are you okay?" "I don't know, Rose. I, well, I'm a little mixed up about . . . stuff." "Oh? Okay. You, um, you want to talk? About it?" We sat facing one another; Rachael in "her" seat, and me behind my Great Wall desk. "Um, maybe. But, uh, you have to, um, well . . ." "What it is?" "Oh, Rose, I— That is," she stammered. In place of the usual smile her succulent lips remained pursed in a tight, tense line. She sighed and relaxed a little. "Rose, you know I'm, uh, that I like . . . girls, right?" I did not answer right away. Then, "I thought you might. But it doesn't matter. At least not to me." While I suspected, even hoped, I had never been entirely sure. My emotions quivered just beneath the surface. Where was this going? Then something tugged at my mind. "Rachael, um, sorry, but . . . Tiffany and Sara . . .?" She nodded. "Yeah, Tiff thought I was making eyes at Sara and got mad. But we all turned out okay. After a while, anyway." "I see. Sorry, you were saying?" "Oh, yeah. Well, I met someone. At school. But, my folks, I don't think they'd be okay with it." "I see." I struggled to continue as my chest imploded. "What they'd think about this—situation—matters to you, right?" She nodded. I asked, "A lot?" She nodded again. "Okay. How much do you, like, this, girl?" "I like her a lot, but she's not exactly a girl. She's older than me." "Okay." "Yeah, like, um seven, eight years older." "So she's about my age?" "I guess." "It's not me, is it?" The words spilled out before I could check myself. I hoped it sounded like a joke, and gave her a silly grin to try and reinforce that ruse. Her mouth smiled, but I could not be sure about her eyes. "No, Rose, it's not you." Did the answer bear a trace of disappointment, or was that my imagination, too? Damn it, I was making myself crazy! My hands felt restless so I interlaced the fingers and set them in front of me. "Lizzie, that's her name, Elizabeth. Anyway, Lizzie never finished college. So after she got laid off she decided to get her degree and find a career. We met in English Lit and have been out a few times. Not really, like, dates, or anything serious. Just hanging, you know?" I nodded. When I glanced at my hands the knuckles were white. I sent them to opposite sides of my blotter—neutral corners, if you will. "So, it sounds as though you two are getting along. What am I missing?" God, did that sound as annoyed to her as it did to me? "Well, it's just that I don't know if I, you know, like her enough to, like, to have her, meet, my folks." "I see. You don't know if she's special enough to 'come out' to your parents over her, right?" "Yeah," she murmured. Her eyes stared into her desktop. "Okay," I began, taking a breath. Do what's best for her, I thought. Set your emotions aside and do what's best for Rachael. "Okay, so are you sure that your folks don't already know you're a lesbian?" "No, I never told them." "No, Rachael, that's not what I asked. They're your folks. They've known you all your life. I'd guess they at least suspect, if they don't already know. Even if you haven't told them." She considered that perspective without saying a word. "And I have to tell you—again—that you are a special and wonderful person. Any parents who can raise someone like you have to be pretty special, too. Right?" Her eyes were on me now. She acquiesced. "Yeah, they are." "So, can I make a suggestion?" When she nodded I said, "Give them some credit and tell them. Or ask them if they already know. Or talk with them one-on-one—" "Divide and conquer?" I laughed and she smiled with me. "Something like that," I told her. "I think my Dad'd be okay with it. But my Mom, she always told me how much she wants grandkids." "So?" "So, if I tell 'em I'm gay, there goes that whole deal." "Who says?" "What?" "Who says you can't have kids because you're gay?" "Only, like, everyone." "No, Rachael. There are some who'll tell you that, but personally I think that's a load of crap!" It was the harshest language I'd ever used around her—I just did not swear. The way her face lit up told me she approved. But whether she approved of the vocabulary, the sentiment or both, I could not tell. "You could adopt, or have artificial insemination and carry your own baby. You do not need to marry a man to have babies. In fact, you don't have to marry anyone at all." "You mean, like be a single Mom?" "Oh, God, no. Too much work for one person. But you could have a partner. Some states will let you marry another woman. A lot of states still won't recognize it, though that seems to be changing. But if you love someone enough to start a family with them, a piece of paper may not be the most important thing. At least not right away." "Okay." "Have you given any thought to just how you'd give your Mom grandchildren? As a heterosexual, I mean." "What?" "Well, you told me that if you come out as gay to your folks then you can't have children." "Yeah, but—" I held up one hand to stop her. "So," I continued, "if you want to have kids, and you think you have to be in a hetero relationship, then how would you do it?" "What?" "How? Have you ever been with a man?" Rachael shook her head. "Have you even dated a man?" She shook her head again. Her eyes studied the desktop once more as her finger traced mindless shapes on its surface. "Do you have the least interest in, um, 'male companionship'?" "You mean, like . . . uh—" "Like, 'sex', Rachael." "Ms. DeWitt!" "Don't 'Ms. DeWitt' me, young lady." I grinned. She smiled, too, but shook her head. "No, when, um, I . . . well, no, I don't think of, guys, that way." "Do you just think you could have a fake marriage and the babies would magically appear from, what, storks?" She giggled, then said, "I just thought I could find a guy who would, like, marry me and, well, not want to, do . . . stuff . . . Maybe even a gay guy—" Her nose wrinkled. "God, that sounds a lot lamer out loud than it did, like, in my head." "So you two would have an 'appearance' marriage and be celibate? Or would you each have lovers on the side? And is that really better for your folks?" She clamped her lips together and let out a gentle snort of frustration. I gave her a sympathetic look and asked, "What do you want in a partner?" "Well," she voiced her thoughts, "I'd like to be with someone smart. And funny. Someone who . . . who gets me and really cares about me." "Those are all good things. What else?" She smiled before continuing. "I'd like someone who's kind and gentle, patient, not afraid to show emotions and who can deal with me when I'm all emotional." She paused. "Okay, go on." "And I want someone who's good at, um—" As I watched her I saw the flush in her cheeks and the demure way her eyes looked at the floor. Was this embarrassed girl the same person whom I suspected of masturbating in front of me a few months ago? Could I have been so mistaken? "Someone who can fulfill your, 'needs'?" I asked delicately. She nodded. "Rachael, I haven't known any guys that intimately. But it sounds to me as though you're describing a woman, not a man." She tilted her head as her mind worked. "Rachael, I can't recommend that you deny who you are to satisfy the image someone else has placed on you. Or, even worse, the image you think someone has placed on you. Like you seem to think your Mom is doing to you now." "But . . . she's my Mom." "I know. But think about how you'd feel living the life, the lie, you just described—with a man. What if you find you cannot be happy? That it was a mistake? How long could you do it? Would you get a divorce? And what would that do to you and your family?" "Yeah." Her lovely face brightened. It was like watching a glorious sunrise as the light returned to her eyes. A smile spread across the lips I longed to kiss. "Yeah, what?" I prompted. "Yeah," she repeated, "You're right. I don't think I could keep up a fake marriage to someone I didn't really love." "Male or female?" She shook her head. "I really want to be in love with the woman I marry." "Now are you sure? I want you to really think about it. Couldn't you keep up the pretense for your Mom?" "Not even. And my folks are healthy," she quipped. "They'll be around for, like, a reeeally long time." She smiled as I laughed at her wit. "Thanks, Rose. I feel better." "Just remember, you have options. Okay? It may be a little complicated, but you do have options. You just have to search your heart to find what's right for you, okay? No one else— just you. But there are worse things than coming out to your parents." A skeptical shadow swept across her face and disappeared. "I'll remember. Hey, you want to see a picture of Lizzie?" Hell, no! I thought. "Yes, I would," I said Rachael pulled out her phone. Delicate fingers danced across the screen. My mind squirmed down the slippery slope towards jealousy— "Here," she handed me the phone. "Isn't she gorgeous?" Her eyes were blue, like mine. And her light brown locks fell full and straight to reach past her shoulders. Like mine. Her lips were thinner, her nose a bit sharper and her jaw a little more square. But I could have been looking at a picture of a cousin—even a sister, if I had one. Now I know how the damned unicorns felt when they missed Noah's, freakin', ark! "She is pretty. I bet you two look good together." I handed the phone back to her while my mind ranged over a myriad of ways to make Lizzie look less pretty . . . . "Hmm," she sighed at the image in a way that made me more jealous. Rachael looked at me as though seeing something for the first time. She peered at her phone then eyed me again without lifting her head. She shoved the phone into her purse. Rachael blurted out, "Well, I better, you know—" "Yeah, me, too." I stood and so did she. "Thanks, Rose. I just didn't . . . know, who to talk to about this, Thank you sooo much." She walked around the desk towards me. Oh, my God, she was breeching the Great Wall and there was no line of retreat. Before I knew it, she hugged me again. Then I was hugging her right back like I did not want to ever let go. My hand ran over her shoulder blade and down to the small of her back. She clung tight to me for just an instant then began to pull away. I leaned back, too. Rachael dug her fingers into the thick braid at the back of my head. Her face was so close I felt her warm breath on my lips. Her head turned and her mouth found mine. My eyes went wide, but hers closed as she kissed me. I whimpered and my body shuddered as her tongue traced from right to left. My lips opened, inviting her. Then, as though it never happened, we stood apart. If not for the burn of my skin, the aroused swelling of my lips, and my own ragged breathing, I would have trouble believing it really had happened. "Oh God, Rose, I . . . I—" Rachael turned and slammed through the door before I could gather my wits. By the time I reached the hall and called out her name she had already disappeared around a corner. "Shit!" * * * * * * * "Rachael, please let's talk about this, okay? Call me back, or stop by, or I can even meet you someplace if that's better for you. Please, let's just talk, okay? Okay, 'bye." That was the third voicemail I left. My texts were being ignored, too. It had been three days. I felt horrible and worried that our relationship might be ruined. I hated to think that Rachael, in a vulnerable and delicate position already, may have been more confused than ever by our kiss. Even my baser side went neglected. I was so agonized that our sweet moment failed to fire my fantasy play. So on top of everything else I felt cheated. Then I felt guilty for feeling cheated. Argh! If we could just talk about it . . . . * * * * * * * Two weeks passed as slowly as any I could remember. My existence seemed reduced to a sort of autonomic functioning. It was like watching a film of me going about my daily routine, looped over and over. It was a really boring, dreary film, too. The grown-up part of my brain knew better than to define myself by a relationship—especially an embryonic and, probably, mostly-imagined one. And deep down I knew that I was a good and loving person, worthy of being loved right back. I knew that it did not matter what others thought of me because I was comfortable with who I had become, who I had molded myself into over the years. I also knew that I had never felt such a profound attraction toward anyone as I did towards Rachael. I knew that I was a little . . . hollow . . . without her. I knew that an inner peace hummed within my chest whenever we spent time together. What I did not know was whether we could share any sort of future. For many years a source of pride was my ability to handle my life on my own. But every so often the situation overwhelmed me and left me feeling lost. My Dad was not a talker so, after Mom passed, Debby won out be default. "Hello?" "Hi, Debby." Debby was my college roommate. We kept in touch over the years and she was the first person I knew who could transcend separations. Each time we spoke, or saw each other, it was as though we had never been apart—even if months had lapsed since our last contact. "Eileen! How are ya, girl?" "Okay. How're you?" One of the things I love about Debby is how cool she had always been with my identity. I found her very attractive, except she happens to be terminally straight so nothing ever came of my first college crush. Instead, she ended up as a life-long friend and my occasional therapist. She was the least judgmental person I knew. "Hmm, I'm guessing that I'm better than you from that tone," she announced. "What's going on?" "Oh, just feeling a bit down and wanted to hear your voice." "Uh, huh. Okay, should I regale you with tales of outrageously expensive car repairs, or cat vomit in our bed, or maybe how great Kirk is, in our bed, when the sheets are clean and he—" "Debby, stop before I vomit! God, you heteros are sooo gross." She started her hysterical giggling. I laughed with her and knew I had called the right person. "Oh, all right, Eiley. Shit, you're such a girl sometimes." "So're you!" "Am not—you take that back." "God, Debby, you sound like some of my students." "Ha!" "Yeah, well, that's kinda why, I, uh . . ." My voice trailed off to nothing. I knew her mental gears must've been spinning in overdrive. "Oh, crap," she groaned. "Please tell me you did not fall for one of your students!" "No! God, Debby—" "Thank God for that!" "Well, yeah, I mean . . ." "Eileen!" "Well, she's not my student now!" The pause stretched out for long seconds. "Really? Seriously?" "I never felt this way before. Not about anyone." "Small consolation." "I know." My frustrated sigh spoke volumes. "Is it bad?" "It's not, that is, well, I don't know if it's bad." "I mean, do you have strong feelings for her?" "Strong enough to call you." "And she doesn't feel the same way?" "I don't know." Another long pause. "Eileen, you know you have to give me something to work with, right?" "Yeah," I muttered. "All right, let's start over. Tell me what's going on." I related the story about how I felt when Rachael hugged me, how I longed to be with her on her summer trip, how we seem to have such a good friendship. Debby stopped me. "Friends? And you're not sure she feels anything romantic towards you?" "I don't know. She could feel something, or I could be imaging it. I'm really emotional around her." My voice lowered and I mumbled, "Sometime brain no work so good." I grunted a couple of times for emphasis. A Little Hug "And she's, ew, gay, right?" I could hear the laughter in her tone. "Yes, she's—" "I mean, 'gay,' Eileen Rose. Not just curious for a 'walk on the wild side' then the ole dump-ola?" "No, she likes girls. Only." "Good, then I won't have to have her rubbed out." "Rubbed out? Have you been watching 'Soprano' reruns again?" "Shit. You know, there's something else that just popped into my head." Debby sighed, "But you may not want to hear it . . ." "Gimme your best shot. I really need to figure this out 'cause it driving me crazy." "Well, you may be squarely in the 'friend' zone." I gave that thought and whispered, "Damn!" Then, "No, wait. She kissed me." "Okay, that might be important." She wielded a mean sarcasm. "Why didn't you say so?" I explained about Elizabeth and how much she looked like me, how Rachael seemed to notice, how wonderful it felt when she kissed me. "Who's being gross now?" Debby teased. "Then what?" "Well, then she, um, ran, out—" "Oh, no. Really?" "Yeah. Is that bad?" "It's not good." "'Friend' zone?" "Sounding more like it every minute." "Oh, no." My voice trembled and Debby heard it. "Got it bad for her, huh?" "Oh, Debby, you have no idea." "Sorry, Eiley." 'Yeah." Even I could hear how dejected my tone sounded. "Got fixin's?" That was Debby-speak for margaritas. "Nah. Tequila and me during the school year—baaad." "Wine?" "Yeah." "I'd prescribe you a half bottle. And a very hot bath—" "Can't. I . . . er, think, about her, in the tub." "Ew, gross," she teased again. This time I actually laughed, though my eyes burned and I blinked a tear. "Look, Eiley, it sounds like you'll have to work it a bit, but if she's the one— You think she's the one?" "I don't know. I think so. Maybe? I don't know . . ." "If she's the one, then you have to be on the lookout for the tiniest opening, you know? And remember that you may only get one shot. Maybe not even . . ." I sniffed. "You sure know how to cheer a girl up, Deb." I tried to chuckle to take the sting out of my words, but they still did not sound the way I intended. "Sorry, babe, but I'd be a lousy friend if I lied to you just to try and make you feel better. If this doesn't work out and you're blind-sided you'll feel a lot worse later." "Yeah, you're probably right." "So, prepare for the worst but work for the best, okay?" "You think I have any chance?" "You know, it doesn't matter what I think. It only matters what you think. If you think it's worth the risk, if she gives you the teensiest of openings, then go for it." "What if I get my heart broken?" "Then I'll bring the fixin's for a long weekend as soon as the school year's over. You'll heal." Debby paused. "But what if you don't get your heart broken? What if you get the girl?" "So, how?" "How do you get the girl?" "Yeah," I murmured. "Ha, that's beyond my pay grade, darlin'. My job is just to tell you to trust your heart. It's a good one." A huge sigh gave me time to think. "So, I need to be more objective and see if there really is anything there. Get my feelings out of the way and see things as a scientist would." "That's my girl! But if that's you listening to your heart, well, your heart sounds a lot like most folks' minds, you know? What's your heart feeling right now?" "It aches without her." "Oy!" We chatted for a few more minutes until she warned me that Kirk was due home soon and they were, "going to do a lot of gross hetero stuff to each other." I laughed, thanked Debby and let her go. I felt better, more positive in a way. But I remained a bit conflicted and uncertain. As much as I knew I wanted Rachael, it all came down to whether she wanted me, too. Duh! * * * * * * * Rachael By PygmyCoho This is an excerpt from the story, "A Little Hug" that will be available soon. I hope you enjoy it. One night I trudged to my car and struggled with its door. The armload of books and papers spilled onto the back seat. Then the oddest sensation made the hairs on my nape rise. Someone was watching me. I looked around the parking lot. Very few vehicles remained after six o'clock on a Friday, so it took mere seconds to find my voyeur. Rachael gazed at me from across the roof of her silver coupe. She waived a tentative hand in my direction. "Rachael!" I ran towards her but had to slow as my eyes brimmed, blurring my vision. I heard her say, "Hi, Rose." "Hi, Rose, shit! I've been so worried about you." My hands reached over the roof of her car and, thankfully, her hands were there to grasp. "I'm sorry. I . . . I just needed to, um, think." "Rachael, I'm so sorry." "Okaaay—whyyy? "Why? Because you came to confide in me and I betrayed your trust. That's why!" "Uh, Rose, you do, um, remember that I, like, kissed you, right?" She chuckled. How could I forget? Now that I knew she was all right, that her sense of humor had returned, the recollection of that kiss had me tingling all over again. "That doesn't matter—" "Uh, yeah. Kinda does. And, Rose, are you crying?" "No!" God, I sounded just like a child. I sniffed. "Sort of." I heard her giggle and strained through my tears to catch that Rachael smile. "Just a little," I said with a small laugh. I stroked the tears away from beneath my eyes. "Listen, Rachael, can we go somewhere and talk? Please. I think it's important." "Yeah, me, too.' "Good. Where would you like to go?" "I don't know. You have to live in the dorms the first year. The rooms are small and come with, ugh, roommates!" I grinned. "We could go out?" "It would have to be someplace quiet," she countered. I pondered for a moment then suggested, "How 'bout here?" My finger pointed down at the roof of her car. She paused, smiled and said, "Perfect." So we sat in her college car. She reached into the console and offered me a paper napkin. I flipped down the visor, checked its little mirror, dabbed at my eyes and tried to salvage my makeup. It would have been more intimate talking with her over glasses of wine in my garden bathtub overflowing with scented bubbles, but this really was much, er, safer. Nothing would happen in the school parking lot. "Rose?" "Yes, Rachael." "You didn't do anything wrong." "But I betrayed your—" "No, Rose. Please stop saying that, 'kay? I kissed you. I mean, shit, I don't even know if you're gay or bi or straight. Maybe it totally grossed you out to get tongued by some dopey coed." "You are not dopey," I told her with a hint of forceful anger. "You are one of the most amazing people I've even known." The woman gave me a thin smile, but a fleeting doubt whisked across her face, too. "I mean it." She murmured, "Thanks." "And there was nothing gross about it." Her limpid eyes shown with a parade of emotions: surprise, delight, satisfaction and . . . hope? Was that my teensy opening? Or was that just what I wanted to see? I took a deep breath and, figuratively speaking, dove from the cliff. "It was the most spectacular kiss I've ever had. With anyone." I prayed that my dive would end in the ocean and not on the rocks. Cliff diving is like that, I hear. Too late now. "Oh, bullshit." That sounded obligatory and without an iota of conviction. "Rachael, it's my turn now, okay?" "Your turn? For what?" "To confess something. To you." She leaned away, into the corner between her seat and the driver's side door, and turned to face me. "'Kay." "You told me that you're gay—something you hadn't told your folks yet. That's an amazing trust, and one that I don't ever want to break." I took another breath, but my throat tightened so much I had to swallow. Talking became impossible. "Rose?" Her whisper conveyed compassion and empathy beyond her years. It gave me strength to continue. "I've been . . . uh, I've had a . . . I mean—" Sure, strength to continue. Now if I could muster the strength to make sense! "Rose, are you okay? You sound sorta, weird." "Rachael." I closed my eyes. "I've had a thing for you since your senior year in my class." The sentence came out so fast that it ran together and sounded like one long word. But why had time stopped? And why wouldn't my eyes open? Behind my eyelids the vision of big rocks raced up at me. "Oh, Rose." She touched my hand. Then a most awful thing happened. A tear slipped from my eye and left a shameful trail down one cheek. "Dammit," I hissed. Then a most wonderful thing happened. Rachael's gentle thumb brushed my tear into extinction. "Rose? Can you look at me, please?" I turned towards her voice, sightless still. "Rose?" The warmth of her palm against the side of my face sent a shiver through me. I pressed into it. "I have a smile for you if you open your pretty eyes. Please, Honey?" Honey! Now I have to look. It was true! Rachael had a wonderful smile, a gorgeous and radiant smile. And she shared it with me. I survived the dive! Um, that is, I think I did. Didn't I? Was that a splash, or a splat? "Rose, when I looked at Lizzie's pic that day in your classroom, it kinda freaked me out. I mean, I always thought you were sooo special. And it was great the way you made me feel in your class—" "That was you, not me. 'You get out of a class'—" "—'What you put into it," she finished my quote. "I know. I mean, I'd see how you'd treat the other kids and I knew you were just that way to everybody. But it was the way I felt around you. And when I saw that Lizzie was you, and that I, whew, well, that I . . . wanted . . ." She trailed off. The gravity of what she was about to say must have caught up with her. I gave her a chance to save face. "Rachael, it's okay. You don't have to say anything else." She shut her eyes. "I've had the hots for you, too!" She opened one eye and squinted at me. Her cute nose wrinkled and she held the expression until I burst into laughter. How long had we been holding hands? And what was it about this girl—no, I reminded myself once more—what was it about this young woman that left me a confused and emotive mess? I hoped to have a very long time to make that discovery for myself. Rachael glanced at our hands and sighed. "Rose?" She looked up at me. "I, I'm glad we could talk. But I need some time to think this all over, 'kay? This is some pretty intense stuff for me." "Me, too," I smile back at her. "And I still need to figure out about my folks in all this. So? Time, 'kay? Please?" "Yes, Rachael. Take all the time you need. I just, I'm just so glad you're all right." I reached for the door handle. "I'll talk with you soon, 'kay? Promise." "Good." I got out and closed the door as she started the engine. The window went down and she called my name. I leaned down to see her face. "I, uh, I told Lizzie she's cool, but I just wanted to, like, be friends." "Oh, okay." All I could think of at that moment was, Survived the dive, baaa-by! I maintained my cool, I think, but in my mind I was doing backflips. "I just figured, well, maybe you should, um, know. That's all." "Okay, Rachael." I could not stop my wide grin—nor did I want to. "I'll talk with you soon." She nodded, smiled and mouthed, "Thank you." I stood back and watched her drive out of the parking lot. I floated to my car, drove home without remembering anything of the ride, and drew a bubble bath. Before my glass of pinot noir was half finished my body rocked in pleasure. I came hard while thinking of us kissing and fingering each other to shared climaxes. For my second, the fantasy involved my quivering thighs framing Rachael beautiful face, our eyes locked together as she devoured me. The third happened as I imagined our tender flesh stroking together in smoldering slickness until we quaked in our singular ecstasy. I climbed from the cooling water and toweled dry. The remainder of my glass disappeared in three large gulps. The towel fell away and remained on the floor as the emptying tub gurgled. Still naked, I snuggled under the thick comforter. My hands worked on, in and around my swollen folds. My mind, feverish to the point of hallucination, dreamed of how luscious Rachael would taste when she reached fulfillment in my mouth. This orgasm left me gasping and the intense warmth in my tummy made me laugh as I finished. The rest of my night consisted of naps interspersed with more sating fantasies. By morning, in my mind, we had tasted every inch of each other's body, had climaxed in every way I could conjure up, and had left each other marked with our blended musk. My Saturday morning passed with the most incredible and fulfilling dreams of Rachael. The only way it could be any better was if she had really shared my bed. I rolled onto my side, closed my eyes, smiled, hoped, and fell into a peaceful slumber. * * * * * * * There was no word from Rachael for many days and, though it nearly killed me, I gave her space and time. My wild, salacious fantasies moderated somewhat, replaced by more mundane situations. In my latest imaginings we spent a lot of time grocery shopping and cooking together, then losing ourselves in fabulous conversations about anything and everything. Sometimes, we'd even feed each other. We'd play together, too. Not those adult games—well, not all the time, anyway. And not those mind games where someone wins at the expense of the other. We'd play card games, board games, or silly games that people enjoy as they bond. Games two people play while falling in love. Another Friday and still nothing. Long after the last bell rang I remained frozen at my desk while horrid questions plagued my mind. What if Rachael had second thoughts? What if she and Lizzie got together after all? What if she thought I was too old? Or too plain? Or too boring? What if she thought I couldn't give her enough excitement on a teacher's salary? What if she didn't find me attractive enough, or smart enough, or sexy enough? On some level I knew that this was insane. I knew that I had to stop. But what I felt for Rachael boiled up inside me with an intensity that I had never known. I couldn't control it. These questions, and many more at least as disturbing, pounded within my skull until my mind locked up and my body grew numb. The illogical loop got to me. The harder I tried to deny it, the faster it consumed me. What if . . . what if . . . what if . . .? I could not halt the crushing parade of doubts and insecurities. My breathing became troubled and I wrung my hands together until my fingers ached. I verged on totally losing my grip. This must be what drowning feels like. Stop it, Eileen Rose DeWitt. Stop it stop it stop it . . .! My breathing began to slow and control of my thoughts seemed within my grasp once more. Just what-in-the-Hell was that? "Rose, I have a great idea for tonight and I hope— Rosie, what's wrong?" Rachael, lovely, beautiful Rachael, stood there. She looked more amazing in person than she ever did in my mind, even though she was wearing her clothes. If a sorceress calmed a turbulent sea with a clap of her hands, the transformation could not have been more immediate or dramatic than the effect Rachael's presence had on my emotions. "I'm okay," my voice croaked. I cleared my throat and stared at her face. A feeling of profound peacefulness washed over me and my lips curled in a tiny, relaxed smile. "I'm fine, now." It, whatever "it" was, began to wane. I hoped it never would plague me again. I mean, it really sucked—with both lips! She reached across my desk and took my hands in hers. "Okay, you look a little better. But, Gawd, when I walked in you looked . . ." "I must have looked pretty bad, huh?" "Um, ye-aah, like you were having a serious freaking craptastrophe! What were you thinking about?" "Just had some bad stuff in my head. But you chased it all away." "You need a distraction." She paused for a moment then told me, "We're having dinner." Just exactly how I could be distracted from my overwhelming thoughts of Rachael—by Rachael—would remain a concept forever beyond my understanding. As this puzzle confounded me she must have noticed my "what-the-hell?" expression. "That's what I had planned for us. You know, I was telling you when I walked in." I nodded. "So, here's my fiendish plan. You ready?" I nodded and she grinned. "You are going home. You're going to have a hot bath and relax. I'll meet you there exactly at seven, with food. And you will forget all about whatever had you so fu—I mean, so messed up, 'kay?" As my eyes stared at Rachael the oddest feeling infused my facial muscles. They felt . . . happy! The grin began to spread my lips wider and wider, and nothing I could do would stop it. In fact, more effort merely increased the silly quotient. Soon I began to giggle. "That's better," she chuckled. "So, get going. I'm staved." "Okay, Rachael." "And just make sure you're ready for dinner when I get there, 'cause I'm, like, starved!" I nodded some more like a foolish, grinning bobble head. "Yes, ma'am." By the time I got home it was already twenty till seven. I would just have time to bathe and dress before Rachael's arrival, but no time to masturbate. I hoped I could keep my thoughts from turning wanton. Yeah, like that's possible. Get a grip! At three past the doorbell rang. I finished pulling on a plain skirt and straightened my blouse. Nothing fancy, but this was our first "date." I wanted to look presentable. "Hi, Rose." She pecked my cheek and headed toward the kitchen. "Hope you like sushi." "Sushi?" My cheek burned beneath my fingers as I touched where she kissed me. "Yeah, You like?" Her ponytail bobbed as she turned towards the counter. "Um, sure." "Good, 'cause it's so sensuous. You know, little morsels, and you eat them with your fingers. Yummy!" Get a grip get a grip get a grip . . . . "Rose, where do you want to sit?" My focus at that moment remained on her shapely bottom, thinking I knew where I wanted her to sit. I darted my eyes in a safer direction and struggled to, well, to get a grip. "Oh, um, let's sit at the table." I turned towards the dining room suite. "Gosh, I should've— Let me set some plates out. Crap, I'm—" "Oh, Rosie, you're fine. Relax. This is fun, 'kay?" "Yeah, okay." "And they gave us chopsticks so you don't need any forks, or anything. Besides, we have fingers." Rachael worked her thumb and forefinger together a few times for emphasis. She opined, "And we can use the little containers so no dishes. See? Aren't they cute?" Not as cute as you are. "Gee, thanks, Rose. You look pretty damn hot tonight, too." Oh, my God, did I call her cute out loud? "It's okay. I liked it," she said over her shoulder as she emptied the sacks and arranged the sushi. "Okay, I'm going to stop talking." My mortification limit had been reached; silence seemed to be the best short-term course of action. "We could use a couple of little bowls, or something, for the soy sauce and ginger and, ooo their wasabi is sooo gooood. Spicy-spicy!" I bit my lips together and thought, She is sooo incredible and she's here for dinner—with me! Then I waited for her to respond. She asked, "Dishes?" Whew! At least I can still separate my brain from my mouth. "In the cupboard, no, top one to the right of the sink." She stretched and I thought, My God, what a fabulous back side! My God, I hope I didn't say that out loud . . . A Little Hug "Ah, perfect," she announced You're right, it's perfect! I tried a quick head shake to reboot my mind. "I need wine." I got an open bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge, picked out a goblet and poured myself a healthy measure. "Rachael, would you like something to drink?" "Well, maybe a little vino-reeno?" I poured her one, also, completely forgetting she was only nineteen. Rachael already had most of the food on the table. She set a shallow bowl down and squeezed several soy sauce packets into it. The ginger and wasabi went onto a saucer. "Dinner!" "It's beautiful." "What do you want to start with?" She sat. I placed the goblets on the table then sat across from her. "How 'bout that one." I pointed, feeling a little inexperienced. "Ooo, futo maki. Excellent choice, ma'am." She plucked a disk from the end of the roll and dipped it into the soy. But before I could reach for my own piece she fed me. She watched my mouth while proffering the tidbit. I gazed into her eyes and she laid the sushi on my tongue. When her fingertip brushed my lower lip I turned to mush. It was just as well because if my reflexes had worked I know my lips would have wrapped around her finger. "Now you do me." I almost choked. "What?" "Your turn. To feed me, silly." Her constant smile punctuated the moment. "Oh, okay." I pulled off the next piece. "Wasabi and soy, please." "Um, how . . .?' "Oh, here." Her hand took mine and pressed the sushi to the edge of the green paste then into the dark brine pool. As she guided us to her mouth, she stared directly into my azure eyes. I was glad she moved my hand because I could not have done it on my own. Her lips closed around the black-and-white slice and caught the tip of my thumb. My body registered the electricity in an instant. It caused my nipples to harden and my insides to melt. I did not know what to do. I certainly did not want the sensation to end, but I couldn't jab my thumb into her mouth either. So I froze. Rachael smiled and let my hand retreat. It happened in a dreamy slow-motion, and I particularly recall the tiny sucking noise she made as my thumb left the warmth of her lips. She smiled while she chewed. I just stared at her mouth without realizing that my own lips had parted and my breathing had deepened. "Mmm, sooo good!" "Yeah," I muttered in a breathy gasp. Rachael giggled at me and I grinned along, feeling silly but catching the humor. What else could I do? We ate for the next hour, talking and relaxing and growing more comfortable. It was a fabulous conversation about anything and everything. I had to remind myself on more than one occasion just how young she was because she proved to be a fine conversationalist. At times we forgot about dinner. But one great thing about sushi; it can't get cold if you eat too slowly. When the last food was gone, I told her, "You 'cooked'. I'll 'clean'." The little trays stacked into one another and made it to the trash. What few dishes we used went into the sink. After a quick swipe of a damp paper towel over the tabletop my chore was finished. I sipped the last of my wine. Rachael's glass still held a swallow but from the glow of her cheeks, and another deep in her brown eyes, she did not need any more. I picked up the glasses, finished hers on my way to the kitchen and set the empties on the counter. When I turned back for the table Rachael was right there. Her eyes held mine. I felt like a deer in the headlights of her lust-filled stare. My heart pounded heavy in my ears, but not loudly enough to cover the whimpered sigh that escaped me. Without a word one of her hands found the nape of my neck. Her other arm went around my waist. Her mouth pressed into my open lips and I stood motionless for an instant. With another small whimper, apparently my lust battle cry or mating call or something, my arms went around her neck. Instead of Rachael kissing me, now we kissed each other. As we explored, I burned every detail that I could into my memory. I was going to tell our kids about that first hug, and certainly about this kiss—well, the girls, but probably not the boys. Her lips moved with a perfect blend of hesitancy and assuredness. Rachael's hand massaged my scalp and my nipples hardened again. For an instant I wondered if she would notice, or if she would even care, until she moaned and pressed her chest into mine. She noticed! I whimpered. My hands began to move then, too. I slid one down along the curve of her spine to the flare of her hips and pulled her into my waist. I turned my head and let the very tip of my tongue outline her lips. She smiled into our kiss, and countered with a tickle of her tongue on my lips as well. The tingle of that caress raced through my breasts, picked up energy and slammed into the depths of my pelvis. No whimper over that sensation. This time I let out the most unsexy grunt ever. She giggled, and pulled away. "Rose, can we sit? My legs feel funny." My hand smoothed its way past her spectacular bottom and kneaded the outside of her thigh. "This one feels fine to me." She chuckled. Each of her hands squeezed one of my rounded cheeks. "So do you, smarty." I sighed, and admitted, "My legs are a little weak, too. I have a really great couch." "Show me?" I led her by the hand to the living room and we sat with our thighs touching. Rachael gazed into my face. It melted every inch of me from my heart to my toes. She reached behind her head and slipped the tie from her hair, letting it cascade like an ebony waterfall. My eyes closed and I leaned toward Rachael. She is a wonderful to kisser and I wanted more. We started slowly, just the way I like. Some of Rachael's hair got caught up in our kiss. She pulled it free and the slippery tickle as it left my mouth made me grin. Soon we both were sighing and my breathing accelerated. Our hands wandered. Rachael's back felt toned and smooth through her top. She left her bra at home. I recall thinking that her breasts must be truly remarkable to feel so firm and perky against mine. Her tongue painted across my lips then forced its way deep into my mouth. My eyes flew open in surprise, but hers remained closed as she attacked me. One of her hands groped my breast while she shoved the other between my legs. I don't think she sensed my hesitancy. She drew back and her darks eyes burned into mine like lasers. "I'm gonna rock you so hard, Honey. I'm going to eat your pussy till you cum all over my face. Then I'm gonna fuck you till you can't walk." I was confused. "What?" "Whaaat?" I sat back to put a little distance between us and crossed my arms. "Rachael, um, maybe we should talk a little." She looked hurt and sat back, too. "'Kay." She nestled into the overstuffed arm of the sofa, her body language closed. "Um, Rachael, I really like you." "Yeah, 'kay . . . and I like you, too, Rose." I smiled when she said my name. "And I really want to make love with you." "Me, too." "Have you, ever . . . um, ever been with another woman, before?" The smile faded as her cheeks colored. Her eyes and shoulders sagged. She shook her head. "Why do you think women make love like . . . like that?" "Well, I—" Rachael paused and drew a deep breath. She exhaled and began again. "I, um, I'm kinda nervous. And all I've done with another girl is to fool around a little. You know, some kissing and playing with boobs, but only through bras, you know?" I nodded and waited. It seemed best to just listen. "So, I've been planning this for, like, days. But I didn't know about how to, you know, with another girl. So, I, uh, I mean, my roomie suggested I could watch, um . . . porn." In a rush, she added," Just to get some ideas, you know?" Her eyes fell and her cheeks glowed crimson. As hard as I tried, I could not contain my laughter. But her wounded expression ended it. My smile remained, though, as I took her hands. "Rachael, Baby, you are a-mazing. Remember how I keep telling you that?" She nodded but would not meet my eyes. "And I adore kissing you. Your touches make me crazy and my brain doesn't work around you. Some days you're all I can think about. Confession?" "'Kay." "This afternoon, when you walked into my room and I was sooo freaked out, it was because I thought you wouldn't want me." She stared at me. "Seriously?" "Yeah, seriously. Major panic attack." "Oh, Rosie—" "But you do not need to get any ideas from porn, or to 'sex me up' to please me, okay? She nodded once more and this time her eyes looked into the very depths of mine. "Listen, Rachael. All you need to do to make me absolutely wild is to touch me. Touch me with caring, compassion, and maybe a little regular passion, too. And let me do the same with you, okay? I promise it will be incredible just because of how I feel about you, and how I think you feel about me." She perked up as though a burden had slipped from her. Rachael smiled and her shoulders straitened. "Okay, Rose." "Have you ever made love with someone you really cared about?" "No." "I really care about you, and I'd like to make love with you." "Me, too. I can barely sit still." Her hips rocked side-to-side for emphasis. "Good. Okay, now, do you trust me?" Rachael nodded, smiling broadly. "Okay, all you have to remember is take your time, enjoy 'us' and don't worry. Okay?" "'Kay, Honey." "Want to kiss me?" Her answer was to lean toward me and wrap her arms around my neck. I caught her by the ribs as we kissed but she giggled and squirmed from me. "Tickles," she laughed. "Really? How 'bout this?" My fingers dug into her side. "Stooop!" She giggled and squirmed some more. "Then how 'bout this?" I leaned forward and brushed my lips against her throat. Her gasp let me know just how much she appreciated the sensation. I nibbled and sipped at the soft, fragrant skin between her jaw and her collar bone. Rachael groaned and wrapped her arms around my head. She pulled me close as my lips played. "Still tickle?" "Don't stop," she moaned and held me to her. Stopping was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I caressed her young breasts through her blouse. I left the protruding tips for later when I planned to worship them with a languid tongue. My fingers stroked and traced her curves, touching her the way I enjoy being touched. My lips suckled their way back and forth along the length of her collar bones. It was an awkward position as I remained arched over her like a cat. My mouth roamed her neck and my palms wandered her body until my back complained. My hands left her beautiful globes and braced on the arm of the couch. She groaned her disapproval, but the momentary break was in her best interest. My legs shimmied down the couch until I could lie on top of her. Now my mouth could reach her chest. I pressed my tongue into the thin fabric hiding one of her exquisite nipples. Rachael sucked in her breath and dug her fingernails into my scalp. "Miss me?" I chuckled. A soft growl rolled in the back of her throat. "Here, let's just take this off," I suggested and my hands fiddled with her top. She raised herself so I could have my way with her upper body. "That's my gir— Ohmyyy . . ." The blouse fell away and I stared at her naked breasts. It must have made her self-conscious, or perhaps my wanton leer burned her skin. Her arms went across her chest. "Rose?" Rachael's voice sounded so tiny and uncertain, almost embarrassed. "Oh, God, Baby, you are sooo beautiful," I whispered in awe. She smiled her relief. "You take my breath away just looking at you!" "You can do more than look." Her voice had grown husky, teasing, and full of desire. I grinned like the Cheshire Cat and kissed her. Then I worked my mouth down her sensuous neck and chest until I could shower the skin of her breasts with richly deserved kisses, nips and licks. She sighed and groaned as she fingered my hair and guided my head. I used one hand on her breasts, caressing the free one or holding the one under my mouth, as the situation dictated. My other hand stroked her body. Her soft, smooth skin complimented the firm, taut, feminine musculature. One of the things I adore about making love is how the passage of time ceases. I have no idea how long we lay like that. But I do recall the effect. My lips had surrounded her left areola as my tongue strummed her erect bud. My fingertips rolled the right nipple, still slick with my saliva. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her chest rose off the couch towards me. "Oh, Gawd, Rose! Just, ungh, plea— Ungh, yeah . . . just, like, oooh—" I grinned to myself. If I could have patted my own back, I would have. Both hands played Rachael like a fine violin. But I could pat my back any time; Rachael might not be here later. I took no chances and continued my intoxicating task. My hip had gone numb so I shifted on the couch. One leg ended up against Rachael's panties and she clamped her thighs around it. My lips slipped up to the very tip of her nipple and were stroking back down across the wrinkled areola when Rachael stopped breathing altogether. Her body went ridged. My thigh grew hot and wet where she ground onto my skin. My darling Rachael and I shared our first orgasm together. It was everything I hoped it would be and more. Her body found the rhythm of sexual climax. I held her tightly and suckled her breasts as she became even harder. Her hips rocked on the muscles of my thigh. She glided through a nice, long cum that excited me so. "Oh, my, Gawd, Rose," she panted as her body cooled. "Is it always like that?" I stroked the side of her face and rested my cheek on her chest. I murmured, "Is what always like that, Baby?" I stared at her breast. "Is cumming with someone you, um, care about, always so damn a-mazing?" Her eyes remained closed and the occasional aftershock gripped her. With each shiver her tiny nipples hardened again. I became mesmerized watching the cycle. "Well, I don't know if it's 'a-mazing' every time. But from my experience it is sooo much better with someone you care about." I rubbed one taut nib between my finger and thumb and her body quivered. She turned her wide eyes to me and whispered, "You're getting me going again, you know?" "Is that okay?" I don't think I'll ever tire of her smile. "Sooo totally okay! You know . . ." she trailed off and turned shy. "What? What is it?" "Well, really?" I kissed her bicep and said, "It's okay, you can tell me." Rachael breathed a very deep sigh and her voice became quiet. "Well, Rose, not all of the . . . stuff, I watched was the slam-bang stuff." "Oh?" I nibbled on her shoulder. My curiosity piqued. "Yeah, um, 'kay, some of it was soft and slow, instead." "And?" I suckled on the side of her neck then began working my way lower. "Oooh. Oh, Rose . . ." She curled herself around my head. "Did you like it? The soft, slow lovemaking?" "I liked it best. Mmm, that's good. The slow stuff—oooh—it was sooo sexy, Rosie." "Then why didn't you try that first?" I nipped at the skin of her chest. "I thought, well, I, uh, thought you'd be waaay more experienced and would like something more, you know, sophisticated?" "And now? What do you think, now?" "Now? I think the soft stuff is fantastic!" "And sophisticated?" I tasted her sternum. "Mmm, mm hmm." "Good, because there's something I have been dying to do with you." "Really?" Her expression turned mischievous. "What's that, Honey?" I was already dripping, but every time she called me "Honey" it turned up the heat a bit more. "You just lie back and relax, and let me make you feel good." "Gawd, Rose, I passed 'good' a looong time ago." "Wonderful—no pressure. Just let me make love to you." I cut Rachael's response short with a tiny lick across one nipple. My mouth moved to her other breast and took in her stiffening areola. My tongue flickered over the swollen little tip. She moaned and took my head in her hands to keep me in place but I pulled back. At last it was her turn to whimper. The situation evolved quickly as I nibbled my way down her body. Her smooth tummy fluttered beneath my ministrations. Her navel proved too cute to pass so I swabbed the tip of my tongue into the depression. Rachael tittered and tried to push my head away. When that failed she squirmed from my tongue. I took pity on her and kept kissing and licking my way south. I reached her skirt and kissed along the border between fabric and skin. I even slithered my tongue under her waistband, a preview of things to come, but moved on before she could pull down on her clothing. I skipped her hips entirely, although the scent of her made me want to chew through her panties and ravish the delectable morsel I knew lay so close. I sensed her heat as I passed her vee. My hands lifted the hem of her skirt, giving me the chance to caress her legs. Her panties were white, tiny, innocent and girly, except for one delicious, spreading spot. Her arousal had turned the thin fabric translucent and I could see the tiny patch of black hair above her sex. My brain fogged. For the next several minutes only two sounds filled the room; wet noises of kisses and nips that covered Rachael's thighs, and a continuous symphony of sighs and moans from one very aroused young woman. My lips edged nearer to her labia, close enough to tease. I wanted Rachael so worked up that the merest touch of my tongue would launch her into low-earth orbit. My own need started complaining and I was about to free one hand for my pleasure. Rachael beat me to it and almost launched me into orbit instead. She knew just where to touch and her fingers conveyed an assurance that surprised me. My concentration waivered as my body responded. I reached for her hand, intent on stopping her. But when I got there all could do was hold her tight and rock myself against her fingers. "Oh, Honey," she gasped. "You're so hot. And your panties are sooo wet." "Uh, huh," I grunted into her hip. "Don't you need to cum?" How could control switch hands—literally—so quickly? She murmured, "I mean, I'm practically dying, and I've already cum. Maybe you should, too." Rachael's voice felt like the sirens' call as her hand worked magic between my legs. I began to tremble. "Is that good, Honey?" Stop calling me that, I thought. You're not playing fair! But instead of speaking, my voice became a low moan of gratified approval. I teetered on the edge, wanting to sink onto her hand and lose myself in fulfillment. But I pulled back and remembered my focus was on her pleasure. I grabbed her wrist and lifted her wondrous hand from me. "You just have to wait." I gazed into her smoldering eyes. "This is about you right now, Baby." "You sure?" She licked one of the fingers she just had against me. My scent—my essence—had to have been all over it. As I stared, she slid it all the way into her mouth. Her eyes closed in ecstasy and she moaned. It got me so hot I thought I might melt a hole in the floor and fall right through it. So the gloves had to come off. Now! I leaned forward, bladed my tongue into the center of her steaming undies and dragged upward like a plow in wet earth. Her shaky voice cried, "Oh, shit!" Ha, gotcha! "You like that, Baby?" She grabbed my head and pushed it towards the very destination I had in mind. But her schedule and mine differed. "Uh, uh. Slow down. I promise we'll get you there," I chuckled. "Oh, hurry, Rose. Please . . . hurry!" From her expression I thought she must be aching. It was time to stop denying both of us. A Little Hug I lowered my face to her and surrounded the top of her panty-clad vulva with my lips. I sipped on the fabric, and the sweet flesh beneath, and felt her body quiver. My mouth set up a soft, rhythmic sucking that made wispy sounds through her panties. Her tip grew and my tongue stroked its length. I tugged more of her into my mouth and concentrated on the tiny pearl. Rachael gasped and trashed into the cushions. I backed away and she growled her frustration until she realized I wanted the panties off of her gorgeous body. She lifted her hips, but I went primal and ripped them from her instead. Her skirt was already up around her waist. Both of my hands thrust under her flexed bottom and squeezed her cheeks. She threw one leg over the back of the sofa and turned her hips to me. Perfect. Her womanhood was exquisite; puffed with arousal, and seeping nectar. The luscious nub I had just sampled peeped from beneath a neat and tiny triangle of thin black curls, matted by the press of her panties and her copious lubricant. And just to the right and above Rachael's downy triangle was a tattoo of a bird whose deep color matched her raven hair. Tattoos had never been a turn-on for me, but seeing one in such an intimate spot on this woman had a profound effect; I wanted this first sight of her aroused body forever in my memory. "Gawd, Rose, don't tease me! Please!" "But you look so beautiful. And I like your birdie . . ." I kissed her ink. Her right hand pulled on her left nipple and her left hand pressed hard on the back of my head. I let her place me just where we needed me. Everything about her against my mouth felt so right. While many of my thoughts and fantasies had been of this moment, now—with my face between Rachael's smooth thighs—all my fantasies paled. I rubbed myself against her the way a feline nuzzles catnip. Her scent wafted through my nostrils and deep into my lungs. The taste of her arousal slid across my tongue to become a part of me. My mind and body sought to claim all of her for my own, and every tiny detail of that process took on the utmost importance. My tongue slipped into her opening. She thrust against me, gasping, and my mind felt drunk. I licked my way up across the slick, smooth split to her throbbing bud. I circled it once and was about to take all of it deep into my hot mouth when she shoved on my head with both hands, pressed her hips tightly to me and began ragged, passionate cries. We have liftoff! Just to make sure. I pulled her flesh into my mouth and applied pressure. Her body became a rigid arc for several seconds. Then Rachael began to thrash and jerk on my couch. "Ohf . . . fuck . . . Ro . . . ooh . . . ose!" Her stupendous climax inspired sympathetic tremors within my own center. Having Rachael's clenching sex on my face was so erotic that my core spasmed without me touching myself. That was a delicious first! We came together for what seemed like several wondrous minutes, but what was probably mere seconds. Time remained meaningless as I drowned in the experience. I know what happens to a woman after that sort of fulfillment. My mouth released her, and my lips kissed her in spots that lacked mass concentrations of nerve endings. I found the taste of the perspiring skin delicious, whether it was the arch of her hips, or the flat of her abs, or the flesh of her thighs. The touches remained soft, offering a lilting counterpoint to her recent overpowering sensations. It was like catching a feather and laying it on a velvet cushion—gentle and slow, and very delicate. After a while her arms began to move. She stroked the back of my head so gently my skin tingled. I sighed. Her eyes were still closed but I saw her luscious nipples wrinkle in response to my teeth on her leg. She palmed her breasts and smiled. "Rosie?" "Yes, Baby?" "I can't move my body . . ." Her voice sounded slow and dreamy. "That's okay." I kissed the tattoo again. "You can stay here as long as you like." My tongue dragged itself up her side. It was rare for lovemaking to be so effortless and so right, a true blessing. "'Kay. But Rose . . ." "Yes, Baby?" It was my turn to smile. "When I can move, you better watch out." "Uh, huh. And why is that?" I smirked to myself. "'Cause I'm a fast learner, and payback is gonna be Hell." "Don't threaten me, Missy," I teased. Then I remembered her classwork and my smile faded. She had always been a quick pupil, able to take something she learned and apply it in new ways. That flash of recall gave me a shudder that was one part dread, two parts anticipation. The dread came from the thought that Rachael might be such a fast study, and be so accomplished, that she would take me someplace from which I would never return. The anticipation came from, well, it, uh, it came from the same thought. My body shuddered again. My tongue ran perilously close to her outer lip, just beneath her trim little triangle. Her body spasmed, just as expected. "Ooo, you're a bad little freak. A very bad, naughty, special little freak!" Her tone made it sound like that was a very good thing to be. I smiled again. If I thought she could handle the sensation at that moment, I would have gladly licked her to another climax—or five! The flavor of her body has already addicted me. "Mmm, my special little freak." She sighed and sounded utterly content. She lay still for a few minutes. I thought she might have fallen asleep, but my lips continued to move across her as my mind buzzed. . . . my . . .? At another time, or with another woman, the possession might have frightened me. Now my hope was that she really meant it— I almost leapt from my skin as her hand rubbed between my legs. "Too, sensitive?" "No, you startled me. I thought you were sleeping." Her face turned to me and her eyes burned into mine. I felt like a fawn staring into tiger's predatory gaze. That startled me. But it flicked a mental switch that had me hyper-aroused in the very next instant. I needed her to devour me, and I did not want to wait much longer. Rachael reached inside my panties and cupped me with her hand. Her middle finger slipped into me. "Oh, Rose, you're sooo wet," she cooed as she traced the length of me then slipped a finger deeper inside. "And sooo hot." When she circled my tiny tip with her drenched fingertip I grabbed her arm to steady myself. She misunderstood my reaction. "Should I stop?" "N-no. God, no!" My hips thrust into her palm for emphasis. "I, I just, needed to, oooh, hold onto, ungh, something. Mmm!" "'Kay." Rachael sounded pleased with herself. She added another finger and stroked my swollen bud with them. I jammed myself down to the floor, trapped her wriggling fingers against me and within me. I climaxed. Hard. Lights and skyrockets went off behind my eyelids. My breathing became labored and ragged. My body quaked and I may have screamed. It felt—amazing! After a time, I slumped toward the couch and fell into Rachael's embrace. While I panted against her chest she stroked my hair and cooed praises. "My Gawd, Rose, that was sooo hot. You're absolutely beautiful when you cum." Her lips brushed my sweaty forehead. "Was that okay, Honey?" I nodded, still breathless. Thank goodness she had removed her hand from my overheated slit, or I might have been forever swept away on the receding tide of the Orgasm Sea. She shifted and stood. I remained sitting on the floor with my upper body slumped over the edge of the sofa. A vague awareness of her shimmying out of her skirt came to me. My head turned and my eyes focused on her nude figure for the first time. Rachael looked so beautiful that my heart ached. I may hold a bias, and I know others may disagree with me. Perhaps her bottom was too small, or her eyes weren't blue, or her thighs could have been smoother, or her mouth was too wide, or her areolas were too tiny, or, or, or. . . But in my mind's eye the paragon of feminine beauty and Rachael were one and the same. "Come here, Honey," she told me. I took her outstretched hands and let her guide me up onto the couch. I slouched down with my feet on the floor. The ethereal aftereffects of orgasm had left me as limp and weak as a newborn kitten. Her hands undid the buttons of my blouse and laid it open. She pulled at my skirt and my hips rose to help her. Next, Rachael undid the front clasp of my bra and peeled the cups from my breasts. The cool air and my heightened arousal stiffened my nipples in an instant. "Oooh, so pretty," she sighed, kneeling between my legs. Her mouth tasted mine and I moaned onto her tongue. "You just lie back and let Rachael make you feel sooo good, 'kay?" One hand reached for her face and caressed her cheek. She held my hand in place and nuzzled my palm. Then she kissed my hand and set it on my tummy. I watched transfixed as Rachael descended on one of my nipples. Her lips formed a tiny "o" as she took it into her turgid grip. The sensations made me quiver, especially between the legs. One of her delicate hands stroked and explored my free breast as her nibbling continued to drive me mad. All I could do was lie back, partially clothed but so exposed, while this nymph worshipped my body with a truly exquisite mouth. Long, thick tresses drifted across my torso like an ebon tide. I bathed in the luxurious caress of Rachael's soft hair that flowed over my body to trail where she nibbled and kissed. My fingers tangled in it and I cupped the back of her head in a gesture of encouragement. My other hand cradled a broom of silken hair and swept it over my receptive skin. It did not occurred to me that Rachael's second hand had been idle until it tickled up and down the inside of my thighs. She switched to my other breast and licked its surface, but avoided both my nipple and, with her fingers, my opening. She teased me until I squirmed, then teased a little more. My grip on her head fell away, but I kept playing her fragrant hair across my chest. "Is that good, Honey?" "Oooh, yeees," I hissed. My head lolled back as I abandoned myself to the pleasures Rachael provided. I placed a hand behind Rachael's head and tried to influence her destination. "You need me to go somewhere, Rose?" Her voice brimmed with suppressed laughter. "Yeah, Baby." "Where?" Her tone taunted me. "Lower." "Lower? Can you tell me where? Here?" She kissed my collar bone. "Lower." "Here?" Her teeth pinched the outside of my right breast. I turned my nipple into her, but Rachel dodged it as she leaned away from me. "Oh, please, lower." "I'm not getting it, Honey. You'll just have to tell me." "Lower. Down, between my legs." "Here?" She leaned down and I knew the relief I so badly needed was finally at hand. Instead, she kissed my inner thigh. I growled and glared at her. "You have to tell me," she said in a sugared voice. "I want to hear you say it, Rose." "Just lick me. Please!" "Teeell me." "My, pussy," I gasped in desperation. "I need you to lick, my . . . my pussy." I grabbed her head in both hands and pulled her to me. "Well, why di—" The rest of her words were smothered by my dripping flesh. I cannot say whether she wore her ever-present smile as she licked through my panties. But I can say that her mouth really was phenomenal. When I peered downward, my hips were submerged beneath a brunette sea and my labia were surrounded by a willing mouth. For an instant I expected her to hesitate at her first intimate taste of a woman, but she could not have been more enthusiastic. My skin flushed with the heat of rampant arousal. Being the one to bring Rachael to two memorable orgasms, having her tease my body in return, and uttering words outside my comfort zone all combined to raise my libido to a fever pitch. It was absolutely delicious! Between her licks and sucks, and the response from my own molten core, my panties had become completely soaked. I raised my hips so she could remove them. She pulled the crotch to one side instead. Her tongue ran up and down several times as I shook, gasped and squirmed down into the couch cushions. She stopped at my tip and suckled the morsel until my body quivered like a struck cymbal. Rachael leaned back as I teetered on the precipice. I tried to pull her to me once more, but she resisted. "Damn, I need you, Baby." If my wanton stare held half as much fire as the rest of my body she was in danger of bursting into flames. Yet Rachael seemed completely unaware of her impending immolation. She glistened with perspiration and it made her hair cling to her temples, cheeks, neck and chest. "Uh, uh, Honey. I don't want you to cum. Not yet." Her hands played with my breasts and stroked my skin. She kissed my leg and slowly moved toward my wet heat. Once there, she started my climb all over again. And she looked absolutely radiant between my trembling thighs. Oh! She is a fast learner. I'm doomed. Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I watched each tiny movement as she had me for dessert. Her tongue teased and explored every bit of me, at times purposefully avoiding the very spots that cried out most for her attention. Her lips made me gasp and sigh as they urged me onward. Sometimes my thin curls veiled her lips. At other times she smoothed her hands on my flesh so I had an unimpeded view of her luscious tongue as it dove into me. It was like watching an artist's paintbrush caress a canvas. At one point her brown eyes gazed up at me with such joyous adoration. I had a fleeting thought as my smile blazed into a quiet gasp. This woman is too easy to love. Rachael twisted her head sideways. Her lips grasped either side of my entire ridge and pressed together until I slowly slipped from her wet kiss. Then she'd open her mouth and take me in again, stroking over and over. I pinched my bursting nipples as she curled one long, graceful finger up into me. It was pure heaven. My sensitive nipples were being rolled and tweaked just as she combined a particularly intense lip squeeze with a deft press of her finger. It was all I could take. My back arched. My eyes rolled back into my head as Rachael toppled me over the edge of the blissful cliff. It was by far the best orgasm I had in my life. And since Rachael got me there, it was also the best dream-come-true ever. In fact, without Rachael I would not have gotten there at all. Of course I had to figure all that out a little later. At that moment in history my brain and my body had melted together in a primordial puddle of protoplasm. The experience turned out just as I wanted it to. When I regained awareness I was naked. My body had become entangled with Rachael's. It took several seconds to determine where she ended and I began. It seemed important to make that determination but later I questioned why. It was a rare moment for me to be so connected to another that we actually became one. Then the moment succumbed to intellectual curiosity and disappeared. Damn intellectual curiosity! I sighed so deeply that my entire frame shook. "Rose? You okay, Honey?" "Y-yes," I stuttered. "What's wrong?" Her body curled around mine as if she could protect me from my own emotions. "I, just, want, to, feel, this, close, to, you, for, a, li', tle, lon, ger." I was practically sobbing. "Oh, Rose." Rachael took my head in her hands and kissed my lips. Her mouth felt so soft and warm, and I never wanted that kiss to end. It was to soothe, rather than to excite, and turned out to be just what I needed. That kiss offered the innocent comfort of a partner, a love. The very next moment, though, I realized that the way our legs intertwined left our nudity so very close. If I thrust my hips forward the slightest bit I was certain we would touch. Having her face so close to mine—and covered with my fragrance—did not help my composure. But somehow I held back. Rachael kissed me again and shifted herself in the process. Yeah, oh, God, yes—there we go! She knew it, too, and at the same instant, because her hips rolled against mine. Rachael whimpered into my mouth. She rubbed us together as our nectar blended in molten pleasure. She arched her back. "Oh, shit! Mmm—oooh!" Rachael struggled to catch her breath. My gorgeous, young, sexy lover lay on top of me as we ground ourselves together. A full curtain of ebony hair cloaked us in secluded heat. Her labia stroked mine, her stiffened clitoris dug into my yielding flesh until it found my clit, too. When her tip invaded my hood and smoothed across my bud, stars clouded my vision and my thighs clasped onto her legs. I grabbed her shoulders and urged her to thrust harder into my body. "More, Baby. Make me cum for you!" "Gawd, Rose, you're sooo sexy." Her voice dropped to a passionate hiss. "Oh, oh, fuck!' I stared, glassy eyed, into her ravenous expression. That word had done nothing to arouse me earlier. But now? Hearing it from those lips still glistening with my juices, watching her angelic face while her body did such devilish things to me, knowing that she was fucking me aroused me as nothing ever had. "God, Rachael," I gasped, "please, fuck me!" She grunted and pulled my thigh hard to her chest. Rachael managed to contort herself and sucked one of my nipples into her mouth. Her tongue and teeth worked the swollen flesh and I arched into her. My hands fisted her hair and I clung to her sweaty form. With one final growl I exploded. It happened so quickly that I was unable to prepare Rachael, to warn her, to have her join me. But my worries proved unfounded as her rhythmic moans against the soft skin of my breast told me all I needed to know. We rode that long tidal wave with each other before we cooled and lay still. Our hearts pounded and our lungs labored, but we remained in that intimate tangle. I guided her head to the side of my neck and felt her tiny kisses on my sweaty shoulder. "Oh, Rose, that was sooo a-mazing." "Mmm, Gawd, you were sooo a-mazing!" I smiled to myself. "I loved the way you taste. It's different than, um, me, ya know?" "So you—I wondered." "You wondered? What??" "Yeah," I told her. "Sometimes the first time, well, a woman can be a little, hesitant. At the taste . . ." "Oh." We lay in the silence, but our hands caressed each other's skin. "Rose?" "Hmm?" "Have you been with a lot of, other . . . girls? Before me?" "Two." I sighed. "One was pretty serious." "And the other?" "She was curious, but it never went anywhere." "I'm sorry." "It's okay. Besides, maybe it was so something better would happen." Rachael lay quiet for a couple of minutes that asked, "Rose, what does it feel like to fall in love?" Holy shit! "Well," I began, trying to think as my mind swam like a drunken sailor through a sea of sex-dorphins. "Well, it's different for each person. It's, um, it's even different for the same person, at different times. With different people—" "Rose?" "It's, well, it's hard to—" "Rosie," she whispered. I paused. "Yes, Rachael." "Do you think you might love me?" Wow, cut to the chase, why don't— "Yes, Rachael. I think I love you. I think I've loved you for a long time now, since you first hugged me at the end of your senior year." She lifted her head and looked me in the face. "And when were you gonna tell me?" "I don't know. I . . . I wasn't sure, if, well, if you could, even, think of me. In that way." Her stare lasted long enough for me to label her "inscrutable." Then it lasted long enough for me to become uncomfortable. At last Rachael spoke. "Huh!" She nestled her face into my neck again. "Well, I love you. Silly Rosie." A Little Hug My arms wrapped around my darling Rachael as if she were the most important person in my life. My eyes stung, my heart soared, and my voice cracked. "I love you, too, Rachael. "Rosie?" "Yes, Baby?" "I'd really like for you to meet my folks." * * * * * * * So that's almost the story I told our daughter. I left out all the unbridled sex because, puh-lease, she's much too young. Even if she was old enough for any sex talk, who wants to hear about their parents making love? Ugh, that would send most people right into therapy. But I told her a bit about the stuff a three-and-a-half-year-old girl can hear, about romance and kissing and falling in love. Besides, she has seen the way Rachael and I treat each other. It has not always been perfect, but it has always, always, been worth it. So our daughter knows things in a family are sometimes difficult, sometimes easy, sometimes sad and sometimes joyful. We role-modeled our relationship based on some old-fashioned values; love, respect, understanding, patience and honesty. But at this second she just wanted to know what it feels like to be in love. So I tried to tell her about the feelings I had when Rachael hugged me all those years ago. Again. She had heard "that old hug story" so many times that she rolled her eyes. Again. I guess I still cannot explain love too well, but I told our little Cynthia Eileen Mitchell-DeWitt that when it happens for her, she'll know. "How, Mommy?" "Well, you'll suddenly feel like you were missing a piece of yourself. And when you look at the person you love it will feel like you've found it." "It?" "You know—the missing piece." "Huh?" Cindy scrunched her nose up the way she does when she thinks my explanations are "lame". Rachael ventured, "Cindy, imagine you're a doughnut." "'Kay." "Now when you're a doughnut, you're all cool and sweet," Rachael struck a pose for emphasis with her hands down her body turned and one shoulder higher than the other. "And, like, a totally perfect doughnut, right?" Cindy nodded. "True, dat. I wanna be choc'lit." "Cool. Now imagine that you see a doughnut hole for the first time." "The little round things, right?" She held her fingers up to show the size. "Right." "'Kay." "And you realize that the doughnut hole will fit right here," Rachael tapped her heart, "and make you complete." "'Kay, complete, like a, cin'min roll?" "Yeah." Rachael and I both grinned at her. God, she's so cute! "So you want to have that doughnut hole to make you feel like the perfect chocolate doughnut/cinnamon roll thingy—" "Cin'min, choc'lit, just like Gampa's pancakes?" "Yes! Now, you never missed the doughnut hole before 'cause you didn't know it belonged here." Rachael tapped her chest again. "But once you saw it you knew there was a part of you that was missing all along." "Oooh." "And what's even better is the doughnut hole feels exactly the same about you!" "It's like that?" Cindy's voice hushed in a thoughtful, skeptical reverence. "Sort of. Except it can feel kinda like falling. That's why people call it—" "'Falling in love', right?' Cindy had Rachael's eyes, and right now they glistened with understanding. It was the same expression she would sometimes get when we'd travel around the country and visit places Rachael experienced that summer long ago. Each time I saw Cindy with that knowing look it felt like Cupid's arrow in my heart. "Right!" "'Kay. cool." She nodded, her dark curls bobbing, and announced, "I'll be in my room. Call me when Gammy and Gampa get here, 'kay?" "All right," I told her. "'Bye, Mommies." "'Bye, Baby," I cooed. "'Bye, Honey," Rachael called at the same instant. We turned to one another, smiling. "I loved your explanation. I don't know why that question is still so difficult for me to explain." "Maybe you're just not good at explanations, Teach," she teased. "Yuh-huh. Thanks." I stuck my tongue at her then said, "But you know you dodged a serious bullet, right?" "Whaaat?" Mischief curled my lips into a smirk as I asked, "What would you have said if she asked which one of us is the 'doughnut' . . . and which one is the 'hole'?" Rachael guffawed. "Whew, you're right. That was a close one." "You better work on your answer. You know she'll ask." "Yeah, damn. She's so smart, and she doesn't forget anything." Rachael's smile grew more lovely every day—especially when she talked about our daughter! I gazed deep into those dark brown eyes framed by her sexy new glasses. "I totally feel it. Right here," I murmured, patting my chest. In all our time together, the bad "it" had never returned. The insecurity and doubt and panic that threatened to drown me in my classroom that fateful day had never returned. With Rachael the only "its" I had known were love and fulfillment, and I told her. "I love you." "I love you, too, Rosie. You just wait till the Princess is over at the folks' tonight." She winked her promise to me. "You're really going to feel 'it' then." "Oh, goody!" "And I have some new silk scarves." The corners of her lips arched, her cheeks colored and she asked, "Any ideas about how we can use them?" "Hmm, I could come up with something." Rachael still maintained her ability to excite me. I felt myself growing warmer and, well, "throbbier" just thinking about making love with her. "Yeah, so, what do you think, Honey? You want to be the doughnut, or—" "Maybe a little of each," I replied. My salacious grin told Rachael I could hardly wait.