Aimee Bennett looked around the room she had grown up in. Only this wasn't Aimee Bennett's room. This place had belonged to Aimee Soto, and one had never felt so far away from the other. The only part of the room that was recognizable to her was the view out the window, and even there, the lemon tree had grown craggy and wild when she remembered a sapling.

She had lived in this room for sixteen years. She'd first shared it with Dani, but then her eldest sister Grace had gone off to college, and Dani had upgraded to her room. Seven years it had been hers and hers alone. She had grown from a child to a woman in this place, and it was engraved in her memory, as clear as any person she had ever known.

But not anymore. Her things were gone, packed into boxes in the attic. The room, her room, had been turned into a generic guest room. A bed with floral sheets, an end table that had never known much use, a dresser that had never held her clothes.

The walls were decorated with pictures of her and her siblings. She smiled from a golden frame, stainless steel railroad tracks over her teeth. She'd grown to hate the phrase "ugly duckling," but it applied. She'd always felt like the least glamorous of her sisters, not the elfin beauty of Grace nor the athletic power of Dani. She was nerdy little Aimee, the baby of the family, the bookworm, the teacher's pet. The one who could get away with anything, but never did. Boundaries were inviolate, and she'd spent her life respecting them without thinking.

She went into her closet--no longer her closet, but storage for linens--and dropped to her knees just inside the doorjamb. It was still there, hidden in the shadows by the door, nearly impossible to find unless you knew it was there. A butterfly, carved into the wood. She'd put it there when she was twelve, compelled to do it by something inside her that she didn't quite understand. It was her little secret and whenever the world became too much, she could stay right here and run her fingers over the cuts in the wood. She felt powerful in the secret, comforted, and ultimately whole.

Without her things, her posters, stuffed animals, trophies, books, and toys, the room felt bigger. Empty. She was home, but it wasn't the home she remembered. For the first time she regretted not bringing Emma. Martin wanted the time with their daughter, telling Aimee she should enjoy her visit home. But this wasn't quite home anymore.

The reunion had drawn her back. She didn't like the word. She kept imagine being judged by the same people who had judged her back in high school. The only reason she was going was to see the friends she'd lost touch with. And because she felt some urge, some calling to return home that she didn't truly understand. Maybe to truly understand that it wasn't home. Going back to go forward.

She hadn't been here for six years, not since getting married, moving a thousand miles north, and popping out a kid. She had a good life, but a hole lingered in the middle of it that she had no idea how to fill.

"Why didn't you bring Emma?" her mother asked as Aimee came downstairs. Her mother, Eloisa, had asked the same thing at the airport and again when they got home.

"You'll see her on Christmas."

"You promise to come this year?"

"Yeah, I promise." The idea of a warm Christmas had a lot of appeal, but she wasn't going to say that. "I don't know what you're complaining about. Grace's kids are like an hour away."

"Two. With traffic."

"Still!"

"I love them! But Emma's the baby of my baby," Eloisa said. "You can't blame me for wanting to see her."

"Okay, okay. I almost brought her, but I needed a break."

"I didn't need a break and I had four of you." Aimee refused take that bait. Eloisa, not eliciting the reaction she so clearly wanted, tried a different tack. "I would have taken care of Emma while you were here. Your father wants to see her too, you know."

"Okay, okay. Christmas! I promise."

"How about summer? Come down, go to the beach. Lord knows that husband of yours could use a little color."

More bait she wasn't going to take. Best thing to do was just agree. "Sure, yeah. I'll talk to Martin. We'll work it out. You can get all the Emma time you would ever want." Aimee went to the door.

"No such thing. Where are you going?"

"Meeting up with Shannon and Kayla."

"Oh, Kayla! How is she?"

"I'll let you know after I see her."

"Don't be smart," her mother said, walking over, then standing up on tiptoes to give her a kiss. "Have fun."

Aragon Beach wasn't big a big place, and it was a short walk from the Soto house to Fairview Avenue, the main drag of their quaint shopping district. Streets poked down to the beach, the shops growing more touristy as they went, the bars louder, the food greasier.

The town really did look smaller. It was such a cliché, and she was annoyed at herself for thinking it, but as Aimee walked down Fairview, she could not escape how tiny everything looked. When she was little, of course it had seemed huge. Even when she was in high school, driving from one end to another to make enough babysitting money to pay for concert tickets and the tanks of gas to get her there, it had been her entire world.

Aimee's destination was a place she'd never been called Average Joe. The storefront had been a video store in years past, when those were a viable business. Her cousin had worked there for years.

Aimee remembered coming here when she was a kid. Her cousin had introduced her to anime, and Aimee had fallen in love with the cluttered worlds of Miyazaki. Video Lab was gone now, vanished in the years Aimee had been away, and its absence irrevocably altered the landscape of this street. The sadness she felt was real, no matter how silly she felt mourning that old spot.

The bell at the door rang as Aimee pushed her way inside. She gave the place a once-over, looking for her friends, the rich smells of brewing coffee and sugar tickling her senses. The faces in her mind were them at twenty, the last year the three of them had hung out on these streets over summer break from different far-flung colleges. They would be different, heavier, maybe wrinkles, glasses where they hadn't been needed before. Aimee was confident she'd recognize their eyes. Those never changed.

"Aimee Soto?"

Aimee turned, not registering that the voice didn't sound like Shannon or Kayla, but fully expecting to see one of her two oldest friends anyway.

Instead, she saw a young woman she didn't recognize. She was dressed for spring in Aragon: shorts, a light jacket, and a Bikini Kill shirt they probably sold in half a dozen boutiques by the pier. The woman couldn't be older than twenty, her skin pale with a few freckles on her cheeks. She wore her crow-black hair in a shaggy pixie cut. Her chin was small, pointed, a tiny cleft in the center. Striking, no arresting really, were her eyes. Behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, they were glacier blue. With that color, they should have looked mad and empty, but the depth Aimee saw in them was anything but.

The woman stared at Aimee with those incredible eyes filled with unsure recognition, a frown creasing her forehead. Aimee read the look on her face, momentary panic over the embarrassment of saying the wrong name.

"Yeah. I'm Aimee Soto." And then it dawned on her. She'd seen eyes like that only on one person. "Oh my god, Kitty Morrison?"

"Yeah," said the woman, smiling in relief and standing for a hug. Aimee enfolded the woman in her arms. The last time they'd hugged, Aimee had to kneel. "It's Kit now, but that's me."

"It's Aimee Bennett now."

"Oh, wow." Kit looked her up and down. "You look incredible."

"I look incredible? Look at you! All grown up. You couldn't have been more than..." Aimee fumbled, the number escaping her.

"I was ten."

"Ten, wow. Twelve years." The reasoning came rushing back, why she had stopped seeing Kitty. Aimee had turned sixteen and gotten a real job at the ice cream place on the pier. Suddenly babysitting money didn't seem like much. She'd been shocked to find she'd missed it, but money was money. Only one job could enable her to see Depeche Mode at Staples. She shook the memory away. "How are you? What are you up to?"

"I'm good. I'm in school. Journalism major."

"Journalism? I could have called that. We used to play--"

"Newspaper, yeah," Kit smiled, color reaching her cheeks.

"That's so crazy, what are you--"

"Aimee?"

Aimee turned and this time she was certain this was Shannon. The other woman was rounder, but it was the same eyes, the same smile, the same voice. "Shannon, hey!" They hugged and Aimee gestured to Kit. "This is Kit Morrison. I used to babysit her."

"Hi," Kit said. "Listen, I have to go. It was awesome seeing you, Aimee."

Aimee hugged her again. She had the sudden memory of the first time she'd babysat for Kit, hugging the little girl who sobbed when her parents left. Aimee'd held her until the sobs dried up and the two of them had baked cookies. Awful, inedible cookies, but it had made little Kitty Morrison feel better. "I'm in town all week," she said impulsively.

"We should get a drink. Catch up." Kit gave her cell number and Aimee put it into her phone. It took a few tries because Aimee's hands were jittery for no reason she could name. Then Kit was out the door.

Aimee sat down with Shannon and before long Kayla joined them. The first part of the reunion of the class of '05.

It was like no time had passed at all. They fell into their old patter, all the shorthand and inside jokes that came from being in school together for years. They asked about Martin and Emma, and Aimee asked them about their families. Shannon had married the guy who ran the surf shop. Aimee and Kayla had a good laugh about that, since they all used to think he was ancient and maybe a little skeevy. Aimee was the only one with a kid (or "crotch fruit" as per to Kayla) and they both dutifully looked at pictures, Shannon markedly more interested than Kayla.

They promised to meet each other the following night. Aimee made it home for dinner with her parents. They remarked that it felt weird without Grace and Dani and Art, but not for Aimee. They had scattered to the winds just like she had, filtering out of the house one by one. Aragon Beach was a small place, not nearly big enough for the Soto kids. The house felt smaller but also emptier, as Eloisa and Arturo Sr. shrank through their middle age. Even those final two years of high school when Aimee was the only one left home couldn't compare to this.

Everything had shrunk. Everything except Kitty. Kit, Aimee reminded herself. Kit loomed large in her mind, no less so for being a mystery. She was twenty-two now, which meant senior year in college. She would be starting her life soon, for real. Only six years separated them. It had seemed like so much more, but that was how these things worked. When Kitty had sobbed for her parents, she had been five and Aimee was twelve. Those were different worlds. Now, they were contemporaries.

She found herself staring at her phone. She didn't know why she hesitated, but something put importance on this call, elevated it in her mind. She forced herself to scroll through the menu for Kit's number, stabbing the call button before her conscious mind could second-guess the action. She put the phone to her ear. The buzzing ring was a finger up her spine. She hoped Kit wouldn't answer and prayed she would.

"Hey." Kit's voice.

A long pause as Aimee registered that in fact was not the beginning of a voice mail. "Kit," she barely stopped herself from adding the second syllable. "It's me, Aimee."

"Yeah, I saw your name. Glad you called. Want to grab lunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah!" The eagerness made Aimee cringe. When she spoke again, it was lower, calmer. "Yeah. Hey, is Gremmie's still there?"

Kit laughed. "It sure is."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all, Gremmie's it is. Noon?"

"Sounds good. I can't wait to hear how you've been doing."

"It'll be fun to catch up. See you tomorrow."

Aimee ended the call and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She held her phone to her heart, which was thundering and she wasn't going to interrogate why, merely enjoy a sensation she hadn't felt in a long time. She stared at the ceiling where the last remnants of her glow-in-the-dark star stickers still clung, now mere outlines against the white paint. Her heart refused to slow down, the pounding insistent. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. A memory sprang crystal clear in her mind, of the night Martin had made his move, when the making out took the next step. She had remembered his hand creeping down her body, touching first her belly, then the tops of her jeans. She had thought of that hand, commanded it with her mind. Go! Come on! By the time he had unbuttoned her jeans and his hand slipped beneath, it had been a relief. A short-lived one, replaced by a roiling in her belly as he started to work.

She came to her herself and found a hand on her breast, the other between her legs. She was still dressed. With Emma around, she hadn't had a ton of time to herself, let alone be with Martin. They'd let their sex life sputter, the few times they'd managed were hurried and unsatisfying. She hadn't been able to do much about herself either. She was alone, truly alone, something she hadn't been since Emma was born.

She'd discovered masturbation in this very room, learning exactly where she liked to be touched long before anyone else had gotten the opportunity. In those days, it had been every night before sleeping, a nice way to usher herself to dreamland. Now, this was a perfect way to celebrate her high school reunion would be going back to her favorite hobby from high school. The door was locked and she had sweet privacy.

She ran her hand up her belly, taking her shirt with it. The baby had left a little extra weight on her, and now she relished the soft feel of herself. It was more intimate, more sensual. Her breasts had changed as well, grown heavier, the nipples more sensitive. Emma had just been weaned too, and thank god for that. Her breasts were hers again, and as she brought her fingers to them, a delicious shiver spiderwebbed from each hardening point.

She sighed, allowing her mind to wander. She put Martin there first, but no, that wasn't right. Chris Evans was reliable. She'd audibly gasped during the sequence in Winter Soldier when he'd curled the helicopter. Martin had glanced over and stifled a chuckle while she burned with amused embarrassment. She imagined Captain America's mouth on her, taking her with the surety of a hero.

No, that wasn't right either. She let her mind off the leash. Let it wander. She eased into the sensations, following the technicolor threads that washed through her body. She felt her right hand, of its own accord, creep down her body. She undid the button of her shorts, the fly coming down easily. Her hand was on her panties now, soaking wet.

She opened her eyes to glance at the door once again. Still shut, still locked. She lifted her hips, sliding her shorts down and off. Her panties stayed. A far cry from the thongs she'd worn back when she was dating. The ones that showed off her ass, round and firm with a pleasant jiggle, the result of playing soccer in high school, then college, then every weekend at the park. Martin used to love to peel them off of her, but that was always the end of his interest there. Her ass was always look but don't touch for him.

She left her panties on because taking them off felt wrong. She wasn't quite safe, locked door be damned. She could still pretend that she wasn't doing this, if somehow someone came in, and her hand was jammed down the front of her underwear, her shirt hiked over her breasts, that she was doing something else. Just checking for lumps. Being conscientious.

She brushed her hand over her pussy. That was another change. She'd shaved it all through college, but since Emma, what was the point? No one was enjoying it. Now she had cultivated what she'd started calling her mom bush, a shaggy covering of black hair. She stroked it now, soft like the rest of her.

She ran her finger down her cleft, and she opened up, hot and wet. She tucked her finger inside herself, gasping at the exploration, the brief blissful feeling of fullness. Then out, moving up, to the top of her, to her button. A swirl here, a feather brush and the sparks of pleasure radiated through her as tremors. She knew these places well. This was like coming home again. She could cum in minutes or she could stretch it out. She wanted to take her time, wanted to give herself everything that she had been missing.

Her mind, unmoored while her hands played, wandered down passages she thought forgotten. Back through her college boyfriends, their faces blurring, their attentions on her nothing more than a pleasant slurry.

And then her mind snagged. Caught by the hand of memory and spun into a wet embrace. One glorious night when the alchemy of desire, of alcohol, and of circumstances had been right. In her mind's eye, in the close heat of her dorm room, filling with the musky scent of sex, looking down at the bobbing head between her thighs.

The face looked up, and it was her friend Brooke.

That night had been the best sex of her life. No one had been as tender, as soft as Brooke. No one had known her secret places as well, exactly how to play them like a sweet instrument. The only thing better than the bolts of pleasure she felt as Brooke brought her to orgasm was returning the favor. Seeing Brooke writhing and moaning prettily was enough to bring on another bout of delicious shuddering.

But that had only been one night. It was like they had left their lives for one incredible night and when they returned, they couldn't recapture it. Brooke was never the same around her, going back to the same boyfriend she'd dumped right before. Aimee found herself with Martin not too long after that, and so that night had been put in the past. She scarcely let herself think about it.

Now, as her finger circled her button, throwing showers of sparks over her soul, all she could think of was Brooke's tongue drawing the same circles. Her breath caught and a low moan escaped from her throat. She gritted her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers shedding explosion after explosion. The sparks flew from her sex, igniting nerves as they landed in a scintillating snowfall.

In her mind, Brooke's face was between her legs, fingers fucking in and out of her as her agile tongue found places that only Aimee ever had in her most private moments. Each explosion triggered another and another, and she felt a final one behind the first, the sparks rebounding off it, each one making it grow and grow and grow.

She concentrated on her button now. And it wasn't her touch that pushed her over. It was Brooke's face, mouth hidden, her eyes meeting Aimee's. The final explosion took her. Her entire body shuddered in the ecstatic pleasure.

She lay there, limp on the bed. The smell of her hung low in the room. She didn't want to leave that space yet. She brought her hand up, her fingers shiny. Without thinking too much about it, she popped them in her mouth. Musky and bold, she pretended this was Brooke.

And then Brooke's face was gone and she saw Kit Morrison's eyes, looking like nothing more than the underside of a glacier, sunlight streaming through to the untouched depths.

Gremmie's was a burger grill on the sand. It had been open since the '60s, built for the surfers who were out on the big waves at dawn. It was a rundown shack with a wooden patio, plastic tables and chairs under sun-faded umbrellas. The guy working the flat top was the original owner's son, aged into a clone of his old man, portly, balding, and tanned. He kept the music turned up, all old hits from the '80s, while his daughters carried plastic baskets of burgers and fries to customers. Everyone from Aragon spent their high school years at Gremmie's.

Aimee walked down to the shoreline. Gremmie's was on the northern edge of the shoreline boardwalk, where the cliffs grew high and the beach turned rocky. Meat hissed on the flat top, filling the air with a savory miasma that blended pleasantly with the salt air. Aimee stood at the edge of the patio thanks to the one ironclad rule. Sit down without ordering, get ready for Tony, the owner, to blow his top. Seats are for paying customers only! Order some fries though, and he'd let you sit there all day.

Aimee was too nervous to sit anyway. She wasn't going to name why, instead letting herself circle it, leaving it tantalizingly off-limits to her conscious mind. When she saw Kit striding across the sand, her heart leapt. That too wasn't questioned.

Kit's long legs were bare, poking from a pair of cutoffs that just reached the tops of her thighs. She carried a pair of flipflops hooked to one finger. A cartoon picture of Debbie Harry pursed her lips on the painted tank top, and a light plaid overshirt fluttered in the breeze. Her incredible eyes were hidden behind a pair of chunky sunglasses and a floppy hat kept the sun off her face. She looked so grown up, so adult, that abruptly Aimee felt like the kid.

Kit's wide mouth broke into a smile, her freckled nose crinkling adorably. Aimee remembered loving the way it did that. When Aimee would come over to babysit and Kit would answer the door, the same smile would spread over her face, anticipating a fun evening ahead. This time that smile ran a finger up Aimee's spine.

"Aimee, hey," Kit said, hugging her. "Gremmie's, huh? I haven't been here in years."

"I had a craving."

The two of them ordered burgers, fries, and drinks off Gremmie's ridiculously small menu. Tony's eldest daughter--she had been in Grace's class, Aimee remembered suddenly--wrote the tickets, rang them up, and gave them their Diet Cokes in waxed cardboard cups. The two of them sat down at the edge of the patio under an umbrella advertising some forgotten brand of shark jerky.

"What are you doing back in Aragon?" Kit asked.

"Class of '05 reunion."

"I don't know that I'd go to mine."

"I didn't think I would either, but I wanted to see some friends. See this place. And hey, I got to run into my favorite babysitting buddy."

Kit smiled, looking at the table. A long time ago, someone had carved J.R. + L.V.. Kit's fingers ran over the letters. "You always called me that."

"It was the truth. Of all the kids I babysat, you were my favorite."

"When you suddenly stopped coming over, I didn't understand it."

Tony's daughter--Aimee wished she could remember her name, but it wouldn't come--brought their food in red plastic baskets. The fries glistened in in their drying grease.

"I'm sorry about that," Aimee said. "Seemed important at the time. I got another job."

"At the ice cream place. Yeah, I remember. I used to see you there."

"You never came in."

Kit chuckled. "I thought that if I did, you'd tell me you didn't like me anymore. Dumb kid stuff."

"Oh, Kit."

"It's dumb, like I said."

"It's not. I should have said something, been honest with you. I wish I had. Can I say I'm sorry?"

Kit nodded, color creeping into her cheeks. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Kit. I turned sixteen, I wanted more money and I sold out my favorite babysitting buddy to get it."

"It's okay," Kit said, and Aimee watched a weight come off the other woman. Her back was a little straighter, her shoulders rolled a little farther back.

Aimee tried the burger and memories of high school washed over her like the waves on the beach. The endless evenings here, lingering until Tony pointedly started taking the chairs into the little shed next to the grill, where they'd be stored until opening the next day.

"Good as you remember?" Kit asked.

"I don't think I like it because it's good, I think I like it because I grew up on it." She'd had better burgers in her life, better meals, but none she'd like as much. "So what are you doing here? Isn't it Spring Break?"

Kit nodded. "Sure is. Wasn't in the mood for a trip."

"Why not?"

She smiled self-consciously. "Got dumped."

"He's an idiot."

"She."

Aimee blinked. "What?"

"She. That would be the big news, I guess. I'm gay."

"Oh." Aimee's mind raced. She saw Brooke's eyes glittering just over the low rise of her belly.

Kit laughed. "That was my mother's reaction."

"No, sorry. Just caught me off guard. I mean, I'm still getting used to you being all grown up."

"I don't know about that."

"I still think you're awesome," Aimee said, and winced when she heard herself.

"Thanks. I don't know what people are supposed to say either, but I need to tell them. Well, some of them. The ones who matter."

"I matter?"

"You're my favorite babysitting buddy, aren't you?"

The baggage of the past had been set down. Aimee and Kit caught up. Before Aimee knew it, hours had passed, the baskets long since emptied, and Tony abided by his unspoken contract. Once you bought something, you were welcome. The last remaining surfers came in from the water, their bronze skin beaded with water, their feet white with sand. Aimee's gaze lingered over them, college-aged guys with college-aged bodies.

"Hey, brown eyes," one of the surfers said. Aimee was about to correct him, Kit's eyes were blue, and how could he make that mistake, when Aimee noticed he was actually addressing her.

"What?"

"I said, hey brown eyes. Haven't seen you around."

"Hey, chump," Kit said, putting her hand over Aimee's. "We're on a date here."

The guy's eyebrows shot up. With his hair sun-bleached and skin cooked dark, his eyebrows looked like highlights. "Oh, damn. My bad. Just want you two to know that I'm down."

"That's a relief," Kit said. She laughed when he walked away. "Every damn time. I sit down with a hot woman and it's like I'm not even here."

"Hot woman?"

"Oh, come on, Aimee. You own a mirror."

"I mean, I had a good window there for a minute. College mostly. Sophomore year. Before break."

Kit chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, okay. What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"I have a dinner thing with some friends later."

"Okay," Kit said, her pretty face falling for a fraction of a second.

"I'm free all day tomorrow," Aimee said quickly.

"Beach day?"

"Sounds good!"

Kit made plans to pick Aimee up at nine. Aimee never wondered until later why she needed to be picked up when the beach was an easy walk. That night when she began to take care of herself, she put the image of the surfer in her mind, thought about his hands on her hips, his athletic body pressed against hers, spreading her legs, and then, the fantasy was hijacked. He spun her, and it wasn't him but Kit. Kit's hands, Kit's mouth. Aimee came hard, her mind's eye fixed on Kit as the young woman devoured her whole.

Aimee's heart was thundering as she got ready. She pulled on her bathing suit, a modest two piece she'd bought before Emma. She'd managed to lose some of the baby weight, but she suspected a bit would always hang onto her frame. The bikini didn't quite fit, giving the impression that she was set to spill out of it at any second. The blue fabric hugged her olive skin, and she turned about in front of the mirror. Would Kit have said she was hot if she saw her now?

She pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a t-shirt, then an overshirt, and a pair of sandals. She packed a bag with a towel and sunscreen.

A knock sounded at her door. "Aimee?" It was her mother. "You have a visitor. Kitty Morrison! You remember her?"

Aimee opened the door. "She goes by Kit now. And yeah, we're hanging out at the beach today."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Have fun."

Aimee got downstairs in time to find her father, mid-rant about how any seasoning should be applied with a gentle rub. "People go too hard," he said, shaking his head. "Damages the meat. Texture is just as important as taste."

"That's a good tip, Mr. Soto," Kit said, nodding, then meeting Aimee's eyes and widening them.

"It's Art! You call me Art. You're a friend of my baby's, you're a friend of mine."

"Twenty-eight, Dad. Not a baby."

"You're not a baby, you're my baby," he said.

"Dad math."

Kit was parked outside, a gray Honda that was ten years old if it was a day. They climbed in and drove. Instead of heading west, the ten or so blocks down to the beach, Kit got onto the two-lane highway and went north.

"Where are we going?"

"Did you ever hang out by Yarrow Point?"

"A little," Aimee said. Now her heart had started up again. People went to Yarrow Point for one reason and that was the privacy. Maybe half the townies in Aragon had lost it on that tiny beach. Bonfires had been common there, since unlike in Aragon proper, the cops couldn't see the fire from the road.

"Last Spring Break here. Figured I should do the whole town. Hit every memory."

"I guess I'm kind of doing the same thing," she said, though Aimee knew it was closer to the opposite.

Yarrow Point was only ten minutes up the coast. Parking was a turnout, and Aimee found herself releasing a breath when she saw no other cars. They took their bags, crossed the blacktop, to what could be mistaken for a blind cliff. A wooden staircase, perversely rickety, descended the three stories to the beach below.

The point was a hook in the land that created a small beach that faced mostly south. The edges were hemmed in with rocks, and of course the yarrow-covered cliffs that gave the point its name. As Aimee stepped onto the wood, a monarch butterfly alighted on the minute yellow flowers blanketing the cliff. She had to stop and appreciate the simple natural beauty of it for a moment before following Kit.

The two of them set their towels out on the sand. In the morning, the beach was shaded, but by noon, the shadows would have fled. Kit then began to undress. Aimee watched out of the corner of her eye, desperately stopping herself from staring.

Kit pulled her top over her head. Her breasts, barely contained in two small triangles of turquoise material, weren't more than a handful, and Aimee realized that's how she thought of them, in relation to being touched. Kit's torso was long, her belly flat. Kit took her cutoffs down, revealing a small swatch of cloth between her legs, and two strings high over her slender hips. It was a far more daring suit than Aimee would have thought the other woman would wear.

Kit sat down on her towel and looked at Aimee. "Did you bring a suit?"

"Oh, yeah." Aimee stood and divested herself of her clothes, piece by piece. She couldn't decide if she wanted to hide herself from Kit or parade before her. Now what do you think? Aimee thought. Am I still hot?

But Kit never said a word. She smiled up at her and got to work lathering herself up with sunscreen. Aimee half-expected her to offer to apply it, but she merely handed over the tube. Aimee applied and the two of them lay back, watching the waves stroking the shore with a soothing susurrus. The air was enervating but the water carried a charge, and Aimee was filled with both pleasant fatigue and glorious energy at the same time.

Kit and Aimee talked about everything and nothing. As the day creeped toward noon, Aimee grew hungry and investigated the cooler. Kit had packed sandwiches and carrot sticks, along with water and orange soda. "You still like this?" Aimee asked, picking up a can.

"Yeah. Becka used to make fun of me."

"Becka. That was the girlfriend?"

"She used to say it was for little kids."

"I think that we want to feel like we did when we were little, so we're always going back for the things that made us happy then."

"It's kind of what we're doing back here."

Aimee nodded, cracked the can. It tasted like the days at the beach when she was little, the aluminum icy against overheated skin. "I don't think there's anything better."

"Were you...were you shocked when I told you I'm gay?" Kit asked.

"A little, but it's one of those things that's only surprising when you don't think about it. I think about you as a little girl, and I didn't know, but now looking back, yeah. It was obvious."

Kit laughed. "I used to stare, didn't I."

"What?"

"At you," Kit said. "I had the biggest crush on you. I used to think I would grow up and marry you." She laughed again, then looked at Aimee's stunned face and laughed louder.

"Okay, that part I missed."

"When I got a little older, I figured out that wasn't gonna happen. I'd see you around with that one guy..."

"Brad," she said, naming her high school boyfriend.

"Ugh. I fucking hated that guy."

"Sorry, the idea of anyone having a strong opinion on Brad Greene is bizarre."

"You dated him for like two years!"

"He asked! Weren't a lot of people doing that."

"If that's all it took," Kit said, laying back. "I would have given it a shot."

"Well, you were a little young at the time."

"At the time." Kit rolled over on her side. Though her eyes were behind those big sunglasses, Aimee could feel them on her own. "Not anymore."

Aimee laughed, but it was brittle, and she knew Kit would hear that false note. She held up her ring finger. "I'm married."

"That's not a no."

Aimee drank from the can of soda. After that moment, every time she had one in the future, the memory texture it carried was different. Charged. When she looked over, Kit was still staring at her. Aimee's eyes fell down the other woman's swanlike neck, to the brown freckles over her shoulders, down to the modest swell of her breasts. Kit's nipples poked against the fabric, and Aimee imagined the feel of them beneath her palm.

"Have you ever been with a woman?"

Aimee nodded, sipping soda down a suddenly-dry throat. "A friend in college."

"What happened?"

"It was one night. We were drunk, she was fresh off a break up. The stars aligned, I guess."

"Was it good?"

Aimee stared at the rim of orange soda on the lip of the can. "Oh yeah. Beyond good. Best I've ever had."

"Not your husband, huh?"

Aimee felt her face going hot. As long as she didn't look directly at Kit, she could keep being honest. "Martin's...Martin's fine. Good even. But it's never like it was that one night."

"Do you ever want to be with a woman again?"

"I hadn't thought about it for a long time. When I got married, I kind of put that night away. I thought that would be it for that part of me. But now?"

She didn't finish the thought. Kit was just there, guiding her mouth to Aimee's. She felt the other woman's tongue entering her with lovely tenderness, an exploration unlike the rougher kisses men always tried. Kit's hand went to her cheek and stayed there, a touch so impossibly light it felt like the air itself was with her.

They parted, and Kit murmured into her mouth, "I've been wanting to do that since I knew what kissing was."

"Kit, this is..."

"Shh," said the other woman. "It's just us. It's just this beach."

Aimee reached for Kit's mouth, her lips opening Kit's, her tongue running along the other woman's. She felt herself, unbidden, reaching for Kit. Now, her young charge took her. Aimee held Kit's face, unable to believe that this was happening, let alone with little Kit Morrison. Not so little anymore.

Kit moved with confidence, forceful but never overbearing. Aimee wanted her. Aimee let herself be taken, this soft assault, this gentle conquest. Kit's mouth found Aimee's neck, her lips finding sparks, igniting the nerves up Aimee's back. She gasped as she felt a hand on her breast, palm running lightly over her nipple.

Kit broke away and looked into Aimee's eyes. "I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever have in your life." A simple promise delivered with perfect confidence.

Aimee could only nod, her mouth reaching for Kit's. Her body was no longer her own. She was lost in this, a culmination not of a relationship but of that night with Brooke. It should have been more, but it was lost in the past, imprisoned in memory. Aimee felt Kit's hand running down her body. It paused at the top of her bathing suit, stroking the sensitive skin. Pressure built in Aimee's belly now. Each crash of the waves fueled it, grew it. Her mouth was hungry on Kit's, as though the furor of her kisses could compel that hand downward, to take was so plainly offered.

When Kit slipped beneath the elastic fabric, a quake shook Aimee's body. A tiny, shudder of pure bliss, a prelude to the true flood, igniting the nerve endings and turning her vision white. Kit's hand was on her pussy. The words rocketed through her mind, burned blue by the sunlight on her eyelids. A mad sentence, but a factual one. Kit's long-fingered hand rested on the fleshy folds, among the soft fleece.

Aimee gasped, spreading her legs. Then, a spark, as a finger parted her, running the length of her. Aimee made a pleading noise, her hips rocking forward, trying to compel Kit inside.

"I want you," she breathed.

"I know," Kit whispered into her mouth. "Tell me."

"I want you so fucking bad."

Kit took Aimee's bottom lip between her teeth, a spike of pain to go with the churning bliss of that finger running over her slit, over and over. Aimee chased and Kit retreated in a maddening game that only stoked the fire inside.

"Tell me," Kit said again, this time more firmly.

"Fuck me with your finger," Aimee moaned. The shame of the wanton words ignited her once again, this humiliating need to be taken, this base surrender to her desire. That humiliation made her heart soar, and she was light now, on that beach in broad daylight, begging little Kitty Morrison to fuck her.

"Good girl," Kit said, and with that final word, Aimee felt the slender digit slide inside her. She was not full yet, not nearly full enough, but so much better. Aimee sighed happily, her mouth going to Kit's neck again, the flesh there alive with the salt of sweat, the chemical citrus of sunscreen. A smell touched her senses now, over the ocean and the sand, a musk that was at once primal and reserved.

"More," Aimee said. "Please, more."

Kit guided her onto her back now, on her side, her breast against Aimee's cheek. Another finger slid into Aimee. It had been so long since anything had been inside her, she was starved, empty, until now, and she found she wanted nothing else.

Kit hooked her fingers, stroking above and inside, and Aimee cried out in surprised joy, gripping Kit's shoulders.

The other woman smirked at Aimee's cry, an expression of extreme confidence. A look that said she owned Aimee and she knew it. That face was almost better than the agile finger itself. Aimee found herself begging now, but the words were soft in her mouth, and sweet like orange soda. She could only grip as Kit relentlessly fucked into her.

A second pressure joined the first. A bolt, bright and blissful, shot through her body. And she breathlessly cursed again. Another fuck. Was it a command or just an exclamation? It no longer mattered.

The bolt came again, and faintly, Aimee's mind grasped the meaning of it. Kit's thumb, brushing over her clitoris. She worked in counterpoint, penetration, brush, faster and faster. The waves of pleasure crashed to her. Toes first, lighting her up, then up her legs, bringing with them electric tremors. Then through her ass, up her spine, to the back of her neck, the crown of her head. Then down to her nipples. No, that was Kit. She'd pulled Aimee's top down, her mouth closed over Aimee's full breast, tongue lashing the hard nipple. Then to her belly, a maelstrom of pleasure.

It all crashed down at once. Aimee was soaked in glory. She heard a cry, far off, but it was her. Her head thrown back, her spine arched, her hips frantically thrusting to wring the last bit of white hot pleasure from this.

Then she went limp on the towel. Distantly, she noted that her bikini top was pulled down, her nipples shiny with Kit's saliva. Her bottoms were soaked through. She shivered in the warm air, her chest heaving.

Kit sat on her elbow, grinning. She brought her fingers to her lips and deliberately popped them into her mouth. "I've been wanting to do that since...forever," she said.

Aimee took a long, shuddering breath. The aftershocks of her orgasm ran through her body as delicious tremors. "Fuck," she sighed again, unable to come up with anything else to say. The real world thundered in around her. Martin, a thousand miles away. This was cheating. And yet, try as she might, she didn't feel a single stab of guilt.

"Are you okay?" Kit asked, frowning. Her face softened, the confidence gone, and just for a moment, Aimee saw the little girl she had taken care of. And then it was gone, replaced by the gorgeous woman who had just given Aimee her first orgasm in far too long.

"Yeah, I think so."

Kit relaxed. "Good." Aimee started to put herself away, and Kit's hand fell on her wrist. "Don't."

"Kit, I'm naked."

"We're alone."

"Someone could show up at any time."

Kit stood up and defiantly took her top off and dropped it onto the towel. Her breasts were pale, light tan lines along the contours of the swell of soft flesh. Then, after a moment's hesitation, pulled her suit bottoms down, kicking them away. Aimee's eyes widened as she stared at Kit's bare sex. Her pussy was shaved clean, her lips glistening. A scent hit Aimee's nose and she realized she had smelled it before, that lovely musk.

"Holy...you're shaved."

"I know," Kit said, sitting down. "Nobody likes getting hair in their mouths."

"Never thought of it like that," she said. She stood up decisively, knowing that a single hesitation would mean she chickened out, and doffed her bathing suit. She shivered, the wind brushing her wet nipples and ruffling her pubic hair. Nude in public, the sun touching every part of her. She felt a warmth in her sex, a warm chill running from her belly to her spine.

Kit looked her up and down. "You're more beautiful now than you were then."

"I'm more naked now."

Kit got up on her knees, resting her hands on the backs of Aimee's thighs, and then, deliberately, her eyes visible behind her sunglasses, she planted a soft kiss on Aimee's lips. Aimee shivered at the contact. It was so daring, so familiar, and yet so affectionate, she found herself melting inside.

Kit lay back on the towel, her body bared to the sun. Aimee settled next to her. The closeness was strange after what they'd shared, but she liked it.

"How long are you here for?" Kit asked.

"I leave on Sunday. What about you?"

A moment of hesitation. "Saturday night."

"Three days."

"Guess it's a good thing I made my move now, huh?"

"What are we going to do after--"

Kit shushed her. "There's no after. We have now, you and me. We're going to use the days we have well."

Aimee nodded. "Yeah. I can do that. Three days in another world." She leaned over, her lips meeting Kit's, throwing herself into this strange and wonderful vacation from reality. They stayed in the sun for a time, then, hand-in-hand, ran down to the water. As the Pacific washed over her body, and the sun turned the frothy water into ribbons of molten gold, she was new.

Aimee sat low in the passenger seat of Kit's car. After the day at Yarrow Point, clothes felt strange on her body. She already missed the beach, the little strip of sand she now thought of as belonging to her and Kit. She missed the freedom she'd found there. Looking over at her companion, now she imagined her slender body sheathed in nothing more bright water and rivulets of salt foam. Her eyes lingered at the place where Kit's cutoffs ended, the frayed hems brushing over the tops of her smooth thighs.

Kit dropped her off at home and Aimee paused only shortly for a kiss, but Kit didn't lean over. Aimee's heart gave her a slight kick, and she exchanged goodbyes and headed inside. She was pleasantly baked by the sun and her only regret that the day was over.

She ran a bath. Lowering herself into the fragrant and bubbly water, she felt the beach fall away from her, leaving her with the memories. Kit nude in the water, Kit watching her, Kit breaking her in half with that orgasm.

She felt her hand creeping down her body of its own accord. She had thought that her one time with Kit was it for the day. If any orgasm would satisfy it, it would surely been that one. With Martin, one time would be enough, whether she came or not. But Kit was like a drug, and her absence left Aimee wanting more. Like Brooke had done, eight years of pining for a single night. Now, though, there was no loss shackled to the memory. There was hope and freedom and light.

Her fingers came to rest on the patch of fleece between her legs. She thought of Kit's pussy as the bathing suit came down, revealing her slick folds. Brooke's had been shaved too. She'd remembered being fascinated as she went down on another woman for the first time, the smoothness of everything, the ability to truly explore. She missed it in herself.

The decision was made. She emerged from the tub, fetching her shaving lotion. Might as well give herself an all-over. She covered her legs, her pits, and most importantly, her sex. She passed the razor over her armpits first, the slight tickle awakening a trill along her spine. Her legs were next, the tremble joining the first. As she brushed the frothy lotion away with the safety razor, revealing her smooth olive skin, she felt herself truly awakening. A scent, her sweet musk, joining the miasma of lavender.

She had lovely legs. She'd caught Kit staring more than once. Not especially long, but shapely, with a pleasing softness in her thighs. They were a nice opening act to her ass. She'd always thought it was too big, but Martin was fascinated by it. He loved touching it, rubbing it. She longed for him to do more, but she hadn't had the courage to ask, and he had never shown any desires in that direction.

Her legs were done, and now she stared at the white froth between her legs, a few black hairs poking from it. She was about to pass the razor over her vulva when her phone buzzed. She jumped, like she had been caught at something. It buzzed again. Kit? She hoped it was Kit telling her she would come over. Another hit of that incredible high.

Aimee dried her hands, leaving the lather at the apex of her thighs, and looked at the phone. It was Martin. She tried not to be too disappointed.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey you." His voice was soft, tender. She heard the voice of the man she'd fallen for, but it didn't touch her core the way Kit had. "Having a good time?"

"I am. How's Emma doing?"

"Asking about you. I was gonna call tomorrow so she can talk to you."

"I miss her."

"She's asleep now. I was gonna put on a movie. What are you up to?"

Oh, nothing. Just shaving my pussy so a woman I used to babysit will eat me out, she thought. "Uh, nothing. I was just gonna take a bath."

"Oh yeah? Wish I were there."

"I'll be back before you know it."

Martin sighed. "I know. I love you."

"Love you too."

They ended the call and Aimee looked at herself. She had sensed what he'd wanted. Phone sex was in the offing, and though that wasn't what she wanted, it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world. But she felt wrong being with Martin. These days were for Kit.

She spread her legs, took a single shuddering breath, and drew the razor over her skin. The brush of the blades pulled a lovely shiver from her. Each pass brought a renewed pleasure with it. And when she was finished, she looked down at the modest cleft of flesh between her legs. It was beautiful.

She slid back into the warm water, and this time, when her hand played over her sex, the bare skin ignited her desire. She felt lovely and bad and raw and exquisite. And when her fingers played within her folds and toyed with her button, it was Kit's face she imagined hovering over hers, that smirk of ownership on her lips. Aimee came with a choked cry, sinking blissfully into the scented water.

She knew that when she saw Kit tomorrow, she was going to take it further. She had to.

Aimee spent the day at home. She luxuriated in the way her newly bare flesh felt against her panties. It was a delicious secret that was hers and hers alone. At least for the time being. She would reveal it later. She knew that for certain.

As the sun dipped low, she changed into a sundress and put a cardigan over that. She left as the sky was beginning to turn purple, walking the short distance down to the boardwalk. Kit waited on the corner of Fairview and Vista, wearing her cutoffs, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Aimee found herself trying not to stare at the other woman's long legs.

Kit hugged her, brushing a kiss over her cheek. Then, together, they made their way down toward the water. Their fingers interlaced in a gesture so natural Aimee didn't notice until it had already happened. Warmth bled out from the contact, and Aimee found herself leaning into Kit as they made their way to El Paseo, a popular Mexican restaurant with a balcony patio.

The two of them dined on margaritas and ceviche. Light and citrusy, Aimee left with a sway in her step and a tingle in her belly. Kit held her hands close. They made their way down to the sand, Kit angling her to the section of beach where the pier poked out over the water. The area beneath the pier was drenched in shadow. The waves sparked the memory inside Aimee, of her time with Kit. Their conversation had been light, had danced around what the two of them wanted, what they knew the evening promised. Now it was time to collect on that debt, and Aimee only wondered where she would surrender to Kit.

As they neared the underside of the pier, Kit pulled Aimee to a piling, pressing her against it and crushing her lips to Aimee's. Shadows enfolded them and not ten feet above, pedestrians ambled from the boardwalk out onto the pier. The susurrus of conversation spilled over the planks, mingling with the wash of the waves.

Kit's mouth was hungry that night, her tongue carrying the lingering bite of tequila. She felt like she was trying to keep Aimee from floating away. Aimee was lighter than air, the night wind ruffling her short dress around her thighs, warmth spreading from her pussy, kissing the air and going cold. Kit trapped her gloriously against the piling, keeping her earthbound for one more night.

Kit slipped her leg between Aimee's, forcing it up. Aimee obediently spread for Kit, her pussy now pressed against the big muscle of Kit's thigh. Kit's kiss was forceful, her tongue strong. Then she was at Aimee's neck, her lips putting sparks in Aimee's spine. Aimee rocked her hips against the thigh between her legs, the finding where the pressure needed to be, stoking the orgasm already boiling in her belly.

Aimee leaned back, opening her eyes. She looked along the boardwalk above. People walked under the dim streetlamps, lit by the neon lights of the bars and restaurants facing the water. The churning in her belly grew more insistent. Any one of them could stop, could see her fucking this woman, baring herself wantonly, humping Kit's bare thigh.

Kit dropped to her knees, shot her wide grin up at Aimee, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight. For a moment, she was like a predator, a shark finding its prey. And Aimee wanted to be prey. Wanted to be devoured from the inside.

Kit tore Aimee's panties from her body, pressing them to her nose. Her eyes met Aimee's as Kit drank the scent in. Aimee shivered in bliss at the sight of it. Kit stuffed the torn swatch of fabric in her pocket, then lifted Aimee's dress.

Aimee was bared to the world now. The ocean air kissed her sodden lips, lighting her body like a Christmas tree. The people on the boardwalk could see, if only they looked. They would see her being taken under the pier, surrendering to a younger woman.

Kit stared at the newly shaven sex, then up to Aimee's eyes. "You shaved. For me?"

Aimee nodded. "For you."

Kit ran her tongue up Aimee's thigh, and now Aimee saw that she had soaked her thighs, coating them in a film of her arousal. The tip of Kit's tongue laid down a trail of lightning, the tendrils joining the others that now spidered through her body. When Kit reached her pussy, Aimee could no longer hold back the ragged moan that had been clenched behind her teeth.

Aimee's thighs rested on either one of Kit's cheeks as she took Aimee. That was the only way to describe it. She was taking Aimee, making the other woman her own. She spread Aimee's glistening lips apart, her tongue easily finding Aimee's most sensitive places. Aimee was already on the edge, already built to a pitch. And now Kit was finishing her. Expertly, she was fucking Aimee with her hungry mouth.

Aimee spread her legs farther. She wished Kit could find a way to join with her, a way to erase the distinction between one and another, to join her in sex. The sight of the other woman between her legs was enough to send her over, but she held on. Barely. She watched Kit's mouth, clamped over Aimee's hairless mound, felt the busy tongue inside. Kit's pale blue eyes, luminous in the darkness, met Aimee's. It was Brooke all over again, for the first time.

Kit broke off, just for a moment, and Aimee felt a finger slide into her. Another moan tore its way out, louder this time. She thrust against the intrusion, desperate to get Kit deeper. The finger left, replaced by Kit's tongue. Kit's strong, inquisitive, wonderful tongue.

Then Aimee felt what she had barely allowed herself to crave.

Kit's finger at her anus.

The digit, slicked with Aimee's own juices, pressed against the rubbery ring. Aimee happily panicked, knowing that the instant she was taken that way she would lose it. The boiling sea in her belly would come free and it would draw all of her out in crashing waves of ecstasy. All control would vanish, and she would belong to Kit.

She wanted to loosen herself, to accept, no to demand Kit penetrate her, but she couldn't. She was clenched, unbidden, even as Kit's hungry mouth continued its relentless exploration.

Kit was set on her task. The finger, strong as steel but as gentle as the ocean breeze, slid into Aimee's ass. Aimee couldn't resist, speaking a broken "Fuck!" as the pleasure crashed out of her. Her body wracked with heaves as every nerve in her body burned at once.

Then Kit was standing, holding her, peppering her exhausted face in soft kisses. Aimee's mouth met hers, and she tasted herself, that wonderful musky taste all the more delicious for being on Kit's lips.

"Did you hear that?" A voice on the pier. "Sounded like a woman."

Aimee's eyes widened and met Kit's. Both women broke into giggles and fled under the pier, hand in hand, Aimee's legs wobbling. Emerging on the other side, they had a secret only the other shared.

Aimee leaned close. "I don't want the night to end." The wind brushed her skirt, threatening to show her pussy and ass to everyone on the boardwalk and beach. They would wonder, had they seen what they thought? Was she really bare? "I want to give you a turn."

"A turn?"

Aimee turned red, but met Kit's eyes. "I want to eat your pussy, Kit."

Kit grinned, her freckled cheeks going red. "Come on."

She pulled Aimee onto the boardwalk. Aimee's thighs were cold with her own drying juices. The wind continued its tease. Kit wasn't parked far. When they spilled into the car, this time their mouths met, Aimee's tongue running around the other woman's lips, finding her taste lingering on Kit.

Kit drove fast, away from the beach, into the hills. Where the big houses had a commanding view of the town below. Aimee always thought of it as absurdly large for Kit's family of three. She'd grown up sharing a room with her sister Dani, and the Morrison house felt empty. Late at night, when Kit would be asleep and Aimee was curled up on their couch watching TV, it could feel like the house itself was breathing.

"It looks the same," Aimee said.

"Ugh, I know. A monument to conspicuous consumption."

"I always thought it looked like a Hallmark card."

"Thinking of you," Kit said, taking her by the hand and guiding her through the side gate. A narrow path led around the house and into the back. A pool glowed sapphire under the starlight, but they went past it, to the cottage peeking from dense foliage. Aimee had remembered the little house. It had been so mysterious, referred to as "the office" by both of Kit's parents, but it looked to Aimee more like a place a gnome would live. Some magical creature whose day was spent making shoes and drinking hot cocoa.

"I've been staying back here. They turned my room into a home gym," Kit said.

"But your house is huge. Couldn't they have picked another room?"

"And that was my first argument when I came home."

Aimee shook her head. Made the conversion of hers and Dani's room seem not nearly as bad. Her parents didn't have this kind of space. How many things were problems and how many were merely bad comparisons? She shook that away. That had no place in this in-between world. This was a place made by and for she and Kit. This world was for tenderness, sensation, and the resolution of memory.

The living room of the cottage was indeed an office, complete with an overflowing desk in one corner. It also had a sofa and a television. Woven rugs covered a wooden floor. Kit kicked off her shoes, then dropped her hoodie then pulled her shirt up over her head. When she turned, Aimee's eyes went to Kit's breasts, so buoyant, so cute. Her nipples tented the silky white fabric of her bra. Kit grinned, and then the bra fell away, revealing all.

She stepped into the bedroom with a confident sway of her hips. Aimee followed, her cardigan joining Kit's clothes on the floor. As Kit turned, it was into Aimee's arms, into Aimee's kiss. Aimee felt as she had when she was fucked against the piling of the pier. The joy of being taken, the thrill of being discovered, the all-consuming need of her body played to perfection. She wanted to return as much of that feeling to Kit. Not only to repay but to share in that peerless joy.

Aimee gave Kit a playful shove and the other woman fell backward on the bed. Aimee followed, opening the button of Kit's cutoffs, sliding the shorts down her slender hips. Kit's scent bloomed into the air, a floral musk that made Aimee's insides roil. Her panties were next, soaked and clinging to her bare sex, rolled down Kit's long legs. Her slit was shiny with nectar, evidence that she needed this as much as Aimee.

Aimee crawled atop the nude woman. Kit's smile stretched ear to ear as she looked up at Aimee. "I'm all yours," she said.

Aimee had to kiss her. "All mine."

She began a journey over Kit's body, stopping first at those lovely breasts. Aimee hadn't been able to get them out of her mind since their time together at Yarrow Point. Smaller than hers, perkier, the skin pale, the nipples a soft rosy pink. She run a thumb over them, watching the cherry flesh harden, the pebbling spring over her areola. She leaned down, taking the nipple in her mouth, washing the elastic nubbin.

Aimee stayed there forever, licking, nibbling, teasing. She felt soft hands on her head, pushing down. Aimee looked up, a nipple at her lip, flashing a smile. Smoky desire flowed through Kit's icy blue eyes. A wave went through Kit's body, an undulation running down her entire form, down to her hips.

Aimee took the hint, brushing teeth and tongue over Kit's taut abdomen. The aroma enveloped her now, that musk enfolding her like the flowers at Yarrow Point. It permeated her senses, penetrated her mind, washing over her in that wonderful memory. She got to her knees at the foot of the bed, supplicant before Kit's sex.

She wanted to tease, wanted not to be too eager, but she was. She hadn't tasted a pussy since that wonderful night with Brooke. Eight years gone now, eight years without that flavor on her tongue, eight years of pushing it from her mind, pretending her body didn't ache for it. She tasted Kit, from bottom to top, relishing the gasp from the other woman, and savoring the electrifying taste.

Aimee held Kit to her. She would try every bit, find all of the secret special places in the other woman's sex. There was something to a cock, but its appeal was obvious. Gauche in its way. There was no mystery to it, no enigmas to unravel. Not like a pussy. An instrument to be played, a meal to be savored.

She knew she was doing well when Kit's fingers tangled in her hair. The other woman was nearly bent double, one hand at her breast, rolling a nipple between her fingers, the other keeping Aimee's attentions on her.

Aimee obeyed, never letting up the pressure. Then, all at once, a rush of flavor into her mouth, a clench of fingers in her hair. Kit let out a cry, falling back on the bed, the undulations slowing, the pull becoming a push. Aimee stood up, wiping a hand over her mouth, but not doing more than smearing Kit's juices over her lips.

"Come here," Kit said breathlessly.

Aimee lay on the bed next to Kit, hauling the other woman, gone boneless from her orgasm, up to the pillows. Kit was nude, Aimee still in her sundress, the fabric now clinging to Aimee's softer curves. Kit kissed Aimee's mouth.

"Fuck, I've been imagining that for years," she said.

"Imagine no more."

Kit's eyes sparked. "Up for more?"

Aimee nodded eagerly. She had never been like this before, but she couldn't stop herself. She put her hands on the hem of her dress, ready to pull it off.

"Leave it on," Kit said.

Aimee shivered, nodded again. There was something to this, to be dressed and yet not. Especially when Kit was there without a single stitch obscuring her lissome form.

Kit stood. The light in the room was diffuse, moonlight poking tentative fingers through the windows. Kit was partial silhouette, pale light playing over a slender body wreathed in sweat. The scent of their arousal hung heavy in the room. Kit moved to the closed, where her suitcase sat on a luggage stand.

"I brought this just in case," she said. "Better to have it and not need it."

Aimee frowned, wondering what the hell the other woman could be talking about. She heard rustling, and Kit was moving about. Then she stepped out, into the dark of the room. Kit's figure, always a bit androgynous, now had erased the distinction between one and another. A cock jutted from her hips, and she was working it lazily, her hand running up and down the shaft. Kit then set down the tube of lubricant on the night table next to her. Aimee now saw the straps going over Kit's hips, securing the device to her groin. The dildo was greasy with lube, menacing and wonderful in its promise.

"Oh my god," Aimee sighed.

"You can still call me Kit," said the other woman with that cocky grin that reduced Aimee's insides to liquid. Kit crawled onto the bed, coming up between Aimee's legs. She paused, kissing Aimee's thighs, then her cleavage, and finally her mouth. Aimee felt the plastic head of the dildo between her legs. Her breath was short, her heart thundering. This was something else, this was next level.

This was going to happen.

"I couldn't help noticing," Kit murmured between kisses. "You liked my finger in your ass."

Aimee nodded, her cheeks hot. "Very much." Her heart beat faster. She knew where this was going. This was the rollercoaster tick-tick-ticking right before the drop.

"I'm going to fuck your ass," Kit said.

Aimee sucked in a breath, her mouth reaching for Kit's, a stronger yes than any word could possibly be. This would be giving herself utterly, filling herself with Kit. The last barrier utterly shattered. She found she needed it more than she had ever needed anything.

Then, her eyes on Kit's, she disengaged, turning over, only breaking eye contact at the last possible moment. She presented herself on all fours, sticking her ass in the air. She was helpless now, and she had never felt so light, so airy, in all of her life.

She felt Kit behind her, stroking her skin, the caresses ranging ever closer to her center. The swirling touch felt like sunlight on water. When a finger brushed over her anus, she gasped at the jolt. It wasn't just the sensitive flesh, but the knowledge of what was to come. Anticipation, fear, desire, all swirled together in a feeling that Aimee drank like wine.

Hot breath washed over her most intimate places. She braced herself. Then, something soft and wet moved over her anus, tickling around the border of her. A tongue. It was pressing against her, demanding entry. The trail the finger had blazed before. Aimee shut her eyes, surrendering to the decadent pleasure. A moment of relaxation, and the tongue was inside her, soft as velvet.

Kit was busy, never concentrating in one place for long. Aimee put her head down, presenting her ass, sighing as Kit continued to eat. And then, just like that, the mouth was gone. Aimee whimpered in disappointment. The next whimper she made was nervous, as she felt the hard and slick tip of the dildo at her rosebud.

"Aimee," Kit said, her voice rusty.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Ask."

"Fuck me, Kit."

"More."

"Fuck my ass. Make me yours."

Kit gripped Aimee's hips, pulling her back. At the same time, the pressure against the rubbery ring intensified, the dildo pushing into her anus. Now, tight again, but Kit would not be denied. Aimee felt a sudden loosening, a bolt of electric sensation as the false cock entered her. She cursed, her eyes shut tightly, her fists balled in the covers.

Pain, yes, her ass full in a way it had never before been. She was stuck, impaled in this beautiful way, unable to move forward or backward. The pain sparked over her, and at the edges, a fluttering of exquisite pleasure.

Her knuckles went white as Kit pushed another inch into her. In her memory the dildo grew in size. At first it had seemed modest, barely bigger than Martin. Now it felt monstrous, bigger than she could ever accept in her body. And yet she needed it inside. Needed to take every bit of it, to feel every inch of this mingled agony and bliss.

She heard murmuring, and she realized it was her. Curses, prayers, Kit's name, one after another, growing less and less intelligible as the fake cock sank into her body. She gasped, let out a sob, then found herself pushing back against Kit.

Then, after a hundred years, she felt Kit's thighs against hers, the harness around her anus. She had done it, taken every last inch. Kit was buried in her to the hilt. Aimee felt like she was going to burst. Explode for a moment of white hot pain unlike anything she had ever felt, and then the showering butterfly kisses of pleasure. Every place around the intrusion burned, throwing filaments through her body. She was on fire, and she wanted to burn. Needed it.

The dildo left her, leaving an ache behind it. An ache both of relief and of horrifying absence. Before she could miss it, It pushed into her again, igniting everything all over again. As it hit the end of her, a grunt was forced from her throat, broken and animalistic.

Another thrust. And another. Each one with that incredible cycle. Relief to need to pain to ecstasy. She felt like she was being transformed. Kit's fucking turning Aimee into a mass of raw sensation, a mewling creature of pure need. The fire ran up Aimee's back, down her limbs, into her pussy, through her womb, her belly, her heart, her head. She was alive with Kit's sex.

Aimee's body began to shake. She was coming apart, Kit splitting her into strips of delight. She shuddered, heaved, her cries louder, her fists now rocks against the blankets. Every part of her was shaking, joining, rebounding. Where the sensation went, the fire followed, burning her with its wonderful, transformative flames. Neither pleasure nor pain but both, powerful and all-consuming. She uttered one long, keening wail as it consumed her.

She was still, her mind far away, shivering from top to bottom. She barely registered what came next, of Kit cuddling up to her, the dildo gone, covers thrown over both of them. Her anus throbbed, each bolt of hurt followed by a delicious shiver.

"Fuck," was the first coherent word she managed.

"I've never seen anyone cum like that before," Kit murmured, kissing her neck.

"I've never cum like that." They were silent. Aimee realized she was still dressed, but her limbs were rubber. She couldn't have moved if she tried.

Kit brushed her hair away. "I've been wanting to be with you for so long...it feels like a dream."

"I think it is, a little bit," Aimee said.

"I like that," Kit said. "What would you say if I called you from time to time? To dream with me?"

"I would say yes." Aimee wasn't sure of many things in that moment. Didn't know what this meant for her marriage, for her life. For her identity. But she knew that what just happened must happen again. She couldn't exist in a world where that kind of feeling was possible and not experience it.

"I lied before," Kit said.

Aimee turned her head, unable to move more than that. "What?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Fuck."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think...I didn't think that this would be...this."

"I'm glad you had fun," Aimee said. "I was feeling a little selfish."

Kit giggled. "Not how I'd describe bottoming like a champ but okay."

Aimee willed herself to look over her shoulder. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she had to look into Kit's gorgeous ice blue eyes. "I want you to know something, Kit. I've been wrestling with this part of me for a long time. Not letting myself want this. But that's over. What you did to me...for me...I'm changed."

Kit kissed her nose. "All I wanted in this world was to have sex with my first crush and now she's telling me I fucked her into a butterfly."

Aimee gave a happy chuckle. "Can you hold me? Until morning?"

"I would love to."

Aimee fell into a warm sleep, and when she awoke, her head was on Kit's chest, the other woman's arm around her.

The reunion was a dream. She talked to people she hadn't thought about in ten years and spent most of her time with Shannon and Kayla. They sensed something was up, but other than a few looks, they didn't pry. They all resolved to stay in touch and Aimee meant it. The past wasn't something to be run from. Meaning and wonder were there, but not in the wallowing. It was in the resolving, in the changing, in the growing.

She returned to her life. She was happy to see Martin and Emma, kissing the both of them, and grateful to be back in her bed. A month went by, and every day, she thought of not just Kit, but of the way Kit had made her feel. Of what she was leaving behind.

She was home one afternoon, as spring was cooking into summer. She picked up her phone and stared at it. The number hadn't been hard to find. These things never were. Not when a woman was determined to find them.

She dialed it, her heart thundering. Her pussy grew hot, ghostly throbs worked through her anus. She'd kept up her grooming, a little secret for herself. Martin had yet to discover it. Part of the problem, that.

"Hello?" asked a familiar voice.

"Hey, Brooke? It's Aimee. Aimee Soto. I was wondering how you were doing."