So Long, Summer Camp

Chapter 42

Everyone was in the mood for a relaxing evening instead of more sex and games, so Wren mixed a pitcher of white peach sangria and Mark made one of Alabama Slammers. Trip poured himself a Jack and Coke, while I opened a wine cooler.

“You drink like a girl,” he said.

I shrugged, unperturbed.

“Yeah, I guess someone has to. The girls all drink like guys. Well, except Leah.”

“Yep.”

He couldn’t get a rise out of me, so he stewed for a moment and then tried a different approach.

“You mind if I listen to the game while we fire up the grill?”

“Go for it.”

“Pirates-Braves,” he added.

“Mmm.” I resisted the urge to ask if they were going to the Super Bowl.

He retrieved his boom box from inside. Then he set it on the table, plugged it into the outlet, and made a production about the earphone and its cord. It wouldn’t reach to the grill, even if he perched the boom box on the edge of the table. Translation: I could return his little radio any time now.

“Have a seat,” I told him. “Enjoy the game. I’ll cook.” Translation: It’ll be a cold day in hell before I do. You could’ve killed me with that damn backhoe. Besides, work is more important than a stupid game.

I pasted on a fake smile to make sure he understood. Then I filled the grill with charcoal, doused it with lighter fluid, and tossed a match. The fire whooshed to life, and a wave of heat washed over me. I waited for the flames to settle before I sank into the chair next to Trip’s. His attitude gradually mellowed as he listened to the pregame show and the alcohol worked through his system.

Sports and liquor, I snorted silently, two pillars of manhood.

I kept my eye on the fire and my thoughts to myself until the coals were ready to cook. Wren appeared as if summoned. She held out a platter of hamburgers for us carnivorous types and a smaller plate with a couple of portobello mushrooms for Christy.

“Here you go,” she said. “Medium-rare for the burgers, please. About the same for the mushrooms. You can’t really overcook ’em, but she prefers al dente.”

“Yes, chef.”

Wren glowed with a smile, and I was struck by how pretty she was when she was happy. She rose on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. Her expression changed completely when she glanced at Trip. She was annoyed with him, which explained his mood from earlier.

He smiled an apology, and the tension in her shoulders disappeared. She bent to give him a kiss as well. Then she whispered something in his ear. He perked up immediately.

“For real?”

“If you play your cards right,” she said.

“Cool! Yeah! Awesome!”

“Okay. Help Paul with the burgers.”

“You got it, babe.”

She gave me another smile and disappeared into the clubhouse. Trip took out his earphone and joined me at the grill. He knew better than to try to take over, especially after I’d done all the work. He gestured at the fire instead.

“Good job. Nice coals.”

“Thanks.”

“Hot work, though. I’m ready for a refill. You want another ‘man’ cooler?” It was a peace offering.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Back in a sec.”

He returned with a full cup and a cold bottle. I drained half of mine in a single swig. We fell silent and enjoyed two more pillars of manhood, meat and fire. Trip sipped his drink quietly at first, but I could feel him working up to something.

“D’you think Christy’s so small ’cause she doesn’t eat meat?” he said at last.

“I doubt it. Her mother’s small too. Her grandmother’s even smaller. Besides, she eats twice as much as the rest of us.”

“No kidding.”

I smirked. “Including my meat.”

“Ha! Yours and everyone else’s. Whoa! Lemme rephrase—”

“It’s okay,” I chuckled. “I know what you meant.”

“Thank God. Thought I’d stuck my foot in my mouth again.”

“Nah, we’re cool.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry about earlier. I… um… was in a pissy mood.”

“I could tell,” I said without inflection.

“Sometimes I wish I had your personality.”

I snorted.

“I’m serious. Nothing gets you riled up.”

I had a lifetime of experience that said otherwise.

“Well, maybe Granville,” he admitted. “And me. When I try to kill you with the backhoe.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Earlier? Yeah, I could tell.” He sipped his drink. “At least I know when to apologize.”

“You do. Thanks.”

“And now you’re going to tell me I wouldn’t have to if I wasn’t such a butthead.”

“Do I need to?” I teased.

“No, I think I got it.”

Wren emerged from the clubhouse behind us and carried several plates to the table. She said something to the group. Mark stood and returned to the clubhouse with her.

Trip glanced at the table with the four remaining women. They were too far away to overhear, but he still pitched his voice low.

“So, about tonight…,” he said to me. “I know you aren’t the jealous type, or the protective older brother…”

“What? About Erin? No, she’s a grown-up. She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. But still… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage or anything.”

“No.”

“Cool. That’s what I thought, but… you know. Anyway, I think she’s gonna spend the night with us.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, we had a good time this afternoon. Besides, she’s a little sick of you-know-who.”

“Leah?”

“No, Mark.”

My eyebrows rose.

“Yeah, I know,” Trip said. “I think he’s fine, a really cool guy…” He shrugged. “Women. Who knows what they’re really thinking?”

I swallowed a couple of snarky but useless replies. Trip was Trip. He wasn’t going to change his attitude and become enlightened all of a sudden, especially if I mocked him.

“Erin’s pretty straightforward,” I said instead, “especially her emotions.”

“Yeah, that’s true. She’s almost like a guy.”

“Almost,” I agreed blandly.

“Good thing she’s not. I mean, that’d be disgusting.”

My smile was brittle.

“Anyway,” he continued, clueless, “I just wanted to let you know what’s going on. She isn’t your woman or anything, but—”

“None of them are.”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “She’s a free agent. Although… I think I’ll sign her for the season. She’s a helluva catcher. Good with the bat, too.”

I couldn’t mock him for being a chauvinist, but the baseball metaphors were a different story. And a dig about a national championship would’ve been too subtle by half.

“Still hoping to win the World Cup?” I said drolly.

“The what? You mean the World Series.”

“No, the World Cup. Soccer.”

“How can you not love baseball? It’s the great American pastime!”

“Not for me. I was too busy having sex.”

“Fine, rub it in. You’re better with women. I get it. I’m doing okay, though. I’ll have my own harem tonight, same as you.” He glanced at the group and tried to figure out how to one-up me.

“Never gonna happen,” I chuckled.

“What? Brooke? Yeah, no. Wren made that perfectly clear.” His tone explained his pissy mood from earlier. “I’m still the man and all,” he added, “but… you know. Anyway, next order of business. I’m supposed to ask—”

“Remember to let the burgers rest!” Wren called on her way from the clubhouse to the table. She carried a pitcher of sangria, and Mark trailed her with a pitcher of the pink stuff.

“Whatever the hell that means,” Trip said under his breath. “Meat is meat. It doesn’t get tired.”

“Yes, chef!” I called back. It was another dig—Wren was the boss, no matter her gender—but it was too subtle to register.

“I’m s’posed to ask about tomorrow,” Trip continued. “Are we still… you know?”

“We? Are you and Wren coming with us?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “Are you still gonna do it?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Well, good luck. You don’t need it, but still…”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Anyway, let’s eat. I’m starving. All that sex really takes it out of ya, doesn’t it? Ha! You’d know! You were a fat kid, weren’t you? And look at you now!” He meant it as a compliment, but I bristled anyway.

“I wasn’t fat. I was pudgy.” I sounded petulant, but Trip had never been shy and self-conscious, much less gawky. He’d been popular, handsome, and athletic his whole life.

He was probably a good-looking sperm, the little head said.

The fastest, at least. The strongest, too.

But not anymore. Look at us now. I’m bigger and you’re better-looking.

I dunno about that, I hedged.

You are. Besides, we’ve always been better with the ladies.

That’s true.

I mean, while he was King of the Prom, we were in a hotel room…

Having an orgy…

With three hot women.

Top that, Mr. High School Popularity Contest!

I laughed aloud and immediately felt better.

Trip misunderstood, mostly because his natural talents didn’t extend to mind reading. He gave me a cocky grin. Then he raised his voice to the table.

“Hey, babe! You ready for some hot meat?”

Wren rolled her eyes but smiled fondly.

“C’mon,” he said to me. “Let’s give it to ’em.”

* * *

Later that evening, Leah arrived as a bit of a surprise. I’d been expecting her, but not furtive and out of breath. She closed the door behind her and rested her back against it. She looked like an artfully mussed supermodel, except that she was nude and several inches too short to be a part of that Amazon tribe.

I wasn’t about to complain, though, and I knew better than to snicker at her strange behavior. I closed my book instead and used it as an excuse to compose my expression.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

Brooke called from the bedroom, “Is that Leah?”

“Shh,” she hissed.

I stood, and Brooke appeared from the hallway, silent and slightly confused. Christy joined her, equally nonplussed.

“Sorry,” Leah said. She swallowed to moisten her mouth.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I don’t want anyone to know I’m here. I don’t think they saw.”

My brows knitted. “Why not?”

“’Cause I hid in the shadows and ran.”

Her bungalow was thirty feet from ours, not even ten meters. Heh, ten meters. I chuckled but kept it to myself.

“Okay,” I said slowly, “and why don’t you want anyone to know you’re here?”

“Oh, right! That’s what you meant in the first place. Yeah, sorry. I don’t want Erin to know, ’cause I don’t wanna hurt her feelings.”

All of a sudden I realized that Erin hadn’t said anything about spending the night with Trip and Wren. They were planning to do it on the sly, like Leah was doing with us.

“Everything okay?” I asked. “I mean, things were fine at dinner.”

“Yeah, it’s just that I’m not in the mood for a big production. I’m not in the mood for Trip, either, and his muff-diving jokes, like he’s God’s gift to pussy-eating. Not to mention his snide little comments about how he likes ‘a little grass on the field.’ Ugh! I don’t do it for him. Besides, it’s my body!”

She sounded so much like Christy that my eyes crinkled in amusement. Brooke bit her lip, and Christy herself had to physically cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I’m serious,” Leah said. “He’s normally pretty cool, especially when it’s just them and us. But lately he’s a macho jerk. It’s annoying. And I’m tired of his BS.”

“You don’t have to tell us,” Christy said. “We completely understand.”

“I think he’s fine,” Brooke said.

“You don’t have to live with him,” Christy shot back.

“Neither do you.”

“Whoa,” I said before the argument could escalate. “Trip might not be perfect, but he isn’t so bad. He’s better than Vaughn, Todd, or Fletcher.”

Each of the girls grimaced at the names from their past.

“Oh, God,” Leah said, “I hadn’t thought about Todd Zachary in years. What a fucking asshole.”

I blinked in surprise, not at the sentiment, but her language. She usually didn’t swear like that. She suppressed her emotions by switching into journalist mode.

“Vaughn was yours?” she said to Brooke. Then she thought back. “No, Fletcher.”

Brooke frowned, and she switched into scientist mode.

I stifled a laugh at how their personalities suited their chosen fields.

“How’d you know?” Brooke said. “Did Chris tell you? Sorry, Christy. Did she tell you?”

“No. It’s just that I know Paul.”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“She knows I’d mention Christy first,” I explained.

“For real?”

“I told you,” Christy said to her, “he’s very precise.”

“Evidently.”

“So, this Fletcher guy,” Leah said into the silence. “Did he rape you, too?”

Brooke’s eyes widened. “What? No!”

“He was just a loser,” Christy said. “A lying, cheating loser. Oh, and he was bad in bed.”

“Is that all?” Leah laughed.

“Is that what Todd did?” Christy asked. “Rape you? For real? Rape-rape?”

“Close enough,” Leah said. “I’d rather not talk about it, though. I take it that Vaughn was gentler with you?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. He was fine.”

Brooke snorted.

“He was,” Christy insisted. “Yeah, he was a jerk, but I learned a lot.”

“So?” Brooke said impatiently. “You didn’t need him to— um… you know.”

Leah’s eyebrows rose with a dozen questions, but she kept them to herself. She looked at her watch instead.

“You’d better get going,” she said, “or Mark’ll think I got caught.”

“I’ll get my things.” Brooke disappeared into the back and returned with her overnight bag. She’d packed her toiletries and some lingerie, but I’d overheard her and Christy talking about her butt plug, lube, and a blindfold. Mark was in for a fun night.

“If you don’t mind,” Leah said, “stay out of sight. I’d rather not answer questions tomorrow about ‘midnight liaisons’ or ‘secret rendezvous.’”

Christy snorted.

“What?”

“He doesn’t use words like that,” she said. “Trip, I mean.” She imitated him perfectly, “Did y’all have a double-header without me, the star pitcher?”

“Wow, you even know how he talks!”

“It’s a trick she does,” Brooke said. “Uncanny, isn’t it?”

“No kidding.”

“Wait till she imitates you.”

“Wait till she imitates you,” Christy said in the same tone and cadence.

Leah’s eyebrows rose.

Christy affected a soft southern accent and said to Brooke, “Come on, let’s do this. You have a midnight liaison.”

“Do I really sound like that?” Leah said.

We all nodded.

“Oh, God! I’ll never be on TV with that accent.”

“It isn’t so bad,” Christy said.

“It isn’t,” Brooke agreed. “Nothing like I used to sound.”

Christy did a Texas twang, “Get along now, li’l missy, t’ yer secret ron-day-voo.”

“I didn’t sound like that and you know it,” Brooke said in her normal California voice. “Besides, you know I hate it when you do that.”

Christy nodded smugly. Then she beamed, and Brooke shook her head in defeat. She did her best not to smile but lost that battle too.

“You know you love me,” Christy said.

“I do,” Brooke said. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

“Leah’s right,” I said, if only to move things along. “You’d better get going. Mark’s waiting for you.”

“He’s probably jerking off,” Leah laughed.

“Hurry!” Christy urged. “Before it’s too late.”

Brooke suffered a wave of doubt.

“Oh, please,” Christy said, serious again. “You know you want to. You can do this.”

“Easy for you to say,” Brooke muttered.

“Easy for you to do. Just walk in there and tell him you need a good, hard you-know-what.”

“Fucking,” I supplied, and Leah grinned at the byplay. “Want me to go with you?” I asked Brooke.

“Yes.” She caught Christy’s disapproval and reversed herself. “No, I can do it.” She took a deep breath and muttered, “I need more alcohol.”

“Oh,” Leah said brightly, “Mark has some.” Then her smile turned guilty. “We… um… have a secret stash.”

“The good stuff?” I said. “Yeah, we do too.” In our case it was convenience—I didn’t want to traipse across the patio at midnight if Christy simply wanted a nightcap.

Brooke hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. “Here I go. Hope I don’t chicken out between here and there.”

Leah opened the door and belatedly reached for the light switch. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. The porch fell into darkness, and light from inside spilled out. A snarky part of me wanted to suggest a bullhorn.

It didn’t matter. No one was spying on us. Trip and Wren were probably in bed with Erin already. They’d gone to their separate bungalows, but I was pretty sure Erin had snuck over, just like Leah had done.

“Have fun,” Christy was saying to Brooke. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Brooke nodded, accepted a hug of encouragement, and walked into the night. Leah thrust her head out and looked both ways, in case anyone still didn’t know that we were up to something. She pulled back quickly and closed the door.

“Just checking. The coast was clear.”

I chuckled. “You need to work on your cloak-and-dagger skills.”

“What? Why? Never mind. You’re probably right, especially if I wanna recruit the next Deep Throat.”

“Mmm,” Christy said dreamily, “you said ‘deep throat.’”

Leah frowned before she understood. Then she laughed, and it was Christy’s turn to frown.

“What’s so funny?”

“She was talking about Watergate,” I explained. “You’re talking about fellatio.”

“Mmm, you said ‘fellatio.’”

Leah grinned.

“She has a one-track mind,” I added dryly.

“I noticed!” Leah’s dark eyes glinted with a smile before her expression sobered. “But… d’you mind if I shower first? I didn’t have time earlier, and I’d like to get cleaned up. I smell like chlorine. And… um… I don’t want a five o’clock shadow.” She looked at Christy. “I hate to ask, but d’you mind if I borrow your razor?’

“Why don’t you join her,” I suggested to Christy. “Then you can help.”

“That’d be awesome,” Leah said. “Would you?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!”

* * *

A cloud of steam billowed out of the bathroom and into the hall. The edge rolled under the lintel and into the bedroom. Wisps crawled along the ceiling, and a practical part of me wondered if the builders had used green board in the bathroom. They probably had, although I was sure they’d used regular white board for the hall and bedroom ceilings.

Seriously? the little head said. Drywall?

Hey, water intrusion is a serious thing.

Silence.

Yeah, I know, I sighed. Focus. I rolled to my feet and called to the girls, “I probably know the answer, but did you—?”

Christy appeared in the bedroom door. She wore a towel turban, a smile, and nothing else. Leah slid into place beside her, five inches taller but dressed the same. She would’ve been slender compared to anyone else, but she looked soft and curvy next to Christy.

Their skin glowed with a sheen of steam. Christy’s was caramel, while Leah’s was a darker version of her normal café au lait. Their breasts were firm and about the same size, capped with chocolate nipples. Leah’s pussy was smooth and perfect, her labia slightly darker than the rest of her. Christy’s was tan with a hint of pink, from arousal, the shower, or both.

“Save any hot water for me?” I finished weakly. “Never mind, I’ll take a cold one.”

Christy pretended to pout. “You don’t wanna play with us?”

“I do, but I wanna shower too. And…” I winked at Leah. “I have my own five o’clock shadow. You want me nice and smooth, don’t you?”

Her dark eyes flashed with anticipation.

“Oh, I suppose,” Christy said in mock-resignation. She grinned over her shoulder and said in her belle voice, “What evah shall we do?”

“You have to teach me how to do that,” Leah laughed.

“It’s easy. Just imagine who you want to sound like.”

“Sure, easy,” Leah said with lighthearted sarcasm.

“Good luck,” I told her. “Christy has a couple of advantages she isn’t telling you about.”

Christy herself frowned in consternation.

“Like perfect pitch?” I said.

“Oh, that. I thought you meant—”

“Perfect what?” Leah said.

“I’ll let her explain,” I said. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies…”

They slid apart, and I moved between them. I didn’t intentionally fondle either of them, but my penis brushed Christy’s hip, and my arm touched Leah’s breast.

“Sorry about that,” I said insincerely.

“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.

“Jinx!” Christy said. “You owe me a Coke.”

“You mean, ‘Jinx, you owe me a cock,’” Leah quipped.

“I know, right?”

“Hold that thought,” I told them as I stepped into the bathroom. “We’ll be right back.”

“We?” Leah teased.

“Him and Mr. Big,” Christy said.

“Oh, that’s right!”

I showered as quickly as I could. The water wasn’t freezing—the supply wasn’t very cold to begin with, and the water heater added a few degrees before it arrived at the nozzle—but it wasn’t my idea of pleasant. Still, I dutifully ran a razor over my pubes until they were baby-smooth.

I dried off and used the towel to rub some heat into my limbs. Then I checked myself in the mirror and decided that “shy turtle” wasn’t my best look, especially with no pubic hair to hide it. So I took a minute to coax my penis and testicles out of hibernation. Then I stepped into the hall and leaned against the bedroom door.

“Hey there, ladies,” I said in a bad porn star voice. It sounded stupid, but I was going for laughs instead of seduction.

The girls didn’t disappoint.

“Did someone order a Chippendale?” Leah joked.

“Oh my gosh, yes, please,” Christy said.

They were sitting together on the bed, and Leah was in the middle of plaiting Christy’s hair into a French braid.

“I dunno about Chip and Dale,” I said, “but I’ve been a good little squirrel.”

Christy laughed and Leah frowned.

“I don’t get it.”

“He’s been a good little squirrel,” Christy said over her shoulder. “He saved up his nuts.”

I cupped the nuts in question and jiggled them. My semi-hard penis flopped like an elephant’s trunk, albeit a pink one from some species of pygmy pachyderm.

Did you just call me small? the little head griped.

Yes. You were having delusions of grandeur. Now, pipe down.

“Seriously?” Christy said. “Now?”

Leah wrinkled her forehead. “Now what?”

“He was talking to his penis.”

“He does that too?” Leah laughed. “I thought Mark was the only one.”

My opinion of Mark went up another notch.

Or ten, the little head added.

“Stop!” Christy laughed. “Just… stop.”

“What was he saying?” Leah asked. “Could you tell?”

“Something about size. He does that sometimes. He’s very self-conscious about it.”

“Size in general or his dick?”

“Both, but probably his penis.”

“For real?” Leah said. “What is it about guys? Like Mark, this afternoon. I mean, you heard him.”

Christy nodded, and Leah resumed plaiting her hair.

“Paul’s always been self-conscious about his size,” Leah added. “Not so much his dick—he’s always been bigger’n other guys—but in general. He used to be kinda chunky. Did he tell you that?”

Christy nodded.

“Then he went the other direction,” Leah continued. “He was skin and bones last summer. He looked… gaunt. We kept trying to get him to eat.”

“I remember,” Christy said. “He’d lost, like, a ton of weight.”

Leah surveyed me with a critical eye. “You’ve probably gained ten pounds since then.”

“More like fifteen,” I admitted. “But it’s mostly muscle.”

“Well, you don’t look like a bodybuilder or anything. I mean, you do, but in a good way.” She said to Christy, “I’ve never liked meathead guys.”

“Me neither.”

“I don’t care about penis size, either. Really, I don’t.”

“I do,” Christy said, “but only ’cause Paul’s is perfect.”

“I’m sure it is,” Leah said with a grin.

I gyrated my hips and made my dick swing in a circle.

“Now that’s impressive!” Leah laughed.

“Quit showing off and join us,” Christy said.

“Yes, dear.” I climbed onto her side of the bed, stretched out, and propped my chin on my fist.

Leah finished plaiting Christy’s hair. She removed a ponytail band from her wrist and snapped it around the end of the braid.

“I love your hair, especially the color,” she said. “And the waves! I wish mine had more body.”

“No! It’s beautiful.” Christy turned and gushed, “It’s so dark and silky and exotic. Oh my gosh, I wish mine was long and soft like yours.”

“You really like it?” Leah said in surprise. “I’ve always thought it was too plain. I mean, it’s straight and basic black. How boring. And I can’t do anything with it, unless I wanna spend an hour and use a whole can of hairspray.”

“Oh, no! You could do all sorts of things.” She tilted her head and studied her. “What do you think about a braided chignon?”

“Braided? I usually just twist it up…”

“It’s much nicer this way,” Christy said. “Your hair’s perfect for it, especially with your bangs. Here, I’ll show you.”

Leah turned to face me, and Christy began running a comb through her damp hair. Leah smiled wryly.

“We’ve come full circle.”

“How so?” I wondered.

“Last year? When you showed up on my doorstep?”

“Which time?”

“The one where you looked like crap.”

“Oh, yeah. Not my best day.” I’d been dirty and tired, worn out from too much self-loathing and self-inflicted abuse. I’d also been living in my car for a couple of weeks, although that wasn’t strictly true. I’d been living in bars and sleeping with random women almost every night. I didn’t have very clear memories of the time, for obvious reasons.

“Right after the new year?” Christy asked.

“Yeah,” Leah said over her shoulder. “How’d you know?”

“He disappeared for, like, a month. We didn’t know where he’d gone.”

“It wasn’t a month,” I said, a familiar refrain. “More like a week.”

“He came to my house,” Leah said. “Obviously.”

“And you let me stay in the guesthouse,” I added. “You cleaned me up and put me back together again.”

“Like Humpty Dumpty,” she agreed.

“He didn’t tell me about that,” Christy said. “What happened?”

“Nothing much,” Leah said. “I mean, I gave him a shave and a haircut…”

“Two bits,” I joked in a lame attempt to lighten the mood.

The girls weren’t having it.

“No, it was free,” Leah said. To Christy again, “Then I made him tell me what happened. I’ll spare you the details, but he bared his soul. He even told me he wanted to kill himself.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did.”

Christy’s eyes flicked to me, and her eyebrows rose. My face flushed hot at the memory, and she had her answer.

“I think that’s when I started to fall in love with him,” Leah said to her. “I mean, for real. I’d always had a crush on him, but our timing was horrible.”

Christy finished combing Leah’s hair and admired it for a moment. Then she gathered several strands and began a thin braid on the left side.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying that,” Leah said tentatively. “That I love him.”

“I don’t mind. He feels the same about you.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

“I do.” She even smiled at me when she said it.

Leah fell silent. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I mean, I have a bunch of questions I wanna ask, but…” She shrugged. “I guess it was when you started combing my hair. It made me think of that time, back in our guesthouse. It was… special. Like… our first time.” She stared into space and laughed, softly and to herself. “In a way, it was, our first time… as real lovers.”

Christy nodded and finished the braid she was working on. She started another one just like it, a couple of inches higher.

“I know I’m not making sense,” Leah said. “But… this feels like when Paul did it. We made love afterward, and… it was really nice.” She fell silent and relived the past. Then she turned. “Do you hate me?”

“No, of course not,” Christy said.

“I didn’t think so, but…” She shrugged. “Then, do you mind if I ask you something? Why don’t you like Gina?”

“I don’t dislike her,” Christy hedged.

“But you don’t want anything to do with her.”

“No.”

“Then… why’m I different?”

Christy spent a long time thinking about it. She finished the higher braid and started another on the right, just above Leah’s ear.

“I suppose because you didn’t try to take him from me,” she said at last.

“Is that all?” Leah laughed.

“It’s enough.”

“Lucky me. I’d hate to be on your bad side.”

“Me too,” Christy said, a silk glove over a steel gauntlet.

“I heard that,” Leah said. “You’re strong enough to stand up to him, aren’t you?”

“Not really.”

“I think you are.”

“Mmm.”

“Well, you make him happy. And he’s gained weight, which is good.”

“Clean living,” I joked, and both girls looked at me. “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll shut up now.”

“Mmm, yes, dear.”

“He really is,” Leah said with a smile in her voice. “Happy. You are too, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Christy said without thinking. Then, “What do you mean?”

“Just that I remember the first time I met you…”

“Back when you came to stay with him?” She phrased it as a question, but she probably remembered every detail like it was yesterday. She met my gaze and silently asked me not to give her away.

“Yes,” Leah said. Then she laughed. “I didn’t have a clue. I mean, I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I never even thought how it would affect you.”

“Why would you?” Christy asked.

“Because you loved him, even then.”

“No, it was only a crush,” she lied.

Leah snorted but was too polite to disagree openly. They fell silent. Christy started a fourth braid, thin like the others.

“You know,” Leah said at last, “she still loves him.”

“Who? Gina?”

“Who else?”

“I suppose.”

“But she wants him to be happy. You too. She told me. I mean, explicitly. She wanted me to tell you.”

Christy didn’t know what to say.

“Kara and my mom too,” Leah added. “Even my dad noticed how happy he is. They were a little surprised, though, especially when I told them we’d be staying here, at the Retreat, with you all.”

“Why?”

“They all thought he’d end up with Gina or me, so they were a little worried that you might not want to have anything to do with us.”

“That’s crazy,” Christy said, although it was automatic.

Leah was a good interviewer—she knew when to bide her time and let her subject work through her feelings.

“Fine, I suppose you’re right,” Christy said. “I don’t want him to see Gina. I won’t try to stop him, but…” She shrugged. “It’s different with you. I can’t explain it. It just is.”

“Is it because of us?” Leah asked. “You and me? Because there are plenty of women who look like me but aren’t me.”

Christy snorted softly to show what she thought of that.

“Thank you,” Leah said quietly. “I feel the same. That’s why I wanted to spend the night.”

Christy nodded.

“I mean, this afternoon was fun,” Leah continued, “but it wasn’t the same. I… wanted more.” She thought of something and smiled. “I’m not sure of what, though. More of Paul or more of you?”

“Where does one end and the other begin?” I said, and it was so appropriate that neither of them told me to be quiet.

“I think you’re right,” Leah said after a moment. “Maybe that’s it, what I couldn’t figure out.” She lapsed into silence and then said, “My mother’s right.”

Christy raised an eyebrow, but I spoke for both of us, “Oh?”

“Maybe I do interview people.”

I chuckled.

“I just don’t do a good job of it,” she lamented. “I mean, I had this whole list of questions, yet I haven’t asked one of them.”

“You’ve asked the important ones,” I said.

“You really think so?”

“Mmm.”

Christy finished the last thin braid. She drew all four of them together in the back and used a single band to hold them. She began a larger braid with Leah’s remaining hair. She kept it loose and finished quickly. Then she secured the end, twisted it up, and tucked it inside the loop of the smaller braids.

Leah’s dark, silken hair gathered in a wavy mass at the nape of her neck, and the braids at the side added an elegant touch. Her bangs hung to her eyebrows and curled under, while tendrils of longer hair framed her face.

“Paul, dear, will you bring me some bobby pins,” Christy said. “They’re on the dresser. My little hand mirror, too, please.” She explained to Leah, “Your hair’s too heavy to stay by itself.” Then she noticed that I still hadn’t moved. “Paul…?”

Leah gave me a self-conscious glance.

I shook myself.

“What? Is it that bad?”

Christy arched an eyebrow, a clear order to say something nice. I didn’t need to think very hard to come up with something.

“Heavenly.”

Leah misunderstood, and Christy’s eyebrow demanded something more descriptive.

“You look heavenly,” I said. “Stunning. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Seriously? I’m not wearing any makeup or anything.”

“You don’t need it,” Christy said. “Your skin’s flawless. And your bone structure is amazing.”

“Venus herself would be jealous,” I added.

“Now I know you’re lying,” Leah laughed, a bit nervously.

Christy nodded to me, and I hopped up. I handed her several bobby pins, and she used them to hold Leah’s lustrous hair in place.

“There. Now you can look without my hands in the way.”

I handed her the mirror.

“Oh, wow.” Leah studied herself from several angles.

“Do you mind if I draw you?” Christy asked.

“Oh, no,” Leah said, “I couldn’t.”

Christy didn’t argue directly. “Paul, dear…?”

“Coming right up.” I fetched her sketchbook from the nightstand on her side. “Pencil or charcoal?”

Christy tilted her head to the side. “Pencil, I think.”

I handed it to her.

“No, seriously,” Leah protested, “I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “The mirror doesn’t do you justice.”

“How can it not? I mean… it’s a mirror.”

“Trust me. Lie here.” I plumped a pillow and had her pose like Titian’s Venus of Urbino.

Christy began sketching, while Leah tried to relax. She knew she was beautiful and normally tried to downplay it, but posing for an artist was completely outside her comfort zone.

“Get used to it,” I told her. “Just imagine it’s a screen test or something. For the Nightly News.”

“I wouldn’t be nude, though. That’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“I dunno,” I joked, “‘Nudes at Eleven’ would probably have pretty good ratings.”

She snorted. “I want them to take me seriously.”

“They will! Okay, maybe not the guys who tune in just to jerk off—”

“All of them,” she laughed.

“Probably some women too.”

“I’m so sure!”

“Stop moving,” Christy commanded. “And you, stop making her laugh.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wow, she’s serious,” Leah said.

“She is. She also has more talent in her little finger than I have in my whole body.”

“For real?”

“Yep. She created a piece last year that…”

We talked about art for nearly thirty minutes. Then Christy shook off her trance, and the room seemed to contract. She studied what she’d drawn.

“I still need to finish the background and shading, but…”

“May I see?” Leah asked.

“I normally don’t share until it’s finished. Well, except with Paul. But I suppose I’ll make an exception.” She turned the sketchbook and handed it to her.

Leah stared, mouth agape.

Christy had drawn her from the chest up. She was looking to the side, her chin out, proud and confident. Her dark, silken hair accentuated her long neck and smooth shoulders. Intelligence lived in the set of her eyes, and her full, pouting lips hinted at a thirst for truth. Christy had seen through Leah’s outer glamour and captured her inner beauty, her strength and determination.

“Oh, wow,” Leah said at last, almost reverently.

Christy’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. I’d like to paint you for real sometime. And maybe sculpt you.”

“I’d like that.” Leah’s expression shifted, and she smiled wryly. “Do you ever draw Paul?”

“Of course. All the time, as a matter of fact.”

“Nude?”

Christy nodded, and I felt disjointed as the mood shifted from serious to playful.

“What about his dick?” Leah asked.

“What about it?” I said suspiciously.

“I’m just curious. I’d like to know how she sees you. I mean, are you, ahem, larger than life?”

“Oh my gosh, no!” Christy said. “He’s almost too big now. Besides, he’s the one who exaggerates his size.”

“What do you mean?” Leah asked, and she let Christy decide which question to answer.

“Only that he’s the perfect size. Well, perfect for me. Any bigger and I couldn’t deep throat.”

“I still can’t believe you can do that,” Leah said. “I mean, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…”

“It took me a while to learn.”

“But now she’s world class,” I said. “Certified and everything.”

“Hold on,” Leah laughed. “Is there a world governing body I don’t know about? Do they have a committee to make rules for certification?”

“Of course,” Christy said cheerfully. “Linda Lovelace is the chairman—”

“Shouldn’t that be chairwoman?” Leah corrected.

“Oh, right. Chairwoman. Sorry.”

“Who else is on this committee? And what’re the rules?”

“It’s sort of like the military,” Christy said. “You have the CINC at the top, the Cocksucker in Chief.”

Leah’s eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t suppress a grin, although she didn’t want to interrupt.

“Then on down through the ranks,” Christy continued. “You have the four-star and three-star cocksuckers. They’re like Admirals and Vice Admirals. Then you have the Rear Admirals.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like anything to do with the butt, so I’m going to skip those ranks.”

“Of course,” Leah chuckled. “That’s your prerogative.”

“Exactly.”

“What’re you now? I mean, what rank?”

“I haven’t been doing it very long, so I’m only a Lieutenant Cocksucker. But I’m planning to make a career of it, so I’ll be promoted to Captain one day.”

“This sounds like a great TV show,” Leah said. “You know, one of those late-night shows on satellite, ‘The Adventures of Captain Cocksucker.’”

“I know, right!” Christy agreed. “Only, Captain Cocksucker needs a trusty sidekick.” She thought for a moment before she grinned broadly. “Commander Come-lover.”

Leah managed to keep a straight face, although I knew her well enough to see the laughter bubbling just below the surface. Then she straightened her back, put her hand to her ear like a radio announcer, and spoke into an imaginary microphone.

“They’re lusty ladies with a taste for testosterone, a penchant for penis, and a flair for fellatio! Tune in to watch their adventures as they suck the salty semen from every man they meet!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Christy cried.

Their eyes burned with the fire of adventure before they collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said at last. “I think I’ve met my match.”

“My partner in crime,” Leah agreed.

“Who needs Paul and Mark?”

Leah’s hand shot into the air. “I do!”

“Wait! I do too,” Christy said. “Mmm, speaking of which…” She looked at Leah. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Commander Come-lover, reporting for duty!”

The little head snapped to attention. I got this.

* * *

Leah flopped to the bed and lay on her back. She stared at the ceiling and caught her breath, while Christy crawled up and nestled alongside me. I put my arm around her, and she sighed.

“That was fun,” Leah said.

Christy raised her head to look at her. “You aren’t upset?”

“What? That you didn’t share? Not really. Besides, you didn’t have much choice.”

Because I’d been holding her head down.

“I thought you were going to choke,” Leah continued. “How’d you learn to do that?”

Christy shrugged and rested her head on my chest again. “I just did.”

“I mean, don’t you gag?”

“When he comes? No, I just swallow normally.”

“Yeah, but his dick was in your throat. Like, all the way.”

“Mmm, I know.”

“Still, you don’t get to taste it at all.”

“I don’t care,” Christy said. “I… I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” Leah said. “I saw your face. I mean, you almost looked like you were coming too.”

“Um…”

Leah sat up in surprise. “For real? You came?”

“I almost always do,” Christy admitted, “especially when he shoots down my throat.”

Leah’s expression sharpened. “Can you come just from sucking?”

“No. I was playing with myself.”

“Ah, okay. I thought you might be like Linda Lovelace for real.”

“No,” Christy said, “my clitoris is right where it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah, I know.” All of a sudden she laughed. “Why’m I not surprised?”

“About what?”

“That you know Deep Throat. I mean, you mentioned it before, but I guess I thought it was Paul’s influence.”

“No, he didn’t really watch porn before he met me.”

“I did, sort of,” I said, “but not really.”

“What else didn’t he do before he met you?” Leah wondered.

“Oh, lots of things,” Christy said.

“So, you aren’t going to tell me?”

“I didn’t say that…”

“Ha! Okay, we’ll come back to it,” Leah said. “Then, do you mind if I ask…? What’s a nice Catholic girl doing with a bunch of swingers? And practically engaged to one whose sister is more or less begging him to screw her!”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that,” Leah laughed. “I mean, we all thought you were a bit of a prude when we first met you—”

“I’m not.”

“No kidding. You corrected that misconception in a hurry. But it’s a bit of a stretch from swinging to incest.”

“What do you mean?” Christy asked cautiously.

“Well, that isn’t an adjustment you make overnight. I mean, I grew up with the idea that it’s okay to fool around with your siblings, as long as no one gets hurt. So did Paul, obviously. And Erin’s wanted it for about as long as I’ve known her. At least, since Paul stopped being a dork.”

“Wait,” Christy said, “Paul was a dork? He wasn’t always this cool?”

“Didn’t—?”

“She was changing the subject,” I said before she could get away with it. I squeezed her in reassurance. “You can tell her,” I said. “She’s one of the few people who understands.”

Christy fell silent for a long time, and Leah knew better than pressure her. Finally, she sat up.

“I’m gonna need a lot more alcohol if we’re going to have this conversation.”

“Good idea,” I said. “I think we could all use a drink.” I rolled toward the end of the bed and hopped to the floor. We kept our liquor stash in a cardboard box in the closet, but the current bottle sat atop the dresser with a pair of glasses.

“Sorry,” I said as I retrieved them, “we only have two.”

Leah didn’t mind. “You and I can share. I mean, if it’s all right with you,” she asked Christy.

“What? Oh, of course.”

“There’s a metaphor here,” I said, “but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Funny, ha ha,” Christy said. “Now, hurry up and pour,” she added with uncharacteristic abruptness, “before I run screaming.”

Leah’s eyebrows rose but she didn’t say anything.

I filled a glass with two fingers of whiskey and handed it to Christy. She drained it straight away and handed it back. I poured again, and she finished that as well. Leah watched with growing concern.

“Her metabolism,” I said. “It takes more to affect her.”

“Keep ’em coming,” Christy said to me. “Sorry, please.”

“Last one. Then you have to slow down.”

She nodded and accepted the glass. She emptied it in two swigs instead of one. Then she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths through her nose.

I poured whiskey into the other glass and passed it to Leah, who took a polite sip before she handed it back. I gazed into the cut-glass tumbler and swirled the rich amber liquid. Then I drained it. The alcohol bit the back of my throat and filled my sinuses with eighty-proof fumes.

“It’s a shame to do that to good whiskey,” Christy said. “We’re supposed to enjoy it.”

I nodded and let the fumes dissipate. “Needs must when the devil drives.”

“You and your words,” she said fondly, a completely different person from just a few minutes before. She extended her glass, and I clinked the bottle against its rim. I poured a splash. She made puppy dog eyes, so I added a bit more. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t drink it yet.”

“In that case, you’re welcome. And thank you.”

“He doesn’t like it if I get too far ahead of him,” she added in an aside to Leah, who raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve never actually seen her drunk-drunk,” I said. “Super-tipsy, but never falling-down.”

“It’s annoying,” Christy said. “I have to drink, like, ten times as much as anyone else.” It was her usual exaggeration.

“Not ten times,” I said, “but close.”

“Anyway, where were we?” Christy asked. “Oh, right, Paul and Erin. So, what do you want to know?”

Leah’s eyes glinted with amusement instead of concern.

“How did I go from swinging to incest?” Christy repeated. “You’re right, it’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Then… how’d you do it?”

“Easy. The incest came before the swinging.”

Leah’s eyes widened. When she recovered she looked to me for confirmation.

“She never actually did anything,” I said.

“But I sure thought about it,” Christy added darkly.

“With your brothers?” Leah asked. “All of ’em at once?” She grinned at me. “One at a time? Or…?”

“Just one. Laurie.”

“He’s the one who…?”

“Died.” Christy closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Then she sipped her drink, although it was more for reassurance than the alcohol.

“I’m so sorry,” Leah said quietly.

I poured a couple of fingers into the glass I held. I handed it to her.

“I really shouldn’t,” she said, “especially if—”

“Drink up. This is an interview, but not the kind you’ll ever share.”

“No fucking kidding,” she said under her breath. She kept the glass and sipped again.

“I should probably start at the beginning,” Christy said. “Well, not the beginning-beginning, but you’ll figure it out.”

Leah nodded.

“So, Vaughn first. Then Lani and Peter.”

Leah was a good listener already, and she had the makings of a great journalist. She fell silent as Christy told the tale of Vaughn and how he’d introduced her to blowjobs.

I was hoping to hear something new, but Christy’s extraordinary memory almost forced her to repeat a story the same way, sometimes word for word. She was basically quoting herself. She changed a few things to fit the circumstances, but the details were the same.

Leah knew what to expect by the time Christy reached the point where Vaughn moved back to the mainland. She nodded along as Christy described her suspicions about Lani and Peter’s relationship, and the changes in his personality, his withdrawal, guilt, and anger.

“It’s such a major taboo,” Leah said. “Most people are totally unprepared to deal with it.”

“It was perfect for Lani,” Christy said. “She knew Peter couldn’t brag about what they did.”

“She didn’t have to worry about her reputation,” Leah agreed. “So, what happened next? I’m almost afraid to ask, but… it sounds like… it didn’t end well, did it?”

“No. Peter quit the swim team. He got a new job and worked every day after school. Then he went to college in Hilo instead of Honolulu. He wanted to get away. Not just from the guilt,” she added, “but from the temptation too.”

She glanced at me and flushed slightly when I recognized my own words. I didn’t call her on it, though. Every storyteller borrows a line or two from time to time. (Ahem. Let’s not point any fingers, shall we? But I digress. Back to the story.)

“What about Lani?” Leah asked.

“We were still friends,” Christy said, “but things were never the same. Then my father got a new command and we left for San Diego. That was probably the one time I was happy to move.”

“No kidding!”

“Then I met Brooke. We hit it off immediately, ‘like a house on fire.’ Her family lived near us and had a pool, so we hung out there after diving camp ended.”

“Hold on,” Leah said, “I thought Brooke was a swimmer. Did she do both?”

“No, only me. But it was the same camp. Well, the same pool.”

“Ah, okay. Sorry to interrupt. Keep going.”

“Right. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Brooke and her brother. So, she’s the baby of the family too.”

“That makes three of us,” Leah said with a grin.

“Oh, yeah! Right!”

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt. Continue.”

“Right, so… Brooke and Hunter are five years apart, like me and Laurence.”

“Did they ever do anything?” Leah asked.

Christy glanced at me with a question.

“I don’t think she’d mind if we shared a little.”

She confirmed it with a slight headshake.

“They didn’t,” I said to Leah. “She had a crush on him—”

Christy nodded emphatically.

“—but she only ever spied on him.”

“Doing what?” Leah asked.

I chuckled. “What guys do, jerking off.”

“Okay,” she said, “I know this is off-topic, but… what is it with you guys? I don’t get it. I mean, I suck Mark off every day, sometimes twice. And we have sex all the time. But he still jerks off. And not just once in a while. Like, all the time.”

“I do too,” I said, which didn’t surprise Christy at all. Evidently, I hadn’t been as discreet as I’d thought. “Sometimes just a quickie in the shower,” I added, “for pressure relief. But sometimes just ’cause I like doing it.”

“I’d be a little worried if he didn’t masturbate,” Christy said, which did surprise me.

Leah too. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah. He might be getting attention from someone else—”

“Never,” I said.

“—someone I don’t know about,” she finished.

“Oh, okay,” Leah said. “That makes sense.”

“I know things are fine—between us, I mean—as long as he does it. It doesn’t bother me.” She glanced at me and added, I might like to watch, though. Then she made an insistent little scribbling gesture. Note to self…

Yes, dear, I chuckled. I’ll let you watch me masturbate.

Thank you.

Leah followed the exchange and grinned, although she grew serious again.

“Yeah,” she said, “but that’s Paul. Mark’s enough like him, but still… it seems unusual.”

“Oh, no,” Christy said, “my brothers do it too.”

Leah’s eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed. “How d’you know? I mean, I thought you said—?”

“I haven’t seen them,” Christy laughed. “I talk to their wives.”

“About that?”

“Well, not specifically, but it comes up sometimes. Marianne gets annoyed that Harry still does it. Well, when he does it at home—not while he’s on cruise, I mean. Lynne doesn’t mind about James, whenever he does it.”

Leah’s dark eyes widened as the details kept coming.

“I don’t know what Sabrina thinks about Danny,” Christy continued with barely a pause for breath. “They aren’t officially married yet, but they live together, and I know they have sex a lot. She travels for work—she’s a model—so they ‘make up for lost time’ when they’re together. I’m sure he masturbates when they aren’t, but she’s never said anything about it.

“I don’t know about Rich,” she added thoughtfully. “I assume he still does, especially since he doesn’t have a steady girlfriend, but you never know with him. He’s just… weird sometimes. And he’s never really had a girlfriend we could talk to. He never keeps them long. Women don’t really ‘get’ him, I think. He’s so intense. And his sense of humor’s really weird. My mother says it’s ‘macabre,’ whatever that means.

“I looked it up one time,” Christy went on, “and I suppose she’s right. He jokes about killing people like it’s nothing. He threatens to kill Paul, like, every time he sees him, and sometimes even when he doesn’t! Ha ha! But he really likes him. He’s too stubborn to admit it, but I can tell.”

All of a sudden she faltered and fell silent. “Oh, sorry. I was chattering, wasn’t I?”

I slow-nodded.

“Sorry,” she repeated. “Where were we? Oh, right. So… um… yeah. Most guys masturbate.”

Leah was still trying to process everything she’d just heard, so I gave her a moment before I forged ahead.

“We do it even when we’re in a happy relationship,” I said. “So it doesn’t mean Mark’s unhappy if he does it.”

Leah finally snapped out of it. “Yeah,” she agreed, “my mom told me the same thing.” She sighed, acceptance if not enthusiasm. Then she looked at her glass. It was empty, which explained why she’d gone off on a tangent about guys and our masturbation habits. I refilled it and emptied the remaining drops into Christy’s.

“Uh-oh. Do we—?”

“Way ahead of you.” I retrieved a new bottle from the closet. It was the last one, so I made a mental note to have the man at the liquor store order more. It was an expensive habit, but it beat the alternatives.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Christy said.

“Mmm.” I twisted the top and cracked the paper tape. Then I poured a generous amount into her glass. I met her eyes and added a silent order, Don’t drink too fast.

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

Leah heard but didn’t say anything. Instead, she watched as Christy thought through the conversation for the past few minutes.

“Sorry,” she said eventually. “Where were we?”

Leah had to think too.

“Brooke and Hunter,” I prompted.

“Right!” Leah said. “So… um… she never did anything with him?”

“No,” Christy said. “She wanted to, though.”

“What about you?”

“Hunter’s all right. He’s cute, I suppose, but not my type.”

Leah laughed. “No, I meant you and Laurence. Did you spy on him?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did he jerk off?”

“Probably, but never where I could see.”

“That’s too bad. So, you never saw his dick?”

“I did. Um… once. I asked him to pose for me. I was learning figure drawing,” she explained. “He only wore a towel, a small one like we used for swimming. It covered him fine, so I guess he didn’t even think about it. Then he fell asleep and moved his knee. His towel parted, and I could see his penis. He started dreaming and got really hard.”

Leah hesitated. “Did you do anything?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He was my brother. And… I was too scared.”

“That’s—” Leah cleared her throat. “That’s probably a good thing.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you regret it? Not doing anything?”

“Not really. Only… sometimes I do.”

Leah sipped her drink as a way to cover her own mixed emotions. She was clearly excited, but she also felt Christy’s sense of loss. She didn’t want to seem insensitive, even though Christy had had several years to compartmentalize and adjust.

I knew better. She still missed Laurence, but it wasn’t a raw wound anymore. Besides, she’d finally drunk enough to overwhelm her metabolism, and her senses were a bit dulled. Leah hadn’t drunk nearly as much, but she was feeling its effects as well.

“I suppose that’s why I want Paul and Erin to go all the way,” Christy said after a moment. “I can pretend it’s Laurence and me. I can live…” She frowned and stared into space, and I had to admire the way her mind worked. She was listening to a conversation we’d had sometime in the past. “Oh, right! Vicariously! I can live vicariously through them.”

Leah didn’t notice the pause. She was too caught up in the story.

“Me, too,” she said. “I mean, I’ve always thought of Paul like a brother, way more than a boyfriend. It’s been that way since we were kids. And… I wanted him to be my first.”

“Me too,” Christy said. “He wasn’t my first-first. Not technically—”

“Me neither,” Leah agreed.

“—but the first one I really enjoyed.”

“Exactly!” Leah’s eyelids drooped, and she inhaled sharply in an attempt to clear her head. She raised her glass and peered at it owlishly. “What’s in this?”

“Irish whiskey,” I said. “The good stuff, 18-year-old.”

“Wow, as old as me.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s good. Not as smoky as the stuff my dad drinks.” She took another sip. “Loosens your tongue the same, though.”

“Morals, too,” Christy muttered.

“No,” I said gently. “It just gives you the courage to do what you’ve always wanted.”

“Maybe you should drink more,” Leah suggested. “Then you’d go all the way with Erin.”

I chuckled and didn’t answer.

“Okay, maybe not tonight. But as long as we’re talking about going all the way… big brother.”

I felt dizzy all of a sudden, a combination of alcohol and lack of blood to a certain vital organ.

I’m a vital organ, the little head said smugly.

Treacherous, too.

You want me to take over?

Might as well, I told him. You’re going to anyway.

“Wow!” Leah laughed when my erection sprang up. “You sure know how to make a girl happy.”

“Two of us,” Christy agreed.

“D’you mind if I borrow him?” she asked her. “I need his big dick. I know, I know,” she admitted, a bit drunkenly, “I said I don’t care about size, but that was a li’l white lie. Please don’t tell Mark,” she added quickly. “I love sucking him, but I like Paul better inside me. It’s ’cause he’s thicker. You un’erstand, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Christy said. “I told you, I think he’s perfect.”

“Almost perfect,” Leah corrected. “His timing sucks. Then again, so does mine.”

“Well, our timing’s good tonight,” I said. “Come here.”

* * *

Leah lay on her stomach and didn’t move for a long time. We’d come at the same time, but only in the way that fireworks and a bonfire go off together. My orgasm had been short and intense, a shower of sparks that had lit up the night but faded just as quickly. Hers was a fire that had started small and grown slowly, stoked with every thrust. It had been an inferno for a while, and the embers of it were still burning—her dark skin glowed with the heat of it.

Her climax eventually subsided, and she relaxed into a languorous semi-doze. A sheen of sweat covered her, and her dark hair lay damp where it touched her skin. Almost on cue, the air conditioner came on. Cool air washed over us like an invisible Niagara. I shivered at the sudden chill and had one of those random post-orgasmic thoughts that seem to happen to me more than others.

Convection cooling, check. Evaporative cooling, check.

Aliens would’ve had a field day if they’d abducted me and scanned my brain.

The Earthling is preoccupied with sex, talks to an imaginary friend, and has a strange obsession with environmental control.

Recommendations?

Return the subject to its natural habitat and order an immediate ban on all further species contact.

Agreed. Science Officer, log the quarantine. Astrogator, plot a course for Alpha Centauri. Pilot, break orbit and get us out of here.

Aye, aye, captain.

Maybe we’ll find intelligent life in the next system.

Christy caught the fringe of the conversation and frowned as she tried to decipher it. Fortunately, Leah distracted her before she could hurt herself. She rolled over and threw her arms over her head. Her breasts flattened to almost nothing, although they were still distinctly feminine, more than enough to make me forget the departing aliens.

Ooh, boobies.

Christy covered her mouth and did her best not to laugh. She even managed to compose herself before Leah opened her eyes.

“God, that was exactly what I needed.” She sat up, and her breasts returned to their normal shape. They didn’t sag a bit.

See? Boobies. Big, small, round, flat—

Christy’s eyes flashed. Will you behave!

Leah didn’t notice. “I should probably get cleaned up,” she said. “I smell like a brothel.”

“How would you know?” I wondered aloud. “I mean, have you ever been in a brothel?”

“Funny you should ask. I actually have. It was quite pleasant. You’ll have to ask Erin, though. She tells it better.”

“She tells everything better,” I said with only a trace of bitterness. “She’s a real raconteur, all right.”

“Says the guy who just used the word ‘raconteur’ in a sentence,” Leah chuckled. She started to roll to her knees but immediately stopped.

“What’s the matter?”

“I… um… don’t wanna leak on the bed. God, how much did you shoot? I swear, I can feel it sloshing around. I know that’s kind of disgusting, but…”

“They never mention this in the letters, do they?” I said to Christy, who shook her head.

“What? In Penthouse?” Leah wondered. “They never mention having to pee, either.”

“I always have to pee afterward,” Christy said. “Sabrina says it’s good for you. It helps prevent infections.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Leah agreed. “Be right back.” She pressed her legs together, scooted to the edge of the bed, and headed to the bathroom.

I glanced at my watch.

“What time is it?” Christy asked.

“Almost one. You need a snack?”

“You know me so well.”

“Anything special?”

“Whatever we have. You know what I like.” She glanced toward the door. “You should probably bring enough for all of us. I don’t think she’s used to drinking so much on an empty stomach.”

I nodded and rolled to my feet.

“And maybe something sweet.”

“Peach cobbler?”

She shook her head. “Don’t tell Wren, but I’m sort of sick of peaches. Do we have any fruit compote left? The one with the blackberries? That was yummy.”

“Got it. Fruit compote, don’t tell Wren. Anything else?”

“Something to drink? Do we have any sherry? The one with the funny name?”

“Probably. Anything else?”

“Hmm, something non-alcoholic. Water? Oh, I know! Orange juice. We have a can in the freezer. Would you mind making some?”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Only one thing.”

“I’m going to need to make a list,” I teased gently.

“Not for this.”

“Oh?”

“Love me forever?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

I bowed low and flourished an imaginary hat, and her eyes crinkled with a smile, warm and affectionate.

“Off you go,” she said.

* * *

I returned twenty minutes later with a fully loaded tray. I’d basically cleaned out the refrigerator and half the pantry. I’d brought a little bit of everything.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Leah said to Christy.

The girls scooted apart, and I carefully set the tray on the bed between them.

“We don’t kid around where her metabolism is concerned,” I said.

“He doesn’t,” Christy agreed. “He takes very good care of me.”

“I didn’t think I was hungry till I saw all the food,” Leah laughed.

Christy glanced at the small bottle of Pedro Ximénez. Then she surveyed the crowded tray and shot me a grin. “You forgot something.”

“The corkscrew? No, I already opened it.”

Her eyes darted to the bottle. She’d missed that little detail. “Darn!”

“Carter would be proud. You have to let the wine breathe,” I quoted. “Although… he’d probably tell me to decant it.”

“Only, we don’t have any decanters.”

“Right.”

She grinned at his familiar one-word answer.

“What’re you all talking about?” Leah said. “Not Jimmy Carter.”

“No, a friend of ours,” I said. “Carter’s his first name.”

“Okay, so… no crisis of confidence?”

“Huh? You lost me.”

“Oh, oh, I know this one!” Christy said. Then she did a spot-on impression of Jimmy Carter’s soft Georgia accent. “It is a crisis of confidence. It is a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will.”

Leah’s jaw dropped. “How do you do that?”

“I just do.”

“You have to teach me.”

“I don’t know if she can,” I said. “It’s like her art. Yeah, she could teach you the techniques, but it’d still take a lifetime of practice to do what she does.” Even then, you’d need special wiring in your brain.

A whimsical part of me wondered what the aliens would’ve made of Christy.

The female Earthling is also preoccupied with sex. She hears in the visual spectrum and has a strange obsession with the male’s imaginary friend. We have tentatively identified it as his reproductive organ.

Recommendations? Never mind. Pilot! I thought I told you to get us out of here!

Christy pursed her lips and struggled not to laugh. Stop!

Leah noticed this time. “Um… did I miss something?”

“I can’t tell you, ma’am,” I said in an officious voice. “It has to do with aliens. And sex.”

“Of course!” she laughed. “Weekly World News. I mean, what else do aliens care about?”

“Elvis Presley? Oh, and Jerry Falwell. He’s one of them.” I cocked my head and frowned in thought. “Actually, that explains a lot.”

“Explains what? Never mind, you’re worse than my dad!”

“Guilty as charged,” I said. “Anyway, let’s eat.”

“And drink,” Christy said. “Paul, dear, will you…?”

“None for me,” Leah said immediately. “I’m still a little drunk from the whiskey.” She reached for the pitcher of orange juice instead. “Does he do this for you every night?”

“Not every night,” Christy said. “Well, not this much. Normally just veggies or a sandwich. Sometimes an apple and peanut butter.” She grinned and sucked the tip of her finger, in case I’d missed the reference. I hadn’t. Neither had my reproductive organ. He scanned the environment and reluctantly decided we were interested in food more than sex.

I’d brought paper plates, but we decided to eat from the tray instead. We spent a couple of minutes stuffing our faces.

“So, tell me about Carter,” Leah said once we slowed down. “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”

I gave her the R-rated version of the story, although she was smart enough to fill in the X-rated details on her own.

“Seriously?” she said. “You just recruited them as swingers? It must run in the family.”

“Well, they came here looking for it,” I said.

“How’d they know where to come?”

“A friend told him,” I said. “She has to be another swinger, but he never said who. She’s a client, though, I know that much.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I trust him.”

Leah nodded. “You’ve always been a good judge of character. Well, except for her.”

Christy stiffened in alarm, although I settled her with a quick gesture.

“Oh, sorry!” Leah said. “I didn’t mean you.”

“She meant Kendall,” I said flatly. “Leah, please… don’t start.”

“I didn’t!”

“Kendall’s a good person.”

“That’s your opinion,” she muttered.

“We were both young, and we both made mistakes. If anything, I made more than she did. Period. End of discussion.”

Leah sighed and nodded an apology.

“And I hope she’s happy,” I added. “Wherever she is. She deserves it.”

“You’re a better person than I.”

“No, I’m not. You just have a sore spot for Kendall.”

“Like me and Gracie,” Christy said.

Leah perked up at the mention of someone she didn’t know, and I realized that Christy had done it on purpose, as a distraction.

“Who?” Leah asked.

“A friend,” I said. “Another architecture student. We—”

“Had sex,” Christy said with as much reproach as two little words could manage.

Leah nodded. “I see.”

“She tried to take him from me,” Christy continued. “But he’s mine, with a capital M.”

“Okay,” Leah said. “Good to know. Don’t mess with Christy.”

“Oh, I don’t mean you,” she said quickly. “Sorry. I can’t explain it, but I’m not worried about you. I trust you.”

“Well, thank you.”

They shared a hesitant grin that slowly turned genuine.

“Let’s move on…,” I said into the silence.

“Yeah, sorry,” Leah said. “I shouldn’t’ve brought her up. Anyway, there’s something you aren’t telling me about Carter and Kim.”

Alarm bells went off in my head, but I controlled my expression and asked, “What do you mean?”

“We can probably tell her,” Christy said.

My control faltered.

“Tell me what?” Leah said predictably.

“Are you sure?” I asked Christy, and she nodded.

Leah repeated her question.

“It’s probably easier to show you.” I slid the tray of food out of the way. “Look under the bed. My side.”

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “You’re just trying to… you know.”

“What?”

“You want me to bend over, so you can…” She made a comical poking gesture.

“I know, right!” Christy laughed. “That’s what he did to me. But he’s serious this time, I promise.”

I made a hands-off motion, and Leah eventually bent over the side of the bed. Her ass and pussy looked so good that I felt a pang of regret that I was a man of my word.

“All I see is a suitcase,” she said.

I’d cleaned out the nightstand, so all of our toys were there.

“That’s it,” I said. “Pull it up.”

The contents thumped to the bottom when she did.

“What’s in here?” she asked a little suspiciously.

“Open it and see.”

She popped the latches and lifted the lid. Her eyebrows rose and then disappeared completely under her bangs.

“That…,” she said slowly, “isn’t what I was expecting.”

I grinned to myself. “What were you expecting?”

“Honestly? Lingerie. Costumes. Frederick’s of Hollywood stuff.”

Christy shivered with mild disgust. Her lingerie collection was worth a small fortune, and none of it had come from Frederick’s.

“Yeah, sorry,” Leah said to her. “I should’ve known. You have much better taste.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyway, the suitcase,” Leah continued. “When I heard the thumps, I thought it might be a big black dildo or something. Or a couple of vibrators.”

Christy immediately wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“Maybe some gag gifts from Spencer’s,” Leah mused without looking up. “You know, a toy whip and some fuzzy handcuffs.” She gestured at the contents of the suitcase. “That, however, is the real deal.”

“Mmm,” I agreed.

She shook her head in amazement. “I had no idea. I mean, you never even hinted that you were into this sort of thing.”

“Who, me? Ha! No, that’s all Christy.”

“You’re fucking kidding me!”

My bangs were a lot shorter than Leah’s, but my eyebrows still tried to disappear. She didn’t speak like that unless she was angry or very, very surprised. Christy thought the whole thing was funny. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes still danced with mirth.

“I’m serious,” Leah said into the silence. “Are these really all yours?”

Christy nodded without removing her hand.

“What’s this for? And these?” Leah held up the riding crop and lifted out the collar with the nipple clamps. “I mean, I know what they’re for, but… seriously?”

Christy nodded.

“What are you, some kind of masochist?”

“That’s exactly what she is,” I said calmly.

To her credit, Leah didn’t even flinch. “And… what?” she said instead. “These people… Carter and Kim… they introduced you to this stuff?”

“Oh, no. We’ve been into it for a while. Since Christmas, at least.”

Christy nodded at my recollection.

“Longer for her,” I added, “but only in her head.”

“I didn’t know a guy who… um… you know.”

Leah paused and silently revised her opinion of me. Then she gave me a speculative look, like she might want to give it a try.

I grinned and filled in the rest of the story, “We met Carter and Kim recently, just last month.”

“And… this was all Christy’s idea? This stuff? You really like pain?” she asked her.

I answered instead, but obliquely. “You remember you asked if she could get off just by sucking?”

Leah nodded.

“She can’t. But she can get off from being spanked.”

“For real? Just from being spanked? Without playing with herself?”

“I’ve seen her do it,” I said.

“Holy crap. I… had no idea. I mean, seriously.” She looked at Christy. “We all thought you were this goody-two-shoes Catholic girl who was just having fun, slumming with us on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak. No offense, but…”

Christy wasn’t the least bit annoyed. She was actually having fun.

“I mean, yeah,” Leah continued, “we knew you and Paul were serious, but we thought the sex stuff wouldn’t last. We’ve all known girls who fooled around with other girls but then went back to their boyfriends.”

Christy nodded.

“And Paul and I’ve known people who tried swinging but weren’t really cut out for it.”

It was my turn to nod.

“We thought you were the same,” she said to Christy. “Yeah, you’re into it now, but how long before that famous Catholic guilt kicks in? How long before you pull away and start doing it less? That’s basically what Gina’s done,” she added to me. “She hardly ever does anything at our parties anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, but Leah just shrugged.

“Californians. They’re all talk and no action. Sorry, Christy, but we thought you were like that.”

“You know,” I said slowly, “I’m actually a Californian. I was born there.”

“Yeah, but you were there for, like, a week?”

“Something like that,” I conceded.

“And you were raised here, in the south.”

“While I was born in Virginia,” Christy said.

Leah was only mildly surprised, but her eyebrows hid under her bangs again. It was easier for her.

“For real?” she said. “Where?”

“Norfolk. Well, Virginia Beach.”

“My dad’s from Alexandria.”

“Oh, cool.”

Leah shook her head in mild annoyance. “We’re getting off-topic.” She gestured at the suitcase full of toys. “This changes things.”

“How?”

“It means you’re a kinky little thing. For real.”

“Oh my gosh,” Christy laughed, “you’re exactly alike!”

“What? How?”

“That’s what I call her,” I said dryly, “a kinky little thing.”

“Seriously? Why’m I not surprised?”

“We aren’t actually brother and sister,” I said, “but we might as well be. I mean, we more or less grew up together.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But still… this changes things.”

Christy and I exchanged a look, and I asked for both of us, “How?”

“For one, I can tell Erin to chill out. She’s been trying to get you into bed because we didn’t think Christy’s… um… infatuation… with our lifestyle would last.”

“It isn’t an infatuation,” I said. “She’s in it for the long run.”

“Oh my gosh, yes!”

“Well, duh,” Leah said. “If you’re into this stuff— Hold on.” She looked at me. “You aren’t a sadist, are you?”

“God, no! I only do it ’cause she likes it.”

“Oh, okay,” Leah said in obvious relief. “You had me worried for a sec. I mean, you get a little forceful sometimes, but you’ve never hurt me. I don’t mind being dominated, but I’m not into pain.” She glanced at Christy. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Different strokes,” I said.

“Exactly. Different strokes.” Leah picked up where she’d left off. “If you’re into this stuff, BDSM, and you’re serious about… um… family fun—”

Christy nodded emphatically.

“—then swinging is pretty normal. There’s one thing I’m curious about, though. If you don’t mind me asking. Although… at this point, you’d’ve ‘run screaming’ if you minded.”

“True. What’s the question?”

“What’s up with you and Trip? And Mark, for that matter. Why don’t you want to have sex with them? I mean, I get it, it’s your body, but… what’s the big deal?”

“I… um… only want to have sex with Paul.”

Leah’s brow furrowed. “But… you and I…? Tonight. And this afternoon, with Brooke. Yesterday, with Erin and Wren. You’ve had sex with just about everyone. Why not the guys too?”

Christy glanced at me.

“This is where the Catholic guilt comes in,” I said. “It isn’t really guilt, but… being Catholic is a big part of it.”

“So… you’re serious?” Leah asked. “About being Catholic?”

“Very,” Christy said. “Like, my immortal soul.”

I nodded solemnly.

Leah considered it but then frowned at an inconsistency. “Okay, then… why don’t you go to church?”

“I can’t.” Christy shot me an annoyed look. “It’s too far to walk, and no one will let me drive. Besides,” she added, a bit guiltily, “I like sleeping in on Sundays and waking up with him. He… um… takes care of me.”

“Yeah,” Leah said with a grin, “I’m familiar with his morning routine. Is he still good for two in a row?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. Sometimes more.”

“Sounds about right,” Leah smirked.

“You never complained,” I said.

“No. I quite enjoyed it. But let’s get back to the original topic. So, Christy… why won’t you have sex with other guys? Hold on, you said you don’t want to have sex with anyone besides Paul. I’d normally have notes if this were a real interview,” she apologized, “but I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.”

I spoke up, “This is where it gets complicated.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Leah shot back. “I didn’t mean to sound so catty, but… it’s sex. It’s always complicated.”

“You can say that again,” Christy muttered.

“Then I’ll try to explain,” I said patiently. “She doesn’t think sex with other women is sex—”

“In spite of the fact that, you know, it is?” Leah seemed amused more than annoyed.

“It isn’t to her,” I said. “Neither are blowjobs.”

“You mean, oral sex?” she asked archly.

“I can’t explain it,” Christy said. “I’ve tried, like, a million times, but it never makes sense. Only, it does to me.”

Leah gazed at her for a long time, but she didn’t back down.

“Okay, sex with other women isn’t sex,” Leah said flippantly. “Neither are blowjobs.” She heard her tone and immediately apologized. “Sorry, I’m supposed to be objective. Besides, it’s your decision, your body. It’s worse when a woman does it. I mean, we’re used to it from men. They’ve always tried to control us…

“I should know,” she added. “That’s what Todd did to me. He knew what I wanted,” she spat, savage and bitter, “better than I did. Fucking asshole.” She drew a deep breath and tried to shake it off. Then she glared at me. “Why’d you have to bring him up?”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, all right. Anyway, Christy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t try to tell you what’s right for you. And I shouldn’t mock you for your choices.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Leah said abruptly. “And… I want that drink after all.”

“You got it,” I said. “Sherry or whiskey?”

“The good stuff, the 18-year-old. And I’d better eat something else.”

Christy was closest to the tray and had been nibbling the whole time, although she was genuinely surprised to realize it. Leah’s mood changed abruptly.

“Seriously?” she laughed. “You didn’t notice?”

“No,” Christy grumped. “Only, I can’t help it!”

“It’s all right,” Leah said in a gentler tone. “I’m just jealous.”

“You wouldn’t be if you had my metabolism. For real, I mean.”

“You’re right. I’ve seen how much you eat, and you’re still… what? A size two?”

“When I can buy regular clothes.” Christy fumed at the world in general. “Most of the time I have to shop in the Girls section or Young Misses. It’s embarrassing.”

“No wonder. You’re… what? Eighty-five pounds? Maybe ninety?”

“For the record, I’m ninety-four!”

“Hold on,” I said. “I thought you were ninety-seven.”

“Um… I am?” she lied.

My shoulders fell. “Oh, Little Bit…”

“I’m sorry! Only, I’ve been so excited. I forget to eat. You know how I am! It’s not my fault! Stupid metabolism.” She glared and crunched a stick of celery like it had personally offended her. In a way, it had—it didn’t have enough calories.

“Can I do anything to help?” Leah asked.

“Are you going to eat that muffin?”

“Go ahead,” Leah laughed, “it’s all yours.”

“I’ll slice an apple for you,” I told her.

“I can do it.” She held out her hand for the knife.

“Let Paul,” Christy said around a mouthful. “He’th a profethional.” She finished chewing and swallowed. “Sorry, my mother wouldn’t be very proud if she saw that.”

“Never mind the nudity,” I added.

“Or the fact that we’re all shaved,” Leah said.

“And let’s not even mention the group sex!”

We all laughed. Then Leah glared playfully.

“You promised me a drink. And… get busy with that apple. I’m hungry all of a sudden.”

Christy grinned at me around the last of the muffin. “I like her.”

“I do too,” I said. “In fact, I love her.”

Leah’s cheeks glowed. Then she composed herself and said to Christy, “I’m glad you’re one of us. For real, not some… dilettante.”

“Thank you.”

They shared a smile. Then Leah looked at me. She hesitated before she caressed my pinky with hers. We curled our fingers together and then slid them apart. It was the briefest of touches but it filled me with warmth.

“I’m very happy you found Christy.” She tried to smile but succumbed to emotion. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry…” She looked to Christy for support, and they embraced. “Thank you so much,” Leah whispered hoarsely.

The girls clung to each other and rocked gently. Then they sat back, and Leah drew a shuddering breath. She met my eyes. Hers were full of tears, of regret for what might’ve been, happiness for what was, and hope for what might be. Then she smiled for real, and I knew we were going to be all right.

* * *

Morning sun slanted through the window, and I realized that Christy and I were alone in bed. I had a vague memory of Leah rising before dawn and kissing me goodbye. She’d known my plans for the day, at least in a general sense, and she’d wanted Christy and me to have the morning to ourselves. I silently thanked her. She was a good lover and a better friend, and I couldn’t imagine life without her.

My thoughts returned to the present, and I stroked Christy’s hip. Her skin was warm and soft, and she stirred at my touch. I scooted closer, and my erection prodded her thigh. She sighed in her sleep and reached back. Her fingers unerringly found my cock, and I chuckled at her automatic reaction.

She woke up slowly as I kissed and caressed her. Then she stretched with one of her little squeaks.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” I kissed her ear and inhaled the familiar scent of her, jasmine and honey.

“Morning.”

“Are you ready for your wakeup cock?”

“Mmm, yes, please.”

She lifted one leg and rubbed my glans along her slit to spread her lubrication. Then she set my shaft at her opening. I slid into her. She moaned softly and turned her head. I kissed her and then squeezed her breast. She pushed back against me. I began thrusting, and we made love slowly.

“Come in my mouth,” she said when I was close. “Need to taste you.”

I pulled out and rolled to my back. She turned over, pushed the sheet down, and captured my cock. Then she cupped my balls and began sucking. I gave her a moment to enjoy it before I guided her into a sixty-nine.

She thought I wanted her to deep throat me, and I wasn’t in any condition to argue. Instead, I groaned and emptied my balls down her throat. She closed her lips around the base of my shaft and held on to my hips, presumably in case I tried to buck her off.

I eventually stopped shooting, and my whole body tingled with pleasure. Christy pulled back enough to catch her breath, but then she swallowed me again. I closed my eyes and saw stars.

When I finally came to my senses, I realized that she was still sucking my dick, while I was doing nothing in return. I plunged two fingers into her slick pussy, and she came almost immediately, one of her little orgasms.

“Turn around,” I said when she recovered.

She ignored me and started sucking again. I caressed her ass instead of swatting it, but the threat was clear. She immediately released my dick.

“Yes, sir. Where do you want me?”

“On your back.”

She swung her leg over me, turned around, and lay back. She looked beautiful, lithe and tan, still flushed from her orgasm. She raised her knees and spread her thighs. Her smooth pussy opened before me, pink and moist.

“Better?”

I chuckled. “Much.”

I climbed between her legs, and she crossed her ankles behind my back. I bent and gave her a kiss, which she returned with interest. Then she angled her hips, and my dick slid into her without conscious thought on my part. She sighed and pulled me down for another kiss, and we made out as I rocked my hips and fucked her slowly.

I eventually picked up the pace and started thrusting for real. My hips slammed into hers, and she urged me on with her body. She was building up to a bigger orgasm, a real one, so I pulled out. She moaned in frustration but didn’t resist when I raised her leg and flipped her over.

“Lift your hips.” I shoved my pillow under her. “Now, don’t move.”

She nodded and caught her breath, while I reached under the bed and pulled out the suitcase. I flipped the latches, opened the lid, and found what I wanted.

“Give me your wrists.” She crossed them behind her, and I snapped the handcuffs into place. “Good girl. Now, lift your head.” I slid the blindfold over her eyes.

I slapped her ass for good measure, and she gasped in pain-pleasure. Then I straddled her thighs and spread them gently. Her pussy was already hot and wet, and she moaned as I slid into her. I steadied myself above her and used my weight to drive her into the pillow. My dick sank another inch. It bent slightly as the head encountered resistance.

Christy squeaked.

“You know what I’m about to do,” I whispered in her ear.

She turned her head toward me, and my breath blew a tendril of golden hair across the black silk of the blindfold.

She swallowed to moisten her mouth. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t come,” I told her, “until I give you permission.”

She swallowed again, nervously. “Don’t…? I…? Um…”

“You heard me. Don’t come until I tell you.” I eased my hips back and then slowly probed until my dick hit the back of her pussy again.

“Unh!” she panted.

“What’re you supposed to say?” I prompted.

“I don’t— I don’t know… if I can.”

“You can,” I said, calmly menacing, “and you will.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

I pushed myself up and arched my whole body. My hips bore down on her, and my cock filled her completely. She squeaked, and the temperature in her pussy shot through the roof.

I began thrusting, slow and deep. She was already worked up and grew hotter by the minute. She wouldn’t last long.

“Don’t come until I tell you,” I reminded her.

“Yes— Unh!” she panted. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Her pussy felt like a sauna, and her muscles were already trying to grip my shaft and hold it in place. I put all my weight on her, and my dick sank into her. It bent slightly, and she groaned, pleasure mixed with the pain from trying to hold back the tide of orgasm.

“Not… until… I tell you,” I warned.

“I don’t—”

I pulled back and thrust hard.

She cried out.

I did it again. She writhed and gasped and moaned as she tried not to come.

“Please, sir,” she begged.

“Not yet,” I said through gritted teeth.

Her pussy contracted, and moisture coated my shaft.

“I don’t—” she pleaded. “I can’t—”

“Don’t.” Thrust. “Come” Thrust. “Yet.” Thrust.

Her back and shoulders had turned pink, visible even through her tan. I sank my fingers into her French braid and felt the heat of her skin on my own. I pulled her head back. The handcuffs clinked as she bent her arms into a figure-four, one hand under her other forearm.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, sir— Ah! Please…”

I waited a second. Then two. I pulled her hair a little harder. The tendons in her neck stood out as she strained. The head of my dick pressed directly into the back of her pussy. I rocked my hips, and the pressure built, until her climax felt like a physical thing, a weight pressing down on us.

She trembled with pent-up desire. Her pussy convulsed, and a fresh wave of moisture coated my shaft. Her orgasm had built to the point where she couldn’t hold back any longer. It threatened to overwhelm her, and she moaned in desperation.

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please.”

“Come now. Come for me.” I arched my back and buried my cock as deep as it would go.

She cried out in surprise and relief and ecstasy. Then she stopped moving. She even stopped breathing.

Her insides felt like a furnace. Her muscles gripped me. Moisture gushed around my shaft, and a wave of heat coated my balls.

Pleasure filled her to bursting. It peaked and crashed, receded and surged again. I felt it wherever our skin touched, but especially my dick. Her pussy squeezed and seemed to tug at me, until the urge to come overloaded my senses.

I cried out, and semen exploded deep inside her. The torrent pulled me with it, and I emptied myself into her body. An hour passed. Then a year. A decade. All in a heartbeat, a single breath, the blink of an eye.

I eventually returned to my own body, my own senses. My breath came in great gusts through my nose. I felt Christy beneath me. Her arms were trapped between us, and the handcuffs poked into my ribs. I was a dead weight atop her. I couldn’t move, yet I had to. I summoned all my strength.

My eyelids fluttered open.

I laughed. At least, I laughed in my head. I couldn’t move my tongue, let alone my jaw. Christy twitched with an aftershock, but at least she was alive. I could feel her breathing. I eventually managed to swallow and moisten my mouth.

“Are you okay?” I croaked.

She didn’t respond. Still, I felt her awareness. She shuddered with another aftershock that I felt as well. We were still joined, still one.

“Gimme a sec,” I managed, “and I’ll get off you.”

“Take your time,” she said after a moment. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I laughed out loud.

“I thought you’d like that,” she said weakly.

“Are you okay?” I asked again.

“Mmm. Only, I don’t think I can move. It’s—” She gasped and then breathed hard through her nose. “It’s still going.”

“I can tell. I can feel it.”

“Did you…?”

“God, yes. Didn’t you feel it? I must’ve shot a gallon.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I missed it.”

“That’s okay. There’ll be others.” I’d recovered enough energy to get my hands under me. I pushed myself up.

Christy gasped. “Don’t move. Please. I… don’t think I can take it.”

“I’m not too heavy?”

She shook her head.

I lowered myself to my elbows and kept as much of my weight off her as I could. Still, our bodies touched at almost every point, and my penis was still inside her.

“Mmm, tha’s nice,” she said. Her breathing slowed, and I thought she might’ve gone to sleep. “That was bigger than a big kahuna,” she said at last. “The Kāne of all kahunas.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like a good thing.”

“It is. And now… I’m just gonna lie here. Don’t mind me.”

“You aren’t ready for me to get off you?”

“Oh, no, never. Only… um… my arms’ve gone to sleep. So… um… maybe…?”

I chuckled and pushed myself up. My dick slid out of her with a wet squelch. It was coated with juices—hers, mine, ours. My thighs were damp with them, and so were hers. She shivered from a chill instead of an aftershock. I rolled sideways and nearly fell off the bed. I caught myself but felt drained and weak.

“Enervated,” I said with a chuckle. “Always loved that word. Never get to use it, though.”

Christy was so enervated that she didn’t even ask what I was talking about.

“It means the opposite of what it sounds like.”

“Yes, dear.”

I remembered what I’d been doing in the first place. “Sorry,” I said. “Gimme a sec and I’ll unlock you.”

“Just cover me up. Please.”

I ignored her and reached over the side of the bed, where I rummaged in the suitcase until I found the red ribbon with the handcuff keys. I unlocked them, and she flexed her fingers to get the blood flowing in her arms. Then she reached up and removed the blindfold. She held it over her shoulder for me. I tossed it into the suitcase, followed by the handcuffs and keys.

Christy scooted to her side of the bed without looking back, and I had to suppress a laugh at the sight of my pillow. The case had a dark circle of spreading moisture, and I suspected that the pillow itself was soaked as well, a total loss. I flung it off the bed without a second thought. Christy groped for the sheet but couldn’t find it. I slid behind her and pulled it over us.

“The spread too?” She shivered. “So cold.”

The damn thing had slid off the end of the bed, so I retrieved it and covered us both. I wrapped my arms around her.

“Better?”

“Mmm.” She yawned and then sighed contentedly. “Night night.”

* * *

We joined the others a little before noon. Brooke and Mark were swimming, but the rest were lounging beside the pool. They greeted us with applause and catcalls.

“We thought y’all were gonna spend the whole day in bed,” Trip joked.

“We thought about it,” I said seriously.

Wren’s eyes immediately went to Christy’s left hand. Still ringless. She huffed in exasperation and looked even more annoyed when I replied with a wink.

“Are you still planning to go to the quarry?” she asked.

“I need to. The measurements aren’t gonna take themselves.” I shrugged with feigned indecision and glanced at Christy. “Are you okay to help me?”

She’d recovered from her super-orgasm, but she hadn’t eaten anything for almost twelve hours. I was a little worried she might say no. I could deal with it, but half of my plan depended on being at the quarry. I wanted someplace memorable, not a generic bedroom.

“As long as Wren doesn’t need me here,” Christy said. She looked at her. “We’re still having the party tonight, aren’t we? Do you need help?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mark said from the pool. “We’ll help Wren, won’t we, guys?”

Brooke nodded immediately, and the others added a chorus of agreement.

“Besides,” Wren added, “Trip said he needs those measurements, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“What? Oh, yeah! I can’t do the estimates till I get ’em.”

“Go on,” Wren said. “We’ll take care of everything here. As a matter of fact, I packed you a picnic lunch, since you missed breakfast.”

Christy perked up at the mention of food.

“Sounds perfect,” I said. “I have my survey equipment already loaded.”

Trip furrowed his brow and tried to decide if that was a euphemism or not. I hadn’t told him the plan—I didn’t need any crappy surprises—and I didn’t enlighten him about the equipment. Instead, I gestured for Christy to precede me.

“After you, my lovely little apprentice.”

“Apprentice…,” she mused. “That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Oh, brother,” Wren said.

Brooke scowled. “Chris, so help me God…”

“What?” Christy said disingenuously. “What’d I say?”

“Be nice,” I told her quietly.

She looked mildly put out but agreed with a nod.

“Come on,” Wren said, “I’ll get your basket.”

* * *

“That wasn’t very nice,” I said as we pulled away from the clubhouse.

“I know,” Christy said. “Only, I couldn’t help it. Everyone thinks I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh?” I looked at her sideways. “What’s going on?”

“Today. This morning. This ‘trip’ to the quarry, just the two of us.”

“What about it?” I lied smoothly.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, we need to survey the quarry.”

“No, the other thing.”

“The picnic? That was Wren’s idea. I’m glad she did it, though.”

“No,” Christy insisted, “the other-other thing.”

I pretended to think. “The party tonight?”

“Ugh!” She balled her fists and stomped a foot. The floorboard reacted with silent indifference. She glared before she remembered the real source of her frustration. “Paul Dean Hughes…”

“Yes?”

“Ugh! Just… ugh! Sometimes I don’t like you very much.”

“Is now one of those times?”

She crossed her arms under her breasts, which made her cleavage deeper. She caught me looking and balled her fists instead. Then she smoothed invisible fabric over her legs.

“Relax, Little Bit,” I said gently. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“I know, but… it’s driving me crazy! I don’t think you understand,” she wheedled, “how much I want this.”

“And you’ll get it. When I’m ready.”

“Stupid patience,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Relax,” I said again. “Let’s just enjoy our picnic. We’ll eat first, ’cause I know you’re starving. Then we’ll do the survey and measurements. It shouldn’t take long, maybe thirty minutes. After that, we can relax and enjoy the afternoon together. And, who knows… maybe tonight at the party…?”

Her attitude changed abruptly, a complete one-eighty. “Yes? Tonight? What’s going to happen?”

“You’ll see,” I said slyly. “In the meantime, come over here.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid across. I put my arm around her.

“You know I love you,” I said, and she nodded. “I want to spend my life with you.” Another nod. “I want to have a family with you. And I want to grow old with you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Me too.”

“Now, with all that ahead of us, forty or fifty years, do you think you can wait four or five hours?”

“It doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way.”

“It isn’t.”

“I know. Only…” She sighed and leaned into me. “I’ll be patient. I won’t like it, though.”

I laughed. “I’d be surprised if you did.”

* * *

Wren had packed quite a spread, roast chicken, potato salad, carrot and raisin salad, and even blackberry cobbler for dessert. None of it had been in the kitchen the night before—we would’ve eaten it if it had—which meant she’d made everything fresh, just for us.

She’d even added a couple of bottles of wine, although she’d been smart enough not to include any of the champagne we’d bought for the party. That would’ve been a dead giveaway that we might have something to celebrate.

“What’s so funny?” Christy asked idly.

She was lying on her back with her head on my hip. My hand rested lightly on her breast, but we weren’t in the mood for sex. We were both stuffed from lunch, content to listen to the sound of the waterfall and watch the clouds float by.

“Nothing,” I fibbed. “Wren. How she takes care of us. Well, how she takes care of you.”

“She takes care of you too.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t the same.”

“I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Because you know I’m right,” I chuckled. “You’re the center of the universe.”

“That isn’t a very nice thing to say.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“Still…”

“You’re center of my universe.”

“Better.”

“The center of hers, too. She loves Trip, but…”

“It’s different,” Christy agreed.

“You’re the center of Brooke’s universe.”

“Mmm.”

“You don’t think so?”

“She… isn’t like Wren,” Christy said after a moment. “She’s more like me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Only that we like guys better.”

I nodded. Wren had said as much.

“And Brooke’s more… I dunno… open-minded. Don’t get me wrong, I love Wren, but sometimes she drives me crazy.”

“Same with Trip and me,” I agreed.

We fell silent, each lost in our own thoughts.

“I do love them, though,” Christy said at last. “I can’t imagine life without them.”

“Me neither.”

“Leah and Mark, too. I really like her. She’s funnier than I thought she’d be.”

“She’s a lot like her dad,” I said. “He has a wisecrack for everything.”

“Mmm. And Mark’s perfect for her. He’s so cool. Nothing bothers him.” She laughed. “I get the feeling he’s a little bit… um… bi?” She glanced up to judge my reaction, and I didn’t deny it. “I thought so. My radar. I don’t know if he’d ever do anything about it—”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“—but he definitely isn’t bothered by the thought of it. Brooke told me how she played with you guys. How she rubbed you together, I mean.” She glanced up again to check my reaction. “And she told me about the ‘pregnant bedspread’ thing.”

“Oh, that. Friendly fire.”

“Trip was freaked out, wasn’t he? By all of it, I mean.”

“A little bit,” I admitted.

“You and Mark were fine with it, though, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. I can’t really complain about getting a little semen on me, even if it isn’t mine.”

“Especially when you expect me to wear it proudly.”

“I thought you liked—?”

“I do. I love it. But it helps that you aren’t a hypocrite about it. And you don’t make me feel dirty that I like it.” She sighed happily. “One of the million-billion things I love about you.”

“And one of the things I love about you,” I agreed.

“If only you had a way to show it,” she said faux-wistfully. “Like, with some kind of symbol.” She laughed before I could say anything. “Sorry, I’ll behave. You’ll ask when you’re ready.”

“Mmm.”

“I still need to give you a hard time about it, though. Brooke thinks I’m nuts. Only, she doesn’t know you like I do. Besides, she’s way too serious. Erin thinks I need to tease you more.”

“Oh, she does, does she?”

“Of course! She’s your sister. That’s what sisters do.” She sighed. “I wish we could do something before she leaves, but… Oh, well. We’ll plan something for later. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Can I bug you about it till it happens?”

“Funny, ha ha,” Christy said. “But I don’t think you understand. I meant what I said to Leah last night… or this morning… or whenever.” She waved away the specifics—they weren’t important. “I must’ve thought about you and Erin, like, a million times since you told me. The same with Laurence and me. Now we have the chance to do it for real? Oh my gosh, Paul!”

I chuckled. “Anything to make you happy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sarcasm.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll be more serious. I would do anything to make you happy.”

“Thank you,” she said in earnest. “I know you think I’m just being silly, but…” She shrugged and changed directions. “I’m very lucky. To have you, I mean.”

“I feel the same about you.”

“I’m excited too. And not just about tonight. This is our future, isn’t it? The group, I mean, everyone here now.”

“I hope so.”

“Me too.”

I caressed her shoulder, and she kissed the back of my hand.

“I love you,” she said. “Very, very much.”

“I love you too.”

We fell silent. The waterfall splashed into the lake below, and the clouds floated serenely above. Christy sighed, and I knew she was reliving the past couple of days, although she surprised me with a derisive snort.

“Dilettante.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe they thought I was some kind of dilettante,” she complained.

“Well, you have to admit that Catholics don’t become swingers very often. Even lapsed ones.”

“I’m not lapsed. Only, I sort of am, but not in my heart. Besides, Catholics are like everyone—some are prudes, some are perverts. Most are in the middle, like my mom. I always thought she was a good Catholic, but she’s the one who wanted me on birth control. And she’s known all along that we were sleeping together.”

“True,” I said. “She’s been in my corner since the beginning, even if it meant going against some of her beliefs.”

“Mmm hmm. And especially when you were a big meanie.”

“When was that?” I chuckled.

“Last year, when you added all those notches to your bedpost,” she said matter-of-factly. “When you slept with her.”

“You told your mom about that?”

“No, of course not,” Christy said. “But she figured it out anyway. She said you weren’t ready for a serious relationship.”

“I’m not surprised. She’s a very smart woman.”

“Mmm.”

“And… funny you should mention the notches in my bedpost.”

“What about them?”

“The survey equipment,” I said, deliberately cryptic. The tripod and post were leaning against a tree about ten feet away. I’d put them there with the idea that the post could hide in plain sight.

Christy rolled to her stomach and followed my gaze. “What about them?”

“That’s what I had to use. A bedpost. I needed a surveyor’s target, but I couldn’t find one. So I made it.”

“Seriously? Out of a bedpost?”

“Yep. It’s the right size and shape.” It wasn’t, but she didn’t know that.

“Oh my gosh, that’s funny.”

More than you know, I thought smugly. “Speaking of which,” I said aloud, “are you ready to do the measurements?”

“I suppose we should.” She stood, and I admired her body for a moment. She felt me staring and grew self-conscious. “What? Do I have dirt on my butt?” She turned and looked. “A piece of carrot or something?”

“No, you’re beautiful.” I stood and gathered her into my arms. “I’m lucky to have you. Lucky you’re so stubborn, that you never gave up on me.”

“I wanted to,” she admitted. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Mmm. But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.” She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to my chest. I kissed the top of her head, and she inhaled slowly. We stood like that for a timeless moment. Then she sighed. “I don’t even care what happens tonight.”

“With the party?”

“Ugh. You’re so infuriating sometimes.” She leaned back and glared up at me. “I’m trying to be serious, and you’re still being… cagey!”

“Sorry. I’ll behave.”

“Thank you. And you know what I’m talking about, the thing I said I wouldn’t mention again.”

“Oh, that!” I chuckled. “What about it?”

Her expression softened. “I don’t even care anymore. I love you, and I don’t need a proposal. I don’t need a ring or anything, as long as I have you.” She paused, in case I had something to add.

I didn’t, but I gave her points for trying.

“My mother warned me,” she said with a sigh.

“Oh?”

“She said I’d met my match, that I couldn’t bully you. Can you believe it? My own mother called me a bully.”

I could, but too much honesty was bad for a relationship.

“I’ll forget you said that,” she said darkly.

I nodded and decided that smirking was bad for a relationship too.

“That too.”

“Yes, dear.”

“She also said you’d make me happy. She didn’t mention how stubborn and infuriating you’d be.”

“That’s just a bonus.”

Christy looked into my eyes and said, very earnestly, “Paul Dean Hughes, I do love you. You do make me happy. And I have met my match.”

“I sense a ‘but’…”

“But if I’m not wearing my nana’s ring—my ring—by the end of the party…”

“Ha!”

“I’m serious,” she warned.

“C’mon, Little Bit, let’s get these measurements done.”

“As long as you understand.”

“Oh, I do,” I chuckled. “Believe me, I do.”

* * *

We spent fifteen minutes “taking measurements” in the clearing at the top of the falls. I asked Christy to stand in several locations with the bedpost-target, while I sighted through the brass telescope and pretended to read distances and angles. Mostly I enjoyed looking at her, my own petite Playmate.

Still, I dutifully made notes in my sketchbook, and she never suspected a thing. Why should she? The telescope was real enough, and she didn’t know the difference between it and a surveyor’s transit. I’d told her about the bedpost, too, and she didn’t have any reason to suspect that the construction-paper target might be hiding an inscription.

“One more at the bottom,” I called.

She joined me and waited as I folded the heavy tripod and heaved it onto my shoulder.

“You want me to carry the target?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. It was a calculated risk, but she didn’t disappoint me.

“No, it isn’t heavy. I can carry it.”

“In that case,” I said, another risk, “hand me my backpack.”

“I can carry it too.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s light. And your hands are full.”

“Thanks. Then… let’s go.”

We started around the quarry rim, and I had to suppress a smile. The backpack held her grandmother’s ring and the little heart-shaped pillow. The bedpost was the proposal itself. Christy carried them both, just like I’d planned, all without suspecting a thing.

We chatted about the quarry plans as we walked. Her excitement (and distraction) grew with every step. Then we reached the rocky beach at the bottom, where I set up and leveled the tripod.

My hands trembled as I swung the telescope and pointed it at the waterfall. My heart had begun pumping faster as well, and my breathing struggled to keep up. I took a deep breath through my nose and forced a smile.

“Where do you want me?” Christy asked. She knew what to do and didn’t have any reason to be excited. Yet.

“We only need one measurement,” I said, as calmly as I could, “but it’s the big one. Over there, by the—” My voice cracked, something it hadn’t done in years.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Frog in my throat.”

I’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, but none of it mattered. Now that it was here, I felt a rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and imagined floating on a sea of calm.

I can do this, I told myself with more confidence than I actually felt.

The little head echoed the encouragement, You can do this.

“What’s so funny?”

My eyes snapped open.

“You were smiling,” Christy said. Then she read me perfectly. “What did he say?”

“Oh, the usual.”

“Does he need some attention?”

Something tells me I’m gonna have all the attention I can handle, he said smugly. Very soon.

“Maybe in a few minutes,” I said aloud. “Let’s finish this first.” I returned to the script. “Stand over there, please, on the boulders. The big flat one at the edge of the water. That’s it, perfect. Now, face me. Hold the target straight.”

My heart hadn’t slowed, although my lungs had finally caught up. I bent and peered through the telescope. It was an antique, but the lenses were still good. Christy leapt into focus when I turned the knob.

I wanted to remember this forever, so I paused to admire her. She wore her hair in a ponytail, and she’d put on makeup after her shower. She never wore much, just enough to highlight her eyes and give her lips a little gloss. Her skin was the same caramel color everywhere, including her smooth pussy.

She realized what I was doing and grinned. Then she moistened her lips, suggestive and innocent at the same time. After a moment she grew self-conscious. She blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was such a familiar gesture that my breath caught in my throat.

“Do you need me to do anything?” she asked nervously.

I straightened and looked at her over the telescope. “Nope. You’re perfect. We’re almost done. One last thing.”

I took another deep breath. I can do this.

You can do this.

I can do this, I said again.

If not, you can always ask Rosy.

Will you focus! I snapped.

“Is he giving you a hard time?” Christy asked.

“Yeah.”

“Tell him to behave. We’ll take care of him soon.”

I joined her on the boulder and slid past her. She turned to face me as I knelt with my back to the lake. I reached for the backpack. My fingers trembled, but I controlled them and opened the zipper. Christy watched curiously and didn’t suspect a thing.

“I thought you might like a souvenir,” I said. I turned the bedpost and tore off the construction paper. My heart raced, but I reminded myself that she couldn’t see the carved inscription. I removed the last of the tape, wadded it with the paper, and dropped it into the open backpack.

“Hold the post for me,” I asked politely.

She did, although her brows knitted in confusion when I reached into the backpack and pulled out the blue silk pillow. I covered the ring with my thumb. Then I smiled up at her as I tied the ribbon around the post.

“You got me a bedpost?” she asked uncertainly.

“Not just any bedpost. This is a special one.”

“Special how?”

I swallowed hard.

C’mon, you can do this! Faint heart never won fair lady.

She grinned. “What did he say?”

“Faint heart never won fair lady.”

“What?” she laughed. “Why would he—?” Her expression went slack when she realized I was down on one knee. Her eyes flicked to the lake and then the waterfall behind me. She looked down at the post. Then she closed her mouth and swallowed hard.

“This is a special bedpost.” I cleared my throat and continued in a stronger voice, “It belongs to PDH, but that’s crossed out. The new owner is CMH.”

“CMH?” she said uncertainly.

“Uh-huh. And there’s a line below that, with a single notch. Yours.”

I turned it and showed her the inscription, although her eyes immediately went to the little pillow and her grandmother’s ring.

I’d rehearsed something eloquent, something poetic, but I couldn’t remember a single word of it. I said the first thing that came to mind.

“Will you marry me?”

Her eyes filled with happy tears. She nodded enthusiastically but then laughed. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“In that case…” She smiled and paused, just long enough to remind me how long I’d made her wait. Then she said the word I’d been waiting a lifetime to hear.

“Yes.”