"Miss Delain," I said, shaking her hand. Her grip was professional, her hands cool to the touch.

"The kids call me Miss Chloë," she said. Her voice was a pretty alto, strong, but with a hint of girlish rust about the edges. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Kendrick."

"Owen's fine," I said.

She smiled, a winsome expression on her. I hadn't known what to expect, but Miss Chloë hadn't been it. For some reason, I'd pictured an older woman, not this pretty woman in her mid to late 20s.

"First off, Haley's doing great. Wanted to get that out of the way. She's smart, she's never a problem, always helps with clean-up...I wish all the kids were like her."

"That's always something a father wants to hear," I said, although it was my first real one of these. The room was bright and happy, with a checkerboard rug in all the colors of the rainbow, and the walls hung with pictures of animals, letters, and various finished projects all drawn in a kindergartener's uncertain hand.

Miss Chloë tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. She had a lot of hair, chestnut waves tumbling past her shoulders. Straight bangs framed her face. Once again I was struck by how pretty she was. A pretty that sneaked up on you, only grew more interesting the more you looked.

She bit her lip. Her lipstick was a brighter red than was in fashion, a throwback to the '40s or '50s. Vintage. "There is one thing I wanted to ask. Haley's mother..."

"Passed on," I said automatically.

"I'm so sorry."

"It was four years ago. Haley doesn't remember her."

"That was what I wanted to ask you. Everyone was drawing their families, and, well..."

She produced a piece of paper from a folder. In the clear crayon lines that I knew were my daughter's, I saw what was a reasonable depiction of the characters from Wizard of Oz.

"Oh yeah." How to explain this? "I didn't know how to explain death to her. She figured out something was up in preschool."

"She's very smart."

"Got that from her mom."

Miss Chloë smiled, concern in her big blue eyes. They were behind a pair of chunky hipster glasses, and were big enough to belong to a Disney princess. "Go on."

"Well, Jenn always loved that movie. She got Haley a storybook version of it, illustrated, for kids. I read it to her every night to get her to sleep. When she asked, I panicked and told her Jenn was in Oz. I should have been preparing for that conversation, but I wasn't. Later on, I explained death and I guess the wires got crossed a little, and now she might think Oz is where we go when we die." I ran an awkward hand through my own hair. "I know. Not exactly World's Greatest Dad."

"Don't be hard on yourself. Coping is different for everyone, and she doesn't have any signs of trauma. Maybe this isn't gonna fly with her religious classmates, but it hasn't come up."

"I'll explain when she's older."

"Or she could have a fun surprise if she ever ends up in a church." Her eyes got big. Well, bigger, anyway. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Kendrick. I didn't mean to make light."

"You didn't," I said. "I realize it's a ridiculous situation, but that's what parenthood is."

"Can I ask something else? Do you work?"

"I'm a cinematographer," I said. Still felt strange to say, what with only two movies under my belt. Like it could be taken away. It was real enough to get me and Haley into a nice house in the hills.

"That's amazing! What do you do for childcare?"

"I hire someone. She's been with us for three years now. College student. She's majoring in child development, so I figure she's qualified."

"That's good to hear." She stood up. Her outfit was adorable, a form-fitting blouse with a cardigan over it, a high-waisted skirt, and dark tights. Her shoes were a pair of mary janes that I bet were authentic vintage. She had that look to her. Authentic vintage. "That's everything. Once again, I couldn't be happier to have Haley in my class."

I got up, taking Miss Chloë's hand again. She gave me that same forthright handshake with the same cold fingers. "Thank you," I said. "Haley has nothing but good things to say about you."

"We're mutual fans."

When I got home, Laura was playing with Haley in the living room. Laura Sanchez was going into her senior year of college at UCLA. She was pretty in a tough kind of way. One thing I admired about her was that she was surly as hell to everyone but kids. With anyone under 13, she had boundless patience. Haley loved her. Hell, so did I. She was the niece I never had.

"Daddy!" I got the big hug, the best gift a father ever could.

"I was gonna order Chinese," I said.

"Really?" Haley gasped. The way to Haley's heart was orange chicken.

"Miss Chloë had nothing but good things to say, and the way I figure it, good girls get as much orange chicken as they want. Laura, do you want to hang out? I'll get enough for everyone."

"It's cool," she said. "I gotta get back to campus. Big test in the morning." She gathered up her things.

"Need a ride?"

"I brought my bike. It's all good." She dropped to one knee and held out her arms. "C'mere, Squirt."

Haley ran into her embrace. Laura held her, with no more love than if she was her natural born. They looked nothing alike. Haley had the strawberry blonde hair and Welsh complexion from me, while Laura's skin was olive edging to brown, and her hair was long and black. She planted a kiss on Haley's cheek and was out the door.

Within the hour, Haley and I were enjoying our feast, then it was time to read her the Wizard of Oz book. As she always did, she traced the drawing of the Emerald City with her fingers. I knew she was thinking of the mother she didn't really remember, that she only knew by the picture on the wall outside the kitchen. The one of Jenn, young and radiant, holding chubby little Haley. Jenn's smile was bright and wide for a future she'd never see.

Haley conked out at the end of the book. I went into the living room and watched TV with my headphones. While I was trying to concentrate on dragons and beautiful women, I couldn't stop thinking about Miss Chloë. The confident pressure of her hand and the depthless blue of her eyes. I'd been attracted to women before, but I'd always told myself it was too soon. Maybe it wasn't.

After the meeting with Miss Chloë, I got a job shooting an interesting flick for a director I vaguely knew, Jason Palmieri, who liked my work on my last show. The story, by a first time screenwriter, was this kind of gritty urban dark fantasy thing. They shot it downtown and along the river. I threw myself into it, trying to get the look right, to make the fantastical stuff look like part of reality, and the realistic stuff fantastic.

The lead was incredible. I'd seen Anna Call in the movie that put her on the map, a kind of generic potboiler that, while undeniably silly, she'd absolutely killed in. That had come out a year ago, and she had another movie under her belt where she'd proven that performance was no fluke. Anyone watching the dailies for this could see her talent. She had It.

She was gorgeous, a petite redhead with a body like a pinup model and a face that made you want to sack Troy. I approached her beauty like a special effect of its own. Something for the audience to wonder over. This movie would be the city's love letter to her.

I got so wrapped up in the shoot, I'd stopped thinking about Miss Chloë as anything other than my kid's teacher. Haley loved her, and that made me happy. Knowing the kid was taken care of at school was enough for me.

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving when I took Haley to an arcade downtown. It was one of those throwback places, a hipster hangout where everyone could recapture their youth by playing the old cabinets from the '80s and '90s. I'd introduced Haley to that stuff, and my first gift to myself after my first movie was a vintage Centipede machine that stood in my living room. Haley preferred watching to playing, picking the game and cheering me on.

Haley and I ate chicken fingers and fries, drank way too much Dr Pepper, and we made our way from game to game according to her whim. High scores bought tickets, and she had her eye on a stuffed Dragonite at the prize kiosk. As the responsible father I was, I was absolutely determined that she'd go home with that thing.

I was acquitting myself well enough at Galaga, and thinking that if I was gonna be serious I should head over to the Centipede machine. Haley, sitting on a stool next to me and sipping at her soda said, "Hi, Miss Chloë!"

My concentration broken, I zigged when I should have zagged and ate a butterfly alien to the face. My ship vanished in a throaty explosion. I started to turn ready to apologize to whoever she'd mistaken for her teacher. "Honey, you can't call every pretty lady with glasses..." I finished the turn and found Miss Chloë standing not five feet away. She was dressed a bit more casually, in shorts and tights, with a Muppets t-shirt under a light jacket. Her expression was halfway between awkward and amused.

"Hi, Haley!" she said. "Mr. Kendrick."

"It's Owen. I'm sorry, I just assumed that Haley was making a mistake."

"You shouldn't assume that, Daddy," Haley said gravely. "I see really good."

I had to laugh, kissing my daughter's forehead. "I'll never doubt you again, Pumpkin." I looked to the kindergarten teacher, once again reminded just how attractive she was. Even dressed down. Hell, especially dressed down. "What are you doing here?"

She gestured down in the direction of the restaurant area. "It's my friend's birthday. I saw you two over here and I kept wondering if I should go over, and then I thought it was weirder if I didn't, and it was only getting weirder..."

An explosion pulled my attention back to the screen. Game Over. I'd been so distracted by Miss Chloë that I'd let Earth fall to the aliens.

"Oh, Daddy," Haley scolded, shaking her head. She looked up at her teacher. "What's your favorite game, Miss Chloë?"

"You're playing it," she said.

"Then be my guest," I said, stepping aside.

"You sure? I'm pretty good. I might be here awhile."

"Take me to school."

"You asked for it." She popped a token into the cabinet and took the controls like a gunfighter. The alien ships fell from the top of the screen and with ruthless efficiency, Miss Chloë chewed them up with streams of fire. With Galaga, the first couple stages are easy, but the game accelerates with each one. After a point, it becomes unplayable with the alien ships whirring around the screen like hyperactive bees, their projectiles impossible to dodge.

Or so I thought. Miss Chloë either had Ender's Game-level alien killing reflexes or she knew the machine's patters so well it didn't matter. She plowed through stage after stage, racking up bonuses and extra lives. Haley clapped and cheered. I stopped looking at the game entirely, turning my attention to Miss Chloë's face.

She was locked in concentration, her lips a thin line. Her big blue eyes twitched as she followed threats around the screen. Her glasses were lit up, and I knew if I could see her head on, they would be reflections of the game's screen. In that moment, I felt like a kid again, in an arcade with my crush, watching her utterly annihilate a high score.

Nothing lasted forever, and she finally lost her last life. The high score board game up, asking for her initials in the number 4 spot. I watched her put them in.

"CAD?" I asked.

"Chloë Allison Delain," she said, finishing up. That's when I saw that 7 of the 10 initials on the high score board were hers.

"You weren't kidding."

"I need to clear those other names off," she said with a grin. The machine spat out a roll of tickets, which she collected. "Okay, Haley, let's go get you something with these."

"There's a Dragonite over there..."

"Then let's get you a Dragonite."

"You don't have to," I said to Chloë. "Those are your tickets. Once I hit the Centipede machine, that Dragonite is as good as hers."

"I want to. Besides, I'm a Charmander girl." She winked and I knew what it felt like to have my heart melt.

Chloë exchanged the tickets for the stuffie and handed it to a squealing Haley who wrapped her teacher in a hug. "Thank you, thank you Miss Chloë!"

"It was my pleasure. You're gonna have to pick something else out for your Dad to win you."

Haley nodded solemnly and started intently browsing. "Seriously, thank you," I said.

"It's my pleasure."

"Can I buy you something to eat at least? I understand the corn dogs are good here. Imported all the way from France."

She looked over at a table of who I assumed her friends were. They were all around five years younger than me, like she was, a gaggle of men and women, cool in a way that would have intimidated me once upon a time. A few looked in our direction and went back to eating. One, a good-looking and skinny guy who looked like he hit the open mics in the area, beckoned her over.

"Unless you have to get back to your friends."

"But then I'd miss out on a French corn dog." She waved him off.

I took her to the counter and ordered a couple corn dogs and drinks. Haley conned me into some candy corn, and I realized then getting her to sleep was going to be next to impossible. It was worth it for the smile on her face and the excited chatter about her new toy.

"So where are you from?" I asked.

"Portland."

"What brought you down here?"

"I was going to be on American Idol."

"Seriously?"

"No. I just wanted a change. What about you?"

"I'm from a little beach down up the coast. I moved down here to do movies."

"The normal reason to come to this town."

We kept chatting, and it was easy. We slid into conversation like we had been doing it for years. A simple ease that made me long for more. The three of us in this place, together, it felt right in a way I couldn't put my finger on. I felt a momentary stab of guilt. Jenn, watching from Oz, but that was hard to feel with Chloë's blue eyes on me.

"Daddy," Haley said. "It's time for Centipede."

"Right, Pumpkin."

Miss Chloë looked over at her friends. "I should probably get back," she said.

Haley was leading the way down the aisle to claim the machine. "Yeah." The thought of doing nothing felt bleak. I needed this feeling again. Needed to be with her in some way. "Hey, would it be weird if I asked for your number?"

"To talk about Haley's progress? Yeah, that's not really done."

"I was thinking more to ask you on a date? Is that okay?"

"Oh!" Her eyebrows went up, and by the look on her face, she hadn't even thought of it. "That would be great."

I handed her my unlocked phone and she put her number in. "Thanks, Miss Chloë."

"If you're going to ask me out, how about just Chloë?"

"You're right. The Miss thing would be weird."

I texted Chloë as the shoot ended that January. The wrap party was coming up and that seemed like a fun thing to take a date to. Impress her a little while showing her a good time. I stood in the kitchen, staring at my phone, trying to come up with the perfect message that would somehow impress her into a date.

Hey, Chloë, it's Owen. I was wondering if you were free Saturday night?

As soon as the text was away, I thought of a half-dozen ways to rephrase it, make it more appealing. Then I saw the three dots. She was writing back.

Who?

My heart sank. Hadn't made the impression I was hoping for. Owen Kendrick. Haley's dad.

Messing with you. What's Saturday?

I wished I could see her, or even just hear the tone of her voice. Text was impossible to read into. Of course, that was the whole point. Wrap party for the movie. Kind of a fancy cocktail party. Maybe some dancing.

Should I do an accent? A pause, then another message. That would be funny if you heard me.

I'm laughing.

What should I wear? What are you wearing?

Formal, not black tie.

Got it.

This is a yes?

She gave me the emoji of the face sticking its tongue out. This is a yes.

Pick you up at 7

See you then. She sent me her address.

My heart leapt. Laura walked in, her usual saturnine expression lightened. "What happened to you?"

"I've got a date on Saturday."

"Good. So I'm staying late."

"Shit. Sorry, yes. Is that okay?"

She broke into a smile. "Yes, it's okay. I could use the cash and god knows you could use the date."

"That bad, huh?"

She shrugged. "Just be nice for you to move on a little bit."

"I don't think I'm moving on--"

"Not what I meant. Don't overthink it. Have your date. If you need me to stay the night, text by midnight. Fair?"

"Fair. Thanks Laura."

"You're lucky I love Haley."

I drifted out of the kitchen. I couldn't escape what Laura had said. My heart was light with the possibility of a date with Chloë, but those words were an anchor, dragging me back to Earth. Moving on. I paused on the wall of our dining area, where the wall was decorated with photos of me and Jenn. My gaze lingered on my favorite, Jenn holding baby Haley and smiling with all the brightness of the sun.

Four years now. I could still hear her voice. Sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night I was sure I would roll over and she would be there. This had been a dream. Then I would reach and her side of the bed was empty and cold. Even the idea that she had a side of the bed was silly. She'd never slept in this bed, never set foot in this house. All of this came from the success I had in the wake of her death. She'd never known this place. The life I led with Haley would be unrecognizable to her.

I was being ridiculous. I hardly knew Chloë. We'd had a parent teacher conference and a good time at an arcade one time. This could be nothing at all. A fun evening with someone who was important to Haley. No greater significance.

I was on pins and needles until Saturday. I took Haley to the zoo in the morning to help pass the time, and she ran from enclosure to enclosure with her usual enthusiasm. We watched the lions for a good hour, a male and a female who napped extravagantly in the winter sun.

In the afternoon, we got into the car and I took us home, navigating carefully through the Hollywood Hills.

"You're hanging with Laura tonight," I said. "I'll be home after you fall asleep, so don't try to stay up, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy." I felt her looking at me from the back seat. In the rearview mirror, her little face was a mask of concentration. In that moment she was the spitting image of Jenn. "You look like you're going to a birthday party."

"I do?"

"You look like you're gonna unwrap presents. Are there presents?"

"No, it's a work party. The only present is maybe a crew jacket. Actually, considering the budget, maybe a mug."

"I hope it's a good mug," she decided.

"Thanks, Pumpkin."

I got her home and into the tub while I changed. It was a Mad Men kind of suit that I was hoping Chloë would like. Laura arrived a short time later and was helping Haley from the tub when I came in fully outfitted.

"Not bad," Laura said.

"Looking good, Daddy!"

I kissed the kid goodbye and drove down the hill. Chloë lived east of me, in an apartment building in the maze of streets near Hollywood, where everything was a turn away from both undeveloped wild areas and choked urban streets. Her complex's Spanish-style architecture had been in vogue in the early days when Los Angeles went from flyspeck to boomtown. I took an exterior staircase to find her apartment. Lucky 13. I knocked and instantly wondered if I should have brought flowers. I was convinced I should when the door opened.

Chloë was always pretty. The adjective "adorable" had made a home in my mind for her without meaning to. Tonight, though, she was beautiful.

Her masses of brown waves were corralled into an elegant ponytail. Her dress was cream-colored and belted with gold, hugging her slender figure. Her makeup was heavier, her lipstick cherry red, her eyeshadow heavy, drawing attention to her incredible eyes. She could have stepped out of a time warp, a ghost of Old Hollywood in modern times.

"You look great!" she said.

I had been staring. "Sorry, Chloë, you look..." I tried to come up with an adjective that would accurately describe her and lost track, dismissing each one as insufficient.

"Beautiful?"

"Beautiful, amazing, incredible..." I watched her start to shrivel. "I'll stop."

"That's good. Too many compliments. I'm glad you like the outfit." She locked her door and followed me out to my car. I took us south into Downtown.

"Like is not a strong enough word."

"You're a cautious driver," she observed, I think just to change the subject from my adoration.

"Yeah, sorry about that. After what happened to Jenn..."

"Oh shit. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I know I drive like a grandma."

"You've got a good reason for it." We fell into silence and I scolded myself for messing things up. She broke the silence. "What is a wrap party anyway?"

"At the end of a shoot, either a movie or a season of TV, they throw a party for the cast and crew."

"Oh, as in 'that's a wrap.'"

"Yep. With the long hours and the high emotions, you kind of become a family on a shoot like this. You need a sendoff to put an exclamation point on the whole thing."

"You don't work with each other again?"

"Oh, all the time. Any excuse for a party."

The party was up on the roof of a loft Downtown. I parked in a pay lot and went around t to the lobby where a security guard waved us to an elevator. We rode it up and emerged out on the rooftop under the perpetually twilight sky of Los Angeles at night. The whole place was done up with strings of golden light. High tables and chairs were scattered about, and a bar was at one end of the roof. A few uniformed servers circulated with trays of appetizers. I recognized the cast and crew, now dolled up, everyone with a plus one.

I went over to the bar and ordered an old fashioned. Chloë asked for a rosé. The bartender mixed and poured, and I stuffed a $20 into his tip cup. Yes, I was trying to impress my date. I checked her out of the corner of my eye. She was taking things in. A real Hollywood party. Sure, a small one on a modestly-budgeted movie, but a real one.

"Owen?" The voice came behind me. I turned.

Anna Call was looking radiant, as though she could look any other way. She wore a blue dress, that was fairly draped over her curves, her red hair up. She was so beautiful she could be hard to look at, perfection that didn't really belong on the mortal plane. Truth be told, I loved photographing her. She was made for the screen.

"Anna, good to see you."

She hugged me. "This is the guy who's makin' me look good," she said in her Kentucky drawl. She tamped down on it when we were filming, but as soon as the cameras cut, it came out thicker than honey in December.

I turned to take the hand of her date and that's when I realized she was a woman. An athletically built woman a few inches taller than Anna, her features were partway between Caucasian and Asian, with dark, almond-shaped eyes and short hair died a brilliant blue. She was in a tux, the top opened up to show some cleavage. She had to be an actress. Anyone that beautiful belonged in front of a camera.

"Owen Kendrick," I said. "And Anna made Anna look good."

"Natalie Cho," she said, taking my hand, "and I know."

"Is this your wife? Hi, I'm Anna." Anna reached over to Chloë.

"Chloë. And no. This is a date. A first date."

"Oh, he's tryin' to impress you. You impressed?"

"A little."

"Owen's a sweetie. Are you in the business?"

"I teach kindergarten."

"Oh, a real job," Anna said with a grin. "I gotta go mingle. Don't you be a stranger and it was real nice to meet you, Chloë. You treat her right, Kendrick." She hugged me and I shook her date's hand again.

"She's gorgeous," Chloë said.

"I had no idea she was gay."

"Disappointed?"

"I don't date actresses."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I only date teachers."

"Kindergarten teachers? Lucky me."

"No, shop teachers. I like a man missing a few fingers."

Chloë laughed and leaned into me. "Glad you made an exception."

Impulsively, I put an arm around her, setting my hand on her waist. Her hand covered it, and I held her. I inhaled her perfume, a subtle, floral scent at the edge of awareness. We took in the night together.

I introduced Chloë to everyone. We made a meal of the appetizers and drank free booze. I cut myself off after the initial drink, switching over to soda water and lime. Looked like a cocktail, but made sure I'd be driving nice and sober. I got my crew gift, and it was in fact a perfectly good mug. At around 11, we slipped out, and I took her to an all-night diner in Hollywood.

"Okay, that was a little impressive," she said. She'd been through at least three glasses of rosé, and her words were slower than usual. "What are we doing here?"

"Ice cream," I said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I ordered a peanut butter shake and she had a banana split. "Is this your usual move? Get a girl tipsy and fill her up with dairy?" she asked, twirling her spoon through the ice cream and chocolate syrup.

"I don't have a usual move. I don't date much."

"Okay," she said, with an exaggerated wink. "Bet it's hard for handsome Hollywood big shots." My cheeks went hot, and I reached across the table. She took my hand in hers.

I drove her home and walked her to her door. "I had a really good time," I said.

She opened the door, and for the first time I looked into her apartment. When I picked her up, I'd been too distracted by her to actually see anything. I caught a glimpse of an apartment furnished in the same vintage style as her whole look. Framed Muppets records hung on the wall behind the sofa. It had her effortless style that still managed to feel welcoming and homey.

She turned, leaning heavily on the jamb. "I had a good time too."

"You wouldn't mind me calling again?"

"Yep. Nope. You phrased that weird."

"Do you want to go out with me again?"

"Yes." She stood up straight, and after a moment of consideration, got on her toes and brushed a kiss over my lips. I tasted the remnant of chocolate syrup on her tongue. "Don't wait so long to text me this time, okay?"

She disappeared into her apartment, and I returned home, thinking of nothing else but her. I texted her the next day.

Chloë and I continued to date. Dinners, movies, walks on the beach. The more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. We had yet to move beyond kissing. One makeout session, but she called a halt on anything more than that. I felt a barrier between us, one that I was growing increasingly intent on bringing down.

Other than that, she was perfect. Fun, smart, gorgeous. She was the kind of woman that I didn't meet in my line, and that alone would have been enough. All the rest was gravy. And the most important concern for any dad was that she loved Haley. Which she did, a feeling that was returned.

Of course, the more perfect she became in my estimation, the harder it become to pass the photos of Jenn outside the kitchen. She'd died so suddenly, we'd never had those big conversations. What would we do without the other? She was with me one day and gone the next, leaving me with a baby who couldn't yet walk. Would she like Chloë? Or would she hate her? Would she want me to be alone? Or would she want me to hold her in my heart and make room for someone else?

All of these things were going through my head as I brought Chloë back to her apartment after dinner one night. She leaned up to kiss me, then parted, her eyes searching mine. "Are you okay? You're a million miles away."

"I'm good, I'm sorry. You free on Saturday?"

"Uh huh." She looked at me, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "I'm free right now if you want to come in."

"Seriously?"

She blushed. "Yeah. I mean, isn't it supposed to be like the third date?"

"This is like the tenth date."

"Thirteenth. Not that I'm counting. I just move a little slow."

"Slow's fine. I was starting to think you weren't moving at all."

She brought me inside. I'd only been into her apartment a few times, and never into the back. Her living room was bright and inviting. A sofa and several chairs crowded around a small TV. Everything was draped in quilts and doilies. An overstuffed bookcase was decorated with antique toys. I looked over the framed Muppet albums framed on the wall over the couch. A Kermit the Frog sat on her sofa as though he were inviting me in. So, you're here to take my Chloë to the prom, he'd say in his Kermit voice.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked.

Her living room opened up into a breakfast nook, the table covered in papers, a doorway into a kitchen next to it. The other side had a doorway leading into a darkened hall, where I assumed her bedroom was. As my heart moved quicker and a charge ran over my skin, I was coming to believe I was going to see that bedroom.

"Yeah, just some water?" I sat down next to Kermit while she disappeared into the kitchen. "Any tips?" I asked the frog, but he didn't have anything to add.

She came back in with two tumblers of ice water, handing me one. She was trembling. Nerves, I thought. Same as mine.

"You really like the Muppets, huh?"

She blushed. "Yeah, it's a little weird."

"Not at all. Makes you easy to shop for."

We were silent.

"This is super awkward," she said.

"I'm sorry, I lost whatever moves I might have had."

"You...you want to go into the bedroom?"

"A lot."

"Okay," she said, going into the hall. I followed, vibrating. The hall was short, barely enough room for the two of us. One end was the bathroom, the other the bedroom. Her bed was covered in a real quilt that I was certain she'd have a story about. She lit a pair of candles by each side of the bed, then turned out the lights, plunging us into a flickering twilight. She went to her dresser and pulled out a swatch of material.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom and get changed, okay?"

"Sounds good." Despite the water, my throat was dry. I wondered if I should get undressed. Maybe that was presumptuous. I took off my shoes and sat down on the bed.

When she came back into the room, I realized that I had been overcautious.

She wore a diaphanous teal babydoll nightgown and a matching ribbon tied around her throat. The fabric did nothing to hide her body, giving it only a gauzy halo. She posed at the door, one leg forward, the top of her black pubic hair peeking over one ivory thigh. The nipples of her grapefruit-sized breasts tented the filmy material.

"Hello there," she said. I was silent, staring at her. After I had been quiet for too long she said, "I left my glasses in the bathroom. I can't tell if you're into this."

"Oh, yes. Very much. Sorry, when a fantasy happens in real life, your brain takes a bit to catch up." I went to her, taking her in my arms. This time her kiss was deeper, her arms snaking around my neck, pulling me into her. Chloë always had the look of a doll, with her porcelain skin and masses of dark hair and too-blue eyes, but now she was as hot as a candleflame.

On impulse, I lifted her into a bridal carry. She yelped, then fell into a giggle. I carried her to the bed and laid her down on it. She kissed my mouth, her hands at my face.

"I don't mean to be pushy, but you're overdressed," she said.

"You're right." I undressed as quickly as I could. When I pulled my boxer briefs off and my erection popped into view, her eyes widened just a bit.

"We're really doing this," she said.

"We can do whatever," I said. "If you want to call it off at any point, you can."

"Are you trying to get out of sleeping with me?"

I climbed onto the bed, crouching over her. "Not on your life."

I kissed her face, her neck. She spread her legs, I felt like she was expecting me to take her right then. I continued to fall, pausing at her breasts, kissing her hard nipples through the cloth, then to her flat belly. Her aroma pulled me down, a subtle, autumnal smell that made me think of fallen leaves, wet with fresh rain.

The hem of her babydoll nightie came to the tops of her thighs. Her pussy was behind the gauzy fabric, black hair against ivory skin. I fell below the hem, kissing and nibbling at her thighs. She giggled, then sighed as I found her pulse along her inner thigh. Gently, I pulled the hem up over the border of her sex. Her scent had caught me now. Now she reminded me of tea leaves, freshly soaking.

I looked up at her. One of her hands toyed with her nipples. The other caressed my hair. Her head was back, and she was gulping in big, shuddery breaths. Her knees came off the bed, her thighs spread. I continued my teasing, exploring every part of her but her center. More dew clung to her neatly manicured pubic hair. I realized at that moment she'd planned this.

I kissed just above her slit, against a soft pillow of her pubic hair. Then I moved off to her thighs. Finally, I ran my tongue up her pulse to her center, and up her opening. She sighed, and I tasted that wonderful tea flavor, subtle and pungent at turns.

I took my time with her, opening her up, exploring her folds from her flavorful pussy up to the hard nubbin at the apex of her sex. I took pride in my oral skills. It was the one thing I was always confident in. A girlfriend in college had taught me, and I'd taken those lessons to heart. No woman I had been with since had been anything but ecstatic. I always liked to bring my partner off first, that way I could ensure she had a good time.

Though I was taking my time with Chloë, she wasn't nearly as far along as I thought she should be. Every woman is different, but I was beginning to flag. Maybe my mouth was out of shape. My tongue felt like it was being pulled at the root and my jaw was getting sore. I concentrated, chasing her sighs and moans, trying to find what would take her. I slid fingers inside her, fucking, beckoning. I sucked her clit while tickling her g-spot. Chloë was moaning and writhing, but she wasn't cumming and showed no signs of getting close.

"Come here," she gasped, pulling me up. Her mouth found mine. My tongue was clumsy and swollen.

"You're not done yet," I said.

"It's okay," she gasped. "I had fun. I want you to have something."

Her hand found my cock, and she was aiming it at her sex. Exhausted and besotted, I allowed her to guide me to her sodden folds. With a thrust, I was inside her, moaning her name. She moved her hips against me, kissing my mouth.

I gripped her, bringing her hips up and driving my sex down into her. She let out moans with each thrust into her body. I fought against the building of pleasure inside me. I kept thinking that this would be the one that broke her, that this would be the moment her insides turned to liquid. She looked like she was having a good time, but not good enough.

And of course I was enraptured by her beauty. Her breasts jiggled with every thrust into her, nipples dancing under the diaphanous fabric. Her abdomen was taut, her sex gripping mine. Her eyes were closed, her mouth an inviting O.

She was perfect and, in that moment, I could only think of her. I was no longer able to hold it back. "Chloë, I'm gonna cum," I gasped.

"On my belly," she panted.

One, two, three strokes and I could fight no longer. The pleasure flowed out of me in a delicious wave. I pulled out of her, hurling pearly ropes over her pale stomach. When the last had been wrung out of me, I fell onto the bed, my whole body loose.

She rolled on her side to face me, the image of her demure face contrasting with a body barely concealed by the nightie. Her pussy was mostly out of view now, far away and behind that gauzy material.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, sorry. I just feel a little guilty. You didn't cum."

"It's okay. I don't always."

"I'd be happy to..."

She shook her head. "No, I'm way too sensitive. It's okay. I had fun." She touched my face. "You had fun, right?"

I laughed. "I had fun."

"Are you going to stay the night?"

I wanted to say with her, but guilt has a way of latching on to whatever is handy. Now I was thinking of Jenn. "I should get home to Haley."

"I understand," she said, and the problem with Chloë's eyes is they couldn't lie. She might have understood but that didn't make it not hurt.

"I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she murmured.

I got dressed and the woman that I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with lay on the covers. Now she looked faintly ridiculous in her lingerie and streaked in my cum. I hated that I thought that. She deserved more. I kissed her goodbye and drove home.

Laura was in the living room, and she broke into a smirk. "Looks like someone had a good time."

"Yeah," I said. "How's Haley?"

"Conked out about a half hour after bedtime."

"Thanks."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied. Laura saw it, but she let the matter drop.

We continued to date. Outside of the bedroom, it was great. Chloë was fun and smart, the perfect companion. The sex was decent. But the one thing that drove me crazy was that she never came. Not once. She insisted she didn't need to, that it was enough to see me get off, but I knew that was wrong.

And my mind was still wrapped up with Jenn. Chloë and I were getting serious. It was at the point where not imagining some kind of future with her was the strange thing. There was one more hurdle to pass.

I sat Haley down one Saturday. She was a month away from the end of the school year, my little kindergartener about to be a big first grader. I cooked her favorite breakfast, silver dollar pancakes and bacon, no eggs. As she ate, I tried to figure out how to broach the subject, but the words I'd rehearsed felt wrong in my mind.

"Daddy? Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin. I'm thinking about something."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Your teacher, Miss Chloë."

"What about her?"

"I like her. A lot."

"You want to be her boyfriend?"

"Only if that's okay with you."

"It's okay. I like Miss Chloë. I like the way she sings us songs about numbers."

"I was going to take us to the Natural History Museum. She was going to meet us there. Is that okay?"

She nodded. "Can I get a stuffie from the gift shop?"

"Of course."

"Then it's okay."

I snorted. "That's extortion."

"I think I want a triceratops."

We got ready and drove south of Downtown to the Natural History Museum. Chloë waited for us, in a sleeveless blouse and high-waisted shorts, her mass of brown hair corralled in a high ponytail. I felt like I was coming home. That this was the most natural thing in the world. That this was not a father and daughter meeting a friend, but that we were meeting the rest of the family.

The realization took the air from my lungs.

"Hi Haley!" Chloë waved. My daughter ran to her, wrapping her in a hug.

"Hi, Miss Chloë!" She let her teacher go, and said solemnly. "Daddy says he really likes you and I said it was okay."

"That's good," Chloë said, color touching her cheeks as she looked at me. "I like your Daddy too. We're both glad that's okay with you."

The matter decided, we went inside, past the whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling to the inside. Haley ran ahead and Chloë's hand found mine. Our fingers intertwined so naturally. I never would have thought it was Jenn. Chloë's hands were always a little cold, her fingers slender. An artist's fingers. But holding her felt normal. Good. Perfect even.

I bought Haley her triceratops and we went through the museum top to bottom, going through the dinosaur hall more than once. Chloë never once let go of my hand, and it was easy to forget she was doing it at all.

When it came time to go, Haley spoke up, addressing her teacher. "Want to come over?"

"That sounds great! If that's okay?"

"Of course it's okay," I said.

Chloë followed us from Downtown and into the Hollywood Hills. My house was on the smaller side for some of the places up here, cantilevered to the golden hills. Our view was mostly canyon, but a slice of the city was visible from the back deck through a fold in the hills. I parked in the driveway and directed Chloë to pull in after me. She drove a tiny Prius that looked like it had seen better days.

"This is nice!" she said as she got out.

I opened the door. The house had been built in the '60s, a mid-century home for a small family. The back wall was mostly glass, leading to a deck that wrapped around the house. The living room was open, with the kitchen on one side and a hallway leading to mine, Haley's, and the guest bedroom on the other.

Chloë's attention immediately went to the Centipede machine beeping against the wall of the front room. "Wow. You weren't kidding."

I laughed self-consciously. "First movie as a DP, I put a down payment on this place and bought that."

"DP?"

"Director of Photography. It's the credit for cinematographer."

"If I'm gonna be dating a hotshot Hollywood guy, I need the lingo." She gave me fingerguns and I laughed, loving her more all the time.

"I want to show you my room!" Haley said, dragging Chloë off.

While they did that, I got glasses of water for the grownups and juice for the kid, bringing them in to Haley's. My daughter was in the midst of giving Chloë an introduction to every one of her toys, which Chloë took with the appropriate gravity of meeting a UN delegation.

I heard a key in the door and went to the living room as Laura came in. "Laura! Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I don't think I need you tonight."

"No date?"

Chloë came in from the back. "No, she's already here."

"So she is. Hi," Laura said, sticking her hand out.

"Laura Sanchez, Chloë Delain."

"It's nice to meet you," Chloë said.

"Good to put a name to the face." Laura turned to me. "You mind if I hang out for a bit? I'll head back after a rest."

"Let me make you lunch at least," I said.

Laura agreed and I went into the kitchen while Laura and Chloë entertained Haley. I was cooking shredded chicken for tacos when Laura came in, getting herself a glass of water from the fridge. "I like her," she said.

"I'm glad."

"She's good with the kid. And the way you look at her. It's something." She paused. "Only the second I said that and you tensed up tighter than a guitar string. What's going on?"

Laura was a polygraph in human form. It was pointless to lie to her, and she'd earned more than that. I'd trusted her with Haley. "That's the problem."

"I don't get it."

"I really like her. Really, really like her."

"Still not a problem."

"What would Jenn think?"

"Oh." Laura looked at her water. "I never knew Jenn, but I can't help but think she'd want you to be happy, wouldn't she?"

"But with another woman?"

"She loved you, right? And she loved Haley?"

"More than anything."

"I think she'd be happy. You meet a woman who clearly likes you, who's great with the Squirt...this is a best-case scenario. I think if I were her, I'd be worried about you joining a cult or something."

"You think that's a possibility?"

"Or a user, or someone who'd be mean to the kid. That woman, okay, she's a little twee, sure. But she's sweet, and she's genuine, and she's really good with Haley."

"I just feel like I'm being a bad husband."

Laura put her hand on my back. "I know this is in you, so there's nothing I can really say. You're not a bad husband. You're not a bad person. You waited, and you found the right woman."

Relief boiled out of me. My vision blurred. "Thank you for..."

"Hey," Laura said, wrapping me in an embrace. "You're good."

I wiped my eyes. "So are you. Learned all that in psych class?"

"Yeah, well. Child development concentration means I still have to take the regular stuff. You have to understand, this conversation isn't a silver bullet. You're still gonna feel some guilt, some weirdness. But I want you to tell yourself that it's okay. Chloë is good for you. She's good for Haley."

"I'm gonna miss you when you leave for grad school."

"I'm gonna miss you and the Squirt too."

"Thanks, Laura. You're...you're a hell of a friend."

"Yeah, I'm awesome. Now pay attention to that chicken before it burns."

"Yes, ma'am."

She was right. The feelings weren't gone, but she'd given me a way to look at them. Once I had the makeshift taco bar set up, I called everyone in. Chloë supervised Haley, and my daughter took her guidance without hesitation.

"Miss Chloë says we need to watch The Great Muppet Caper," Haley said. "Can we watch that today?"

"I don't see why not. We'll need to rent it."

"I could run home and get my DVD," Chloë said.

"And fetch an overnight bag," Laura said, fixing her taco.

Color crept into Chloë's cheeks and she gave a shrug. "What do you think?"

"Okay, looks like we have a movie night."

Laura went home after lunch, and Chloë followed her down the hill, returning a short while later. We watched the movie with dinner, and then went out onto the deck, watching as the sun vanished behind the hills and the coyotes started their nightly choir. We put Haley to bed and she demanded a story from Chloë rather than me.

Chloë joined me out on the deck, the night closing in around us. "She's asleep!" she said. "Read her that Wizard of Oz book. It's beautiful. Her mom had great taste."

"She did. Can I mix you a cocktail?"

"Yeah, I'll have what you're having." I went inside and made up an old fashioned, rejoining her on the deck. "Thank you. This place is amazing."

"I like it."

We stayed out there together, just experiencing the evening. "You want to go to bed?" she asked. I took her hand and we went to my bedroom. I thought, with some of the feelings exorcized, we would break through. She would finally cum. But she didn't.

Things finally changed one night when I was at her place. We had been on the couch, watching that movie of Anna's that she had made her name on. Chloê lay between my legs, her head pillowed on my chest, my arms wrapped around her. As the credits rolled, she yawned adorably. "If you want me, it's now or I'm falling asleep."

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, running my hands up and down her arm.

"Yeah, sure."

"You never cum when we're together. Is there something wrong? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, it's fine. I told you, I don't always cum."

"That's just it, Chloë. It's not that you don't always. You never. I feel like there has to be something. Something we're not doing. Something that you want."

I felt her tense. She was silent for a long time. I almost said something when she spoke. "There is something. But...it's okay if you don't want it."

My mind was already spinning with what she meant. "You can tell me."

"I can't cum unless..." she swallowed. "Unless my ass gets attention."

"Attention? Like what? You want me to finger you? Anal sex?"

She was bright red, and her shoulders were tensed. "Yes and yes. The more the better."

"Why would that be a problem?"

"Because guys look at me and they have this image in their minds. Like I'm this pure little pixie or something. And finding out their little pixie needs rough anal sex to get off doesn't really go with the fantasy."

"Rough?"

"See? Now you're doing it. I figure I just don't worry about it. I mean, sex is still fun. With you it's even great. And I can get off by myself."

"No, Chloë. I'm okay with this."

"Have you had anal before?" she asked.

"Yeah. I had a girlfriend in college. It was only a couple times."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah."

"And you would be okay doing that with me?"

"I really like you. We should at least give it a shot, shouldn't we?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"So you've been taking care of yourself?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't mind seeing that."

"Oh?"

"It would give me an idea of what to do. Is that okay?"

"If I show you my toys, you're not gonna freak out, are you?"

I felt my pants tightening. "No, I want to see."

She took a shaky breath. "Okay. Let's go." She got up and I followed her into the bedroom. Giving me a look, she reached below her bed and put a small case on it. She unzipped it, and my eyebrows reached for the ceiling. I had to admit, the wholesome kindergarten teacher with this arsenal was something. I saw the edges of what she meant about the image in mind. The difference was, I wanted the woman under the image.

She set them out in a neat row on her quilt. A narrow wand with a handle and a switch. A purple dildo with a ball on the tip. A collection of plugs in varying shapes. She waved over them like a dealer in Vegas, sighing. "There we are."

"Wow," I said.

"I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

"And then you're gonna...'

She nodded. "Yeah."

She left the room and I stared at the toys. A bottle of lube sat in the case. My skin was buzzing as I looked at them. I heard the shower, but it was like I was frozen.

Chloë returned, wrapped in towels, one around her middle, the other a turban for her hair. She had washed off her makeup, and there, damp and naked, she seemed so vulnerable. I watched her wring out her hair, getting it from wet to merely damp. Then she dropped one towel, hanging it on her doorknob. The other one she put on the bed, then laid three toys on it: a plug, the wand, and the dildo. She stood before me, nude.

I watched her light her scented candles, then put her lube on her bedside table, her toys in easy reach.

"Where should I be?" I asked.

"I don't know. I've never done this with company before."

"Me neither." I knelt by the bed, kissing her. "Chloë...thank you for trusting me."

She smiled, a little unsure. "I don't think getting myself off has ever had these kinds of stakes."

I sat on the foot of her bed. I was hard, pressing against my pants. She sat back, propped up on her pillows. Her legs were open, feet flat on the bed. The pose was casual, but there was tension in all of her movements. My gaze fell to her pussy. I'd grown to know it well, but now it felt like unfamiliar territory.

She closed her eyes. One hand toyed with her dark nipples, the other fell between her legs. She traced circles on her flesh, finding her button. Her scent, that wonderful tea aroma I had grown to love, filled the room. She eased a finger between her lips, pushing it into her body. She sighed, and the first bit of tension fell away.

She continued like this for a time. I watched her breath come quicker, her juices flowing now, clinging to the black hair between her legs. There is little more appealing than watching a woman masturbate, but thus far I had yet to see anything that might help me.

She reached over to the stand, squirting some lube onto her fingers. Then she set the bottle aside, picking up the silver plug. I found myself leaning closer. She never opened her eyes. I realized then that this was a pattern for her. Everything was in its place. She slathered the lube over the plug.

Her eyes opened, catching mine. They fluttered, then closed. She scootched down the bed, angling her ass forward. With one hand, she spread herself. With the other, she brought the plug to her center.

I got my first look at Chloë's asshole. It was such an odd sight. Such a carnal part of her, so intimate. I had been down there many times, but I had concentrated on her pussy. I'd ignored the part of her that gave her the most pleasure. The ring was dark against her alabaster skin. It made me think of the black eyeshadow she habitually wore, pulling attention to a beautiful feature.

The plug itself looked a bit like a steel nipple, thin, then thickening, then thinning again, with a ring at the bottom. She moved the slick device around the halo of her anus, teasing the puckered opening as she had teased the folds of her sex. I watched her circle and circle, smearing the dark ring with glistening lubricant.

Her other hand fell to her sex, her finger running up and down her slit, a circle at the top, then down again. She eased the plug in. Her anus swallowed it, clamping around the narrow point at the base of the plug. She let out a happy sigh. Her motions over her pussy grew quicker. She was not still with the plug. I watched her move the ring in circles, the nub of the toy finding different spots inside her.

Her movements quickened, stuttered. Her chest heaved with her breath. Sweat sprung out over her skin as she rocked her hips into the twin sensations of hand and plug. And then, I saw something I had never seen, something I had been craving since we'd grown intimate. Her breath caught, a light shudder going through her body.

She'd cum. A little one. Her eyes opened, and I was shocked at the smoky desire I saw there. She eased the toy from her ass, setting it aside, her hand going to the next one. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I hadn't expected her to go around the world like this.

I was painfully hard. The inside of my shorts was wet with need. I wanted to stroke myself, but I didn't. I needed to watch her. Needed to know what she liked. Needed to see this lewd display.

She took the wand, applied more lube to the tip. She used a lot. Her anus was shiny with it. She brought the wand down between her legs. Her skin reddened in a blush and she took a shaky breath. Then she clicked the toy on. A soft buzzing filled the room.

She put it to the ring of flesh, running it around the rim. She eased the tip into herself. After the comparatively thicker plug, this was simpler. She no longer even touched her sex. Now she gently fucked herself with the wand, sliding it deeper, then shallower, catching every part of her insides with the vibrating tip. The buzzing, now muffled, found her sensitive places.

This time, her moans were a bit louder, her motions more extreme. Her brow furrowed, her eyes closed, her mouth open. Her hips rolled forward, unable to stop herself from trying to get the toy in her.

Her pussy was completely neglected, but she didn't care. I caught a flash of pink as she moved, and her juices drooled from her lips to fall to her ass, joining the lubricant now stirred by the vibrator.

She came again. This time, the cascade of shivers was deeper, her moan throatier. She removed the wand from her ass, clicking it off, and setting it aside. Then she picked up the dildo.

The toy was stylized, a slightly curved purple cylinder tipped with a globe. She slathered still more lube over it. There was something gorgeously obscene in the way she worked the lube over the device. It didn't look like a cock, so it was easy to imagine she was giving a handjob to one of her beloved Muppets.

Whatever humor I got from that image vanished as she placed the ball-tip on her anus. She moved it around and now, loosened with work and hungry with pleasure, it felt like her ass was trying to consume the toy. I watched her open, again and again, but the movement of her wrist passed by. She was pressing, but not hard enough to penetrate herself. She was once again massaging the dark ring of tissue about her center, now gooey with lube, and I was transfixed.

She held her breath, her soft moans, a background of this display, caught, and she pushed the purple ball inside her. "Oh!" she managed, and I'd heard that delighted exclamation before, in innocent contexts. We'd been walking in a park, and passing by a pond, a mother duck had popped out of a bush followed by a trail of four yellow ducklings. This was the same pleased "Oh!" but now it was laden with sensation pulled from her guts, up through her slender body, to her gasping throat.

The shaft of the toy disappeared inside her. Her moan stretched from the point of entry to where the shaft was buried in her. She pushed it to the hilt with precision. She knew the exact dimensions of this thing. This was her most trusted lover, the one that never judged her for her proclivities.

She pulled it out with aching slowness, then back in, kneading the flesh of her anus with the tool. Her moans went high with pleased surprised, then throaty and low as she pulled it out. Each stroke grew faster. She was fucking herself, picking up speed and power, turning a dainty exploration to a robust railing.

Now her gasps were quick, a bright "Oh!" as she drove it in, and she could only inhale as she tore it out of herself. I watched the purple shaft penetrate her sweet ring and I could only imagine my own cock sliding in and out of her. Would it be face to face, where I could kiss her on her adorably gasping mouth? Or would I fuck her from behind like an animal?

Her feet came off the bed, her ass pointed out and up, driving the toy into herself over and over. This time when the shivers took her, they were heavy, quakes going from her core out to her limbs, her cry desperate, even frightened.

Then she relaxed, pulling the toy from her ass and setting it aside. Her body was shiny with sweat, her chest heaving. She opened her eyes to look at me and I went to her, taking her in my arms. She held me with the strength of relief.

"That's okay?" her voice was small.

"It's okay. It's better than okay. I just want to be with you," I said.

"Not tonight. Not that way. I'm always a little sore after."

"I understand. Do you mind if I took care of myself?"

"No. I want to do something for you."

"You already--"

"Shh. I want to do something. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Get undressed. I'll be right back."

She got up, steadying herself on the bed, then collected the toys and went into the bathroom. I heard the shower going and I undressed, laying down on the bed. My cock was harder than it had ever been. I stroked myself, finding I was slimy with my own fluids. An orgasm brewed in my belly, begging to be spilled inside Chloë.

She came back in, her body newly wet from the shower, her hair tied back in a messy bun. She put the towel down, and her freshly cleaned plug and the purple dildo went into the case. She knelt on the bed and held up the wand. "I want to use this on you."

"What?" The panic was cold on me. I had never thought about that. The idea of being penetrated had never really been on the menu for me.

"I want to go down on you. And while I'm doing it, I want to use this."

My heart pounded on my ribcage like it was trying to get out. Chloë had gone down on me a few times, but never to completion and it always felt begrudging, like she was obligated after I ate her out for an hour at a time.

"Will you swallow?" I asked.

She nodded. "Every last drop. But I've always wanted to use this on a man. Can I use it on you?"

I swallowed, hard. This was going to be the moment of truth. A change for me, how I saw myself. I nodded. "Okay. But if I say no, then it stops."

"Of course. What do you take me for?"

A nervous laugh escaped me. "I don't know anymore."

She kissed me softly on the mouth. "It's just me."

I spread my legs hesitantly and Chloë knelt between them. She leaned over, and I felt her hot breath against my cock. She pressed her lips against the head of me and I nearly came. I was overheated, overcome, and overwhelmed.

She clicked on the wand, and the buzzing now felt vaguely threatening. I tried to relax myself, remembering I could stop this at any time. She brought it down, and I felt the head against my ass cheek. I jerked once, tickled and shocked. She opened her mouth and felt the velvet wetness enclose the head of my cock. This was no longer the perfunctory slurps she sometimes used to get me aroused. This time, her tongue caressed me as she sucked me into her mouth.

The vibrator returned. My ass clenched. The tip, wet with lube, wormed between my cheeks. The buzzing wasn't unpleasant. The opposite. It spread out through my body, running up to the head of my cock, where Chloë was presently sucking me in, releasing me, her tongue busy.

I felt the orgasm right behind, ready to go. After watching her get off, I wouldn't need much of a trigger. I was holding off only because this felt like something she wanted, something that was important to her.

The vibrator was now resting on my asshole. The pleasure rolled my eyes into the back of my head. My whole lower body felt like the head of my dick. Her tongue could only be in one place, and yet it felt like it was everywhere.

And then, she pushed inside me. The vibration gripped the orgasm, squeezing it until it popped. My entire body caught fire in exploding lights. I heard a choked sob and realized it was mine. The pleasure constructed my whole body, spilling at the head of me. I watched Chloë try to swallow, choke once, a line of cum obscenely escaping from the corner of her mouth to run down her chin.

And somehow, I broke again. That sight and the buzzing in my ass combined. A second orgasm on the heels of the first. She coughed, her head coming off my cock, and a rope of cum hit her face. She yelped, then leaned over, clamping her mouth over the head of me, licking, swallowing. She was hungry in a way I had never before seen in her.

The vibrator slid from my ass. I was completely boneless, utterly relaxed. I didn't think I could move.

Chloë set the vibrator down, wiping her face on the towel and putting the whole thing on the floor. Then she cuddled up next to me, her nude body pressing against mine.

"How was that?"

"How do you think?"

She smiled, kissing the side of my chest. "Are you staying the night?"

"Yeah. I just need to text Laura. She'll appreciate the extra cash."

With the text sent and acknowledged, I took Chloë in my arms and fell asleep with her on top of her covers.

We were like teenagers the next day, sharing some delicious secret. I'd catch her grinning at me and I could only smile back. I'm sure we seemed like lunatics. We went back to my place and I let Laura go with a hearty thank you and spent the day with Haley. With the three of us.

There was only one more thing for us to do. The moment that would seal it. It had to wait a maddening week, a week I spent with a perpetual erection. Every night I stripped off shorts with a wet spot where the head of my cock had been resting. I refused to jerk off though, I wanted to wait for her.

It was Haley's final week of kindergarten. Her last week of being Miss Chloë's student. I picked Haley up that Friday. I kissed Chloë. That felt right. I wanted to kiss her after work every day.

"You're coming over tonight, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, I just want to pick up some stuff from home."

"Another Muppet movie, Miss Chloë?" asked Haley innocently.

"Yep! That's it," she said with a glance to me about how that was decidedly not it.

"Hey, Haley? I don't think you have to call her Miss Chloë anymore."

"What do I call her?"

"Just Chloë's fine for now," she said, kneeling in front of my daughter.

"I'll try. But it's gonna be weird."

"If that doesn't sum her up perfectly," I said.

Chloë gave me a smack on the arm. "Be nice."

"Yes, Miss Chloë."

I got everything fixed up. Haley went in the tub and I started chopping veggies for the stir fry. I shot Laura a text telling her we didn't need her for the evening and she texted me back a winking face. I felt my face growing hot. Laura didn't know what was on the agenda for the evening. I wondered if she'd be so cavalier. Or if I was making a big deal where there wasn't one.

Chloë arrived a short time later with her overnight bag, putting it in the bedroom. The three of us played in the living room for a bit, then I excused myself to make dinner. The movie was next, Muppets Take Manhattan, and Haley was a fan. Then we put the kid down, reading her Wizard of Oz storybook. Haley was snoring softly as I crept from her room.

Chloë joined me out on the deck. Without any hesitation, she sat down on my lap, leaning into my chest. She did it unselfconsciously, like we did it every day. I smelled her hair, her brand of shampoo that always smelled of strawberries, the touch of perfume she put on her neck. I held her. We looked out over the canyon, the lights from the other houses like stars against the dark folds of terrain.

"How are you?" I asked.

"A little nervous."

"Me too." I touched her hair. "Feels like we're gonna have our first time."

"Yeah." She picked up my hand, kissing a finger. "You're okay with this, right?"

I turned her face to mine, so she could look into my eyes. "Better than okay. I'm just...I want it to be good for you."

Her soft lips found mine. "It'll be good. But...how loud can we be?"

"Haley sleeps like the dead, and I turned her white noise machine up, but just to be safe, we might want to put a towel under the door."

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up. I'll meet you in there?"

"Sounds good." I kissed her and watched her go into the other room. After a moment, I got up and went into the bedroom. I lit the candles I'd purchased for this reason. Jasmine scent filled the room. I set the bottle of lube on my night table. Then I undressed and lay on my bed. The curtains were open, and after a moment I drew them closed.

She came in. Her hair was dry but her body glistened and she smelled of my soap. She wore the same babydoll nightie that she'd worn our first night, the same ribbon around her throat. I realized that had to be her one piece of sexy lingerie, and warmed me even more. As she crept in, her body only partly hidden by gauzy teal, I knew with a sudden clarity that I loved her.

She climbed into bed, holding and kissing me. "You're trembling," she said.

"So are you."

"You ready?"

"Yeah." I had her lay down on her belly. Pillows went under her pelvis, pushing her ass up. Now she was presenting to me. The line of her body was art. I knelt behind her. I had been thinking about this all week. At first, it was speculative, but it had taken root in my mind. I couldn't exorcise it. I would have to do it.

I ran my hands up the backs of her thighs over her buttocks, gently easing the globes of her cheeks apart, revealing the dark ring that had captured my imagination. She gave a throaty chuckle, a slight wiggle of her ass at me. I think she was expecting me to fetch the lube and start fingerfucking her.

I leaned over, brushing kisses over her soft cheeks. I ran my tongue over her flesh, nibbling and teasing. She moaned. "Owen? What are you doing?"

I answered in the best way I could think of. I kissed her asshole, my lips against the rubbery ring.

"Oh!" that delighted, surprised exclamation.

My attention moved away and I was pleased to see that she moved after me, her anus chasing the kiss. I continued the tease, then moved my tongue up her leg where the seams of her stockings would have run. She shivered under me, her moan climbing, until my tongue found her center.

She tasted of soap, with a musky, earthy scent underneath. The aroma of her sex reached me, her tea-scent that demanded a place on my tongue. I followed the temptation, penetrating her pussy once. She cried out, and I returned to her anus, teasing around the edge of her.

"Oh!" That wonderful, delighted sound fell from her lips faster as I explored.

The texture of her pussy was velvet, her asshole was firmer, tighter. I spread her now, the soap taste vanishing in favor of salty sweat. I probed the puckered opening with the tip of my tongue, and then, with a push, I entered her.

The "Oh!" that followed was loud enough that I momentarily glanced at the door, certain I was going to be interrupted. No knock came and I turned back to what I was doing.

Her ass was impossibly tight, and I worked my tongue through the ring. Inside, the taste was saltier, earthier. I reached between her legs, massaging her pussy, running from the back to the front. She squealed, and I felt the shudder.

She had cum.

I didn't pump my fist. But when I felt that trembling, the happy "Oh!" as she reached the apex of her pleasure and took her shuddering descent, my heart leapt.

I sat up, squirting lube into my hands and rubbing it along my length. The scent of artificial cherry joined the miasma over the bed. Another load, and I warmed it in my hands before returning to her anus. She was hungry now, her hips working back against me. The pillow beneath her was soaking, her tea scent washing over me. I ran my finger around her asshole, mimicking the motions she had made with the plug.

Another "Oh!" Her eyes were shut, her mouth open, her brow furrowed. She was adorable, and this obscene act only made her more wonderful.

I probed the ring, and felt her wanting me. Her hips rocked back, and her anus swallowed my index finger to the first knuckle. She worked herself back against me, trying to get my finger deeper into her. I reached between her legs, returning to the exploration of her pussy. As I brushed her clit, I slid a second finger into her ass.

Her "Oh!" so delighted, so happy.

She was happier with the third finger. I fucked her with my fingers, caressing her pussy with my other hand. Her shivers took over now, and she was moving faster, pushing the three fingers as deep as they would go. Her hips encouraging a jackhammer motion I could scarcely believe.

She gasped my name once and I knew what she meant. I removed my fingers from her ass and watched as the hole closed before my eyes. I took my cock in hand, now running its head where my tongue had shortly been. My own juices joined the gobs of lubricant that had spilled and squelched from her.

She pressed against me, desperate to get me inside. I watched, hypnotized, as her anus swallowed the tip of my cock. "Oh!" this time was heavier, throatier. I heard relief in her voice, as though a great pressure that had been on her shoulders was suddenly gone, all because I was inside her. Only the head of me had vanished, the dark ring clamped at the top of my shaft.

I remembered those sticky afternoons in college when my girlfriend had walked me through. "Go slow," she'd told me, and I fought the urge to just impale Chloë. The sight of my cock in her ass was unspeakably erotic. The sensation was better, the tightness of her, the heat of her insides, holding onto me with a desperate strength.

She pushed back onto me, taking another inch inside her. I caressed her, running my hands from her hips up under her nightie. She wiggled with the slight tickle, her anus clenching around me. She sighed with the sudden new pleasure and I sank into her further.

One of her hands reached back to me, groping for mine. I took it, interlacing our fingers. She was breathing her Ohs in a constant stream, nothing separating one from the other. Her asshole wrung a groan from my throat, pulling it from the grip it held on my cock through my body, up my electrified spine, to my throat. I had never experienced anything like the bliss I found in her ass.

And then, I was buried to the hilt. Her pussy was open, soaking, her writhing smearing her juices over my balls. I stayed there, luxuriating in the connection between us. Every inch of me was held lovingly by her ass. The heat of her and the beat of her heart stroked my length, milking the insistent pleasure that built in my belly.

I began to withdraw, lighting up all the nerves along my cock, reaching exploding fingers to every part of me. Her "Oh!" was that deeper, longing exclamation, mingled loss and ecstasy in a single syllable.

Then, at the tip of me, I entered again. Now we were truly fucking. My strokes were slow, even. I didn't want to hurt her, wanted to keep building this thing inside us. I felt it as a living creature, united through where our fingers met against her hip, my pleasure feeding hers, hers feeding mine, a feedback loop that only grew in power.

She gasped a word, a single ragged, broken word. I don't think she could have managed anything more complex. One word broke through the heaven we were creating between us.

"Harder."

For a moment, I wasn't sure I'd heard it. Then I remembered what she'd said: rough anal sex. At the time I had registered the word, but so much was happening that it fell away. I remembered it now. This was what she wanted. This was the fantasy that I would help her experience.

I drew my cock out of her until her anus grasped only the head, then, poised, I inhaled, drinking in the smells the room. The soap vanishing under the muskier smell of our sweat. Her tea scent soaking the pillow beneath. The synthetic cherry of the lubricant. Something deeper and earthier from within her, drawn out by our fucking.

Then I slammed my cock home into her. Her "Oh!" was a choked sob, tremors shaking her body. She shook violently, the knuckles of her hand going white as she gripped mine. Through this, I felt her pushing back. She wanted more.

I gave it to her. I once again pulled out nearly all the way before hammering her. The quakes only grew stronger, her grip tighter.

Through her, the way the orgasm shook her body, the way it snaked into mine, caught my own in its tendrils. I continued to fuck, as hard as I was able, plunging into her again and again. She quaked and shook and cried out. And finally, I could take no more.

The orgasm was like nothing I had ever felt. She pulled it out of me, drawing it like a spiderweb across every part of my body, lighting my nerves like stars and I spilled those stars into her, as deep as I could imagine. I had the sensation that I was out of my body, that the pleasure was too much, ejecting me out into the cosmos. But Chloë was there, holding me, rocking with her own indescribable bliss.

The next thing I knew we were spooning on our sides. I was softening inside her. Our fingers were still together. I looked at them in wonder, bringing her hand to my mouth, kissing the flesh of her, as though I had to convince myself she was real.

"That was...everything I wanted," she murmured.

"I'm glad."

"I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk tomorrow."

"We'll stay in."

She giggled. "I'm gonna go clean up."

She got up, wobbling on her feet like a newborn colt. She returned a short while later and I took my turn in the bathroom. We cuddled into bed together, Chloë nestled in the crook of my arm. I slept better than I had in years.

The next morning she was indeed walking a little funny, and I only made one joke about it. She smirked and blew me a kiss. Haley loved having Chloë at the house, even if she was still calling her "Miss." I made them breakfast while they played together.

I passed the picture of Jenn more than once and I wondered what I saw in her eyes. I wondered if she really was happy with this, happy in our own version of Oz. Outside on the deck, Chloë had an arm wrapped about Haley, pointing to a hawk soaring over the canyon. My daughter's eyes were wide with wonder. A sight she'd seen before, but Chloë made it matter more.

That was when I knew. I kissed my finger and touched Jenn's face and joined my family out on the deck.