Life returned to routine on Monday, and on Tuesday I met with Professor Joska to get his approval on my design proposal.

“Didn’t Miss Carmichael live in Japan?” he asked as he leafed through my drawings.

“Yes, sir. And our neighbor was born there. She has pictures from before the war, so I have plenty of primary source material to base my designs on.”

“Mmm, just so,” he agreed. He quizzed me about some of my decisions, and we discussed them for several minutes. Finally he said, “Your work lately shows a new level of creativity and attention to detail. Is that Miss Carmichael’s doing?”

“Yes and no,” I said after a moment. “She gives me a different artistic perspective, so I’m more creative as a result. The attention to detail is all mine.”

He gazed at me calmly and waited for an explanation.

“I’ve done a lot of growing up lately. In many ways I’m more confident, although I know I still have a lot to learn. So I pay attention to what I’m doing, and especially to what you’re teaching.” I smiled at a thought. “Sometimes I even talk like you.”

“Oh?”

“I gave a flying lesson recently and stole one of your lines: ‘Flying is a serious business for serious people.’”

“I imagine it is.”

“It is. And if you screw up or forget something, it could cost you. Architecture is like that. In the worst case you have the Hyatt Regency. But even if no one dies, failures like Tacoma Narrows or the John Hancock Tower cost a lot of money.”

He nodded judiciously. “Those were failures of engineering more than design.”

“Maybe,” I argued, “but bad design is difficult to engineer safely. Besides, we aren’t Apollodorus or Brunelleschi, where the architect is also the builder.”

“How so?”

“We work in a multidisciplinary field, Professor.” I realized that I was talking to a man who had more years of real-world experience than I’d been alive, but I still felt the need to explain. “We need civil and structural engineers, mechanical and electrical, landscape and lighting, interior designers and even artists. Our buildings are more than just designs. They’re complex systems, and every detail is important.”

“Perhaps you are correct,” he said at last, “you have grown up.” Then he gave me a piercing look. “Your proposal is accepted, but you must still work hard if you wish to succeed with it.”

I grinned. “Hard work never bothered me. I’d’ve quit long before now if it did.”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I must also work hard. And I have other students besides you, Mr. Hughes. Please send in the next one. Good day.”

“Good day, Professor.” I gathered my things and could’ve sworn the old tyrant was smiling at my back as I left.

Later that afternoon, Glen surprised me at the end of judo practice.

“I been thinkin’,” he said in his usual laconic way. “’Bout joinin’ the Army.”

I stared at him. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“When? After you graduate?”

He shook his head. “Thursday.”

“Hold on… this Thursday?”

He nodded.

“What about school?”

“Droppin’ out. Before I flunk out.”

“What’s T.J. think?”

“Dunno. Haven’t told him.”

“Why not? I thought he was your best friend.”

“Maybe he used to be…” He shrugged. “He’s busy with the fraternity.”

“What about you? Aren’t you busy with them too?”

“Don’t really like most of them guys.”

I felt my brow wrinkle in surprise.

“Too many ‘Old South’ types.”

“I think I understand.”

“Thought you would.”

Kappa Alpha was semi-notorious on campus. The Pikes were the rich pricks, the Fijis were the party animals, and the ΚΑs were the old-school racists. They didn’t wear sheets or burn crosses, but they were entirely too nostalgic about the Confederacy and its traditions. Not all ΚΑs—the same as there were nice Pikes and serious Fijis—but too many.

Glen drew me back to the present. “So, I leave Thursday. Goin’ to visit my gram and then report for basic training. Wanted to tell you first.” He held out a pen and folded piece of notebook paper. “I was hopin’ to get your address so I can write you a letter when I get there.”

“Sure, absolutely.” I unfolded the paper and felt my chest tighten. Glen had written “Friends” across the top in blue ink. The page was blank otherwise. I wrote my address and added my parents’ for good measure. “Where do you report to?” I asked as I handed it back.

“Fort McClellan. Alabama. Recruiter said I could be an MP.”

The reality of it finally hit me. “What’m I gonna do without you, Glen? I mean, you’re my friend, my sparring partner, my Zen mentor, my friend.”

“You said that already.” He grinned bashfully. “What’re you gonna do? Stay in school. Marry that little girl you’re seein’. Build skyscrapers. Do great things. An’ remember, don’t rush to judgment. Be mindful. Live in harmony, mind and body.”

That was a long speech for him.

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Do, or do not. There is no try.”

“So now you’re Yoda?” I teased.

“Always liked that line,” he said, back to taciturn.

“Yeah, it’s a good one. Very Zen.” We shared a smile. “Are you having a going-away party?”

“Don’t think so. Not my style.”

“No,” I agreed.

“So… this is probably goodbye.” He extended a hand.

I pulled him into a hug. “I’ll miss you, buddy.” I had to blink back sudden tears, but he didn’t tease me when we pulled apart.

“Yeah, me too,” he said instead.

“C’mon,” I said. “I’ll walk to the frat house with you.”

He shook his head. “You normally go the other way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go on. I’ll be fine. But… thanks.”

“Yeah. Okay. Then I guess this is goodbye.”

He nodded.

We walked out to the street and parted with a silent wave. He turned toward Fraternity Row. I jogged the other way, across the street and toward a different life.

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said wearily as she closed the bedroom door, “you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

She’d been working late in her studio on the Kanagawa series.

“I finished with Wren’s part, but I have to do the whole thing again with Sayuri. And Siobhan thinks I really need a third piece, in between the young and the old. Whose dumb idea was it to do a series anyway?”

She shed her clothes in a trail across the floor. I suppressed my annoyance and decided to enjoy the view instead. She stood in front of the mirror on the dresser and began her nightly lotions and potions ritual. I listened politely as she wondered aloud where she’d find a model who fit the general shape and size of a middle-aged Japanese woman.

“Siobhan probably knows someone,” I said. “Or Sayuri herself. Or we can just put an ad in the newspaper.”

“That’d take too long.”

“I could ask random women if they’d like to pose nude.” That earned a glare. “Okay, maybe Sara can help. She knows plenty of models in town. And she probably knows some of the… um… local dancers.”

I watched with amusement as Christy reacted predictably. At first she tensed to reject the idea outright. But then she thought about it and softened a bit. Finally she slumped and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“I don’t care where you find her,” she said.

My lips twitched with amusement. “Oh? So it’s my job to find your model?”

“It says so in the Handbook. Page ten.”

I chuckled and went to stand behind her. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the mirror.

“Please?” she said. “I don’t want to argue. I… need your help. I bit off more than I can chew.”

“I’ll help,” I said calmly. “But you have to promise not to get upset if I end up talking to strippers for real.”

“I promise. Although…” She gazed back at me with a suggestive little smile. “You have to take me with you if you actually go to a strip club.” Her brow furrowed. “Does Knoxville even have one?”

“Several,” I laughed.

“Of course you’d know.”

“It’s in the Handbook,” I said blandly. “Page nine. Nude entertainment.”

“Ha ha, very funny. A strip club…,” she mused. Then all of a sudden she blushed.

“Oh? Another fantasy?”

She glared. “Sometimes I really don’t like you.”

“Mmm, except when you do.”

“Except when I do,” she agreed. She put her hand over mine, closed her eyes, and leaned against my chest. We stood like that in quiet communion until she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “You always make me feel better. About everything.”

“Page one in the Handbook.”

She smiled. “You do it really well, even when I’m tired and crabby.” She visibly adjusted her attitude. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask about you. I just came in and started complaining. How was your day?”

I thought about it for a moment and tried to describe my feelings. “Opposite ends of the spectrum,” I said at last.

“What happened?”

I told her about the high end and my meeting with Joska. Then I swung to the low and my farewell with Glen.

“Oh my gosh, Paul, I’m so sorry.” She turned and slipped her arms around me. “I know how much you like him.”

“I do, but… I think he’ll do well in the military. He’ll be a great MP, too. He’s so levelheaded.” I chuckled at a memory. “One time I saw him stop a fight with a simple joint lock. He never hit the guy. He just locked him up and ended things peacefully. He isn’t afraid of violence, but it’s always a last resort with him.”

“Like Rich,” Christy said.

“Um… no. Rich is different. Sure, they have the same loyalty and devotion to duty, but Rich is prone to direct action. Glen’s… a peacemaker.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers.”

That drew another chuckle. “Glen’s the closest to an actual Buddhist I’ve ever met.”

“Hey,” Christy protested, “I’m a Buddhist.”

“Says the girl who goes to Mass and just quoted the Christian Bible.”

“Fine, so sue me. I’m both.”

“You are.” I kissed the top of her head and inhaled the scent of her. “You’re my little Catholic Buddhist sex kitten.”

“I sound really mixed-up when you put it that way.”

“We’re both mixed-up,” I said. “But lucky for us, we’re mixed-up the same way.”

“You can say that again.”

I kissed her hair again instead of repeating myself.

She hugged me tight and said, “I love you. And I’m sorry about Glen.”

“Me too. But… in a way, I’m happy. Happy for him, at least. I’ll miss him, especially his advice, but if you love someone, you have to be willing to set them free.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?” She looked up at me. “You love him?”

“I guess I never thought about it till now, but… yeah, I do. Not romantic love, but brotherly love, for sure.”

“And that’s what I love about you,” she said. She kissed my chest and pressed her cheek to my skin. “You see the best in everyone and love them for it. You remind me of Laurie.” She hugged me even tighter.

“Sad Birdy?”

“Sad and happy. Numb and tingly. Empty and full.”

“And you say I paint with words? You’re not so bad yourself.”

“It’s your fault.”

“I can live with that.”

I called Sara the next evening, and she gave me several names and phone numbers to try. Sadly, none of them were actual strippers.

“What’d you expect?” she laughed. “We picked Knoxville to get away from the clubs. I never set foot inside one the whole time I was there. It was tempting, especially when we were broke and living on bread sandwiches, but we always scraped by.”

“What’d you do?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t know much about you before Daphne and I met.”

“We had money saved, but not enough if we wanted to eat and go to school. So Daphne was a nanny for a while, until the husband tried to sleep with her and the wife found out. Then she worked at a daycare, but the hours sucked and the woman who ran the place was a judgmental Baptist type. After that we learned about financial aid, and she started getting Pell Grants and stuff.”

“What’d you do?”

“Worked at a grocery store for a while. Then for an insurance agent, until… well… until I didn’t. Drove an ice cream truck one summer. That was fun. Worked as a nude model for a while, for a really creepy old dude and his wife. He was an actual artist, though. Like, no shit, for real. Famous and everything. But then one of my professors got me a scholarship and hired me to work in her gallery. She has one of those places that sells Ansel Adams prints to idiot yuppies.”

“I know the type,” I said with a chuckle. Then, “Sometimes I’m jealous of you.”

“Me? What the hell for?”

“You’ve had such an interesting life.”

“Are you serious?” she flared. “I’ve been used, abused, robbed, raped, beaten up, and generally fucked over since I was five!”

“Yeah, but think about where you are now! I mean, you live in a ‘shithole dump of an apartment’ in Haight-Ashbury. You’re not sure if your next paycheck will be a thousand dollars or ten. Your girlfriend just left you, and you have some asshole on the phone asking where to find strippers to pose nude for him.”

“What’s your point?” she said flatly.

“You’re happier now than you’ve ever been in your life!”

That stopped her next comeback. Then she actually laughed. “Fuck you,” she said at last, still laughing. “Just… fuck you. How dare you make me feel good about my life!”

“Eh, what can I say? I find the misery in everything.”

“You’re an asshole. A real asshole. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course! But I’m your asshole.”

“I already have an asshole. I don’t need another.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I hate to cheer you up and run, but—”

“Hold on,” she said. “I just thought of another name for you. The professor I mentioned, the one who got me the scholarship. She matches the description of the model you need. And I know she wouldn’t mind posing nude. But… I need to warn you about her.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

“Well, she’s a female version of a certain type of guy.”

“How so?”

“You know how some guys are really hung up on tits? Like, the bigger, the better? Well, she’s like that, but about guys and dicks.”

“You mean she’s a size queen?”

“I should’ve known you’d know!” Sara laughed. “Yeah, she’s a size queen. She used to ask me about—”

“Hold on!” I said as a memory clicked into place. “Did this professor look at those pictures you took of me? She wanted to do a photo shoot?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“We talked about it. Daphne was teasing you, ’cause your professor was a little obsessed.”

“Oh, yeah! Now I remember. Yeah, that’s her. She fits your description, but—”

“Not interested. Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t like men who treat women like objects. How is this woman any different?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Assholes are assholes, no matter what they have between their legs.”

“No,” Sara said fondly, “you’re an asshole. Those other people are—”

“Predators. Fucking predators who need to be purged from society.”

“Wow,” she said in surprise.

I shook off my dull fury with an effort.

“Sorry I mentioned her,” Sara said quietly. “I… wasn’t thinking.”

“Nah, it’s all right. I get a little worked up when I think about the bad people in the world, but especially the ones who treat others like a piece of meat.”

“Well, you aren’t one of them.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, “I need to go. Give those women a call. Start with Delilah.” She chuckled at a private joke and didn’t explain. “She’s most likely to do it. Tell her I said hello.”

“Will do,” I said. “Good talking to you, as always.”

“You too. Take care. Bye.”

Delilah wouldn’t work with male artists, period, end of discussion, thanks for calling. I told her no problem and asked her to hold on while I found Christy and put her on the line. They chatted for several minutes and arranged to meet after work the next day at Siobhan’s studio. Christy stayed until nine o’clock and came home in an effusive mood. She rushed upstairs, where she found me working in my studio on my own project.

“She’s amazing, Paul,” she gushed. “Perfect! Exactly the right size and shape. That makes her sound like a dress or something, but you know what I mean. She also wanted me to apologize to you. She said no offense, but she has to be careful about who she meets. She works in an office during the day, but she models on the side. Her husband is her manager, so it kind of startled her to get a call at home.”

“Tell her I’m sorry.”

“She understands. It’s all right. I told her who you are and why you were calling. She remembered Sara and had heard of Siobhan, so that’s why she agreed to meet me. She’s expensive—this is the first time I’ve had to pay a model—but she’s beautiful. Lemme show you.”

“Maybe you’d better not,” I said. “I mean, if she’s that protective of her privacy—”

“No, it’s all right. She said I could.” Her cheeks turned rosy. “She said you had a sexy voice. I told her the rest of you is sexy too. I hope you don’t mind. I know you don’t even know her, but she’s really cool.

“She reminds me of Marianne,” she continued, “only brunette and more open about her body and sex. We talked a lot while I was sketching her. It was a bit like Erin, now that I think about it. She was sort of interviewing me. Huh. That was weird. But… oh, well.”

Christy was too excited to dwell on it. Instead, she opened her sketchbook and showed me several pages of a mid-thirties woman reclining fully nude on a couch. She was about Wren’s size and build, but obviously older around her eyes and mouth and in her hands.

She didn’t look like she’d had children, though. Her breasts sagged a little, but that was mostly because of their size. Her medium-sized areolae were light and smooth and didn’t look like they’d ever nursed a baby. She also kept her pubic hair neat, which was a huge plus in my book.

“She’s very pretty,” I said noncommittally.

“She is. She’s totally perfect. Her face is nothing like Sayuri’s, but that’s easy enough to change. I have a bunch of pictures from when she lived in Wyoming and South Dakota. Sayuri, I mean. She’s about the right age in those. I did the same with Wren: put the younger Sayuri’s face on her body. I know that makes her sound like some sort of Frankenstein, but—”

“Frankenstein’s monster,” I said before I could stop myself. “Frankenstein was the doctor.”

“Oh. Okay. Whatever. Anyway, I think I need to…”

I paged through the sketches again and silently admired the woman as I listened to Christy with half my attention. She chattered away about hairstyles and outfits, and how she wanted to make them appropriate for the different time periods. She had trouble describing them, so she grabbed her sketchbook, flipped to a blank page, and simply drew what she wanted.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about,” she finished. “Unfortunately, Siobhan doesn’t think I can finish everything this quarter, especially since we added another piece.”

“Are you casting them?”

She nodded. “I don’t have the experience to sculpt actual marble. That’s what the MFA is for. And to cast bronze. I know how to do both, but I’ve only done small pieces. So we’re doing the Kanagawa pieces in Carrara marble dust. Half-scale again. I don’t need to show emotions like I did with you and the Replicant, but I want to put a lot of details into the faces and kimono and futon.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to build the molds,” I said. “I’ll help—”

“I knew you would,” she beamed.

“—but I need to add it to my schedule. I have a pretty tricky model to build for my own project. Nothing like last time, but still…”

“I don’t think we’ll cast them this quarter,” Christy said. “Siobhan wants me to concentrate on the maquettes and details and planning. We’ll cast in the spring for my final portfolio review. The Art Department is having another big show, and these’ll be the centerpieces of my exhibition.”

I nodded.

“I… hope you’ll be my date again.”

“Of course.”

“And this time I promise I won’t call you ‘my future husband.’”

“Oh, I think it’d be all right if you did.”

She searched my eyes. “Are you serious?”

“I think so. We aren’t ready to make it official, but I think that’s the direction we’re headed. Why? Don’t you?”

“Yes, of course! But…” She frowned. “I always thought it’d be more romantic than this. It’d be a surprise or something, like in books and movies.”

I chuckled. “Well, think about it… Danny and Sabrina talked about getting married before he actually popped the question. Harry and Marianne too.”

“I know, but still… I guess I have this storybook idea of what romance is like, and the reality is more… I dunno. What’s a good word?”

“Prosaic.”

“Exactly.”

I gathered her in my arms and said, “I’ll try to add more poetry to our romance.”

Her forehead wrinkled.

“That’s what ‘prosaic’ means,” I explained. “Literally, ‘like prose.’ Figuratively it means ‘boring and unromantic.’ So its opposite is ‘poetic.’”

“You and your words.” She rolled her eyes, cheerful again. “But I like poetry. Tell me some now. You know I love listening to you.”

I concentrated for a moment and then thought of something. I cleared my throat and said,

I have a small

girlfriend called

Christy, who is

like a golden

flower

I wouldn’t

take all Croesus’

kingdom with love

thrown in, for her.

“Oh my gosh, that’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Who—?” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Who wrote it?”

“Sappho. I changed it a bit, but it’s pretty close to the original.”

“Is there more?”

“A whole book, one of my favorites.”

“Let’s take it with us next time we go to West Virginia.”

I nodded.

“In the meantime, do you think we could…?” She glanced through the door to the stairs. “You know… maybe…?”

I arched an eyebrow.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? I think you enjoy humiliating me.”

“There’s nothing humiliating about telling me what you want.”

“I know.” She pretended to glare anyway. “Okay, here goes.” She took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “Will you please take me to bed and do naughty things? With your penis and fingers and tongue. And… anything else you want to do.”

My eyebrows rose at the last. “Oh? You have something in mind?”

“Maybe… tie me to the bed?”

“You’re a kinky little thing, aren’t you?”

“I am for you.”

“In that case, I’d love to.”

Several days later, Christy woke me in the middle of the night. It was still dark outside, hours before my internal alarm usually went off. I was lying on my back with her by my side. She had one leg over mine and was massaging my hard-on.

“Tha’ feels nice,” I mumbled.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided you shouldn’t either. Sorry. Except I’m not. I couldn’t stop thinking. About something you said.”

“Uh-oh. Gonna be one of those conversations? All right, gimme a sec. I’ll try to wake up. In the meantime, you wanna—?”

“Yes, please.” She pushed the covers out of the way and made a beeline for my cock. She started sucking without her usual foreplay.

I chuckled. “Been thinkin’ ’bout that for a while?”

She nodded and hummed, “Mmm hmm,” without releasing her lip-lock.

I woke up slowly as she worked me over. She wasn’t in the mood for an extra-long blowjob, so I came after about ten minutes. She swallowed and then rested her head on my stomach as I caught my breath.

“Ready to talk now?” I said at last.

“I… I think so.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It isn’t,” she lied. “It’s just something I was wondering about.”

I decided not to call her on it. “Oh? What?”

“Nothing, really. Only, you said Erin was part of the swinger group.”

“She is. What about it?”

“So… she’s slept with Leah and Mark?”

“Of course. You were there. Before Christmas. But lots of other times too.”

“What about with Wren and Trip?”

“Them too. Over the summer.”

“But… you’ve never actually seen her do it.”

I must’ve been still half-asleep, because I didn’t realize how much I was about to give away. “Having sex? Of course I’ve seen her. Plenty of times.” My eyes snapped open and I fought down a wave of panic. Then I waited. I felt a mixture of relief and dread when Christy laughed softly. She hadn’t run away, but she was still holding the Hughes Lie Detector.

“He just got the message that you’re scared.”

“He’s a treacherous organ,” I said with a touch of genuine resentment.

“That’s what you said.” After a long pause she continued, “If I let him go, will you tell me anyway?”

“To thine own girlfriend be true?” I said. “So now you’re using that against me?”

She started to say something but then thought better of it. “I was going to,” she admitted, “but now I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know… if you think you’re ready for it.”

“That isn’t going to work this time. I’m a lot more comfortable with who I am these days. I don’t know if I ‘found’ myself or you found me and showed me the truth, but either way, I’m not the same as I was back then.” She released my limp manhood and rolled to her back.

I felt another spike of panic but realized she was just giving herself room to think.

“I… want to know,” she said at last. “I think I need to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to ask. Sorry, you can’t just hint about this one.”

“Ugh! You’re so infuriating sometimes!” In spite of her tone, she scooted up and nestled alongside me. She rested her head on my chest and slid her leg over mine, exactly how we’d begun this little tête-à-tête. “I want to know,” she said slowly, deliberately, “about Erin… and you.”

My heart immediately tried to leap out of my chest, but I controlled it and my breathing. Christy must have felt it, because she reassured me with a hand on my chest.

“Before I tell you,” I said when I could speak without a tremor, “this is one of those things I’ve never told anyone. Leah probably suspects most of it, but we’ve never talked about it.”

“Like me and most of my secrets,” Christy said.

“Exactly. Up to now, I’ve told you things other people know. This is different. This is really private.”

“Like me and most of my secrets,” she repeated. Pointedly.

“Yeah, I kinda deserved that.”

“You did.”

I took a deep breath and found an island of calm. “I can do this,” I said, only half joking. “I’m fearless.”

She knew I wasn’t mocking her, so she didn’t say anything.

“Okay, here goes,” I said at last. “Yes, I’ve seen Erin have sex. And yes, I like it. She likes watching me too.”

“What’s it like?” Christy said immediately. “Was it weird?”

“Maybe the first time, but I don’t really remember. I mean, she used to be my bratty little sister, skinny and annoying, a kid. But—”

“Not now.”

“Not for several years,” I agreed. “Now she’s—”

“A woman.”

“Mmm hmm. And—”

“Really sexy.”

I glanced at Christy in the dark. She was reading my mind.

“Do you ever think about… you know?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

“I… don’t know.”

I moved her hand to my resurgent erection. She automatically wrapped her fingers around it. “Ask again,” I said.

“Do you ever think about… doing it… with Erin?”

I didn’t know how my dick would react for real, so I cheated a bit. I squeezed my buttocks and made it swell in her hand.

“Oh my gosh, you do!”

“Yes. Does that make me a pervert?”

She thought about it for an excruciatingly long time. “I don’t know.” She fell silent again, but I could feel her gathering her thoughts. “I’m trying to do what you taught me,” she said at last. “You’ve never, ever made me feel dirty for something I’ve told you.”

“No.”

“And I guess I owe you the same.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything.”

“Yes, I think I do. I’ve… told you some things that are really…” She thought about it. “‘Disgusting’ isn’t the right word. Neither is ‘perverted.’ But… you said ‘taboo.’ We were talking about fantasies.”

“I remember.”

“I didn’t catch it at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it these past few days. I even looked it up in your big dictionary to make sure I knew exactly what it meant.”

“And what did it say?”

“Prohibited or restricted by social custom. As in: incest is taboo.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I could’ve said ‘liking pain’ or ‘sex in public’ or any of the other things I like. They’re all taboo.”

“Yes.”

“But you never called them taboo. You said that about your own fantasies. You were being honest with me, but I didn’t realize it.”

“I’ve always been honest with you.”

“I know. And that’s what makes me trust you, even more than I did before. You won’t lie to me, even now, when I know you want to.”

“I do. I’m scared to death you’re going to—”

She released my hard-on and held me around the middle instead. “Does it feel like I’m going to run away? I told you, nothing you say will ever scare me. That isn’t entirely true,” she admitted, “but I’m trying to control it. And… I need to tell you the truth.” She thought about it and decided on a question: “What happened when you woke up?”

“Tonight? You—” My eyes flew open.

“Mmm hmm,” she said when she felt my reaction. “I’d been thinking about…” She paused to steady her own nerves. “About you and Erin.”

“You pretty much attacked me.”

“I was horny. I wanted to feel you in my mouth.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I like fellatio more than the next girl. A lot more. Well, maybe not Leah or Erin.” She raised her head and looked at my face. “That seems to be a theme with you.”

“What can I say?” I echoed. “I like fellatio more than the next guy. A lot more.”

She sighed with amusement and rested her face on my chest again. Then she stroked my cock, an idle gesture while she thought.

“So,” I ventured, “thinking about me and Erin gets you worked up?”

“You know it does.”

Was I brave enough to ask if she felt the same about her and Laurence? Not yet, I decided. I wasn’t entirely sure, and a vague suspicion wasn’t enough.

“Part of me thinks it’s perverted and disgusting,” she said softly, “but I think that’s my— What’s the thing that flies the plane while we talk?”

“The autopilot.”

“Yeah, that’s it. I think it’s my autopilot. Society says it’s taboo, so that’s what I automatically think. Like when I think I’m supposed to be jealous but I’m not.” She drew breath to say something else but fell silent. She spent a long time thinking before she said, “You said you’re comfortable with your kinky inner life. I can tell. And in a weird way, that’s really attractive.”

“Weird how?”

“Weird because I should be running away. You just told me you want to sleep with your sister! But… it makes me love you more. I mean, now I think I understand why you’ve never made me feel dirty for any of the things I like. You treat me how you’d like to be treated.”

“The Golden Rule.”

“But you’re serious about it. Most people aren’t. They follow ‘social custom’ and condemn people even though they have the same thoughts.”

“They’re hypocrites,” I sneered.

“No, they’re ashamed. Like Sister Prune. I think she was so mean and bitter because she secretly wanted to do the things she was telling us not to. But she was really telling herself that her desires were dirty and disgusting. It didn’t have anything to do with us at all.”

“Probably not.”

She turned thoughtful and eventually said, “I still have some really secret things I want to tell you, things I never thought I’d tell anyone. I’m not ready yet, but you convinced me I should. Sharing things with you makes me feel better about them. They’re out, in the light of day. Not for real, not for everyone to see, but for you and me. And… they aren’t so dark and dirty when we look at them together.”

“That’s how it should be.”

All of a sudden she laughed. “I still think you’re a total pervert. And I’m a total nympho.” She raised her head and turned serious. “But only for each other.”

I brushed back her hair and pulled her up for a kiss. “Only for each other.”

She kissed me again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And… now I really want to marry you.”

“Are you asking me?” I teased.

“No! That isn’t how this works. You’re the man. It’s your job to ask! It’s in the Handbook.”

“I know,” I chuckled. “And I will, when we’re ready.”

“Yeah, we still have a lot to figure out before then.” She nuzzled my neck and kissed my jaw. “I never thought I’d say that. I thought we’d just know. Then it would happen. But instead… it’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Having a grown-up relationship. That’s what Marianne says this is. She said you’re more mature than I am. For the record, you must’ve really impressed her. She’s known me since I was a girl, and she’s always given me advice about my boyfriends. But she’s never liked anyone as much as you. She says you’re good for me, exactly what I need.”

“Oh? And what do you think?”

“I think she’s right. She says I’m growing up. And… I say I’m getting comfortable with my kinky inner life. Like, how I don’t feel guilty when I get excited about you and Erin.”

She kissed my neck again and squirmed closer. “One of my new fantasies is you and her and me at the same time.” She reached down and hummed with desire when she grasped my straining erection. “Her clit in my mouth,” she said softly, “and your cock sliding into me from behind.” She squawked in surprise when I sat up and reached over her. “What’re you doing?”

“Calling Erin.” I fumbled on the nightstand for the phone. “It’s only… 4:08. She’ll be a little annoyed, but—”

“No, you can’t!” Christy bawled. She lunged and banged the receiver into the base with a clang. Then she rolled to her back and looked up at me. “You’re the worst boyfriend ever,” she said fondly. “Except when you’re the best.”

“And you’re the best girlfriend ever.”

“Better than Gina and the others?”

“Better than all of them,” I agreed, “put together.”

“I actually believe you when you say that,” she laughed.

“You should. The evidence is pressing against your hip.”

“He thinks anyone who gives him attention is the best.”

“You know him so well.”

“I do. And I love him almost as much as I love you.”

“Just ‘almost’?”

“He’s a simple penis,” she explained faux-seriously. “He doesn’t have dark secrets and kinky fantasies. He doesn’t share them with me either.”

“He shares other things.”

“Mmm, semen. But that isn’t so special when you think about it. It’s just sperm and fructose and vitamins and minerals. I looked it up once. I can get all that from fruits and vegetables. Well, except the sperm.”

“True.”

“I can’t get love and patience and understanding from them. Or from your penis.”

“No.”

“Which is why I have you, my soulmate.”

“So you think we’re soulmates?”

“I know we are. Marianne, Sabrina, Wren, Brooke, my mother… they all say you’re good for me. Even God agrees.”

“Oh He does, does He?”

“He hasn’t told me directly—that isn’t how He works, duh—but He lets me know in other ways. He also gave me this metabolism and libido. They’re both very high, you know. And He sent you to take care of them. Speaking of which, I’m ready for another snack, the liquid diet kind.” She grinned up at me. “I think I’m going to need lots of attention, too.”

“Oh? What kind of attention?”

“The sixty-nine kind.”

My eyebrows rose.

She nodded and pushed me onto my back. Then she turned like a gymnast and mounted me.

Can’t fault her enthusiasm, I thought with a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she asked over her shoulder. “Never mind. Tell me later. No time to talk. Need to suck.” She captured my erection and began doing just that. Then she wiggled her hips.

I got the message and thrust two fingers into her smooth pussy. I still felt mildly annoyed that we couldn’t sixty-nine for real—her body was too short—but she didn’t seem to care. Instead, she groaned and plunged her lips over my shaft.

She’s right, the little head said, we are soulmates. Oh, God, I love her!

I chuckled again and then fell silent as Christy swirled her tongue around my sensitive glans. She seemed determined to empty my balls in record time, and I was just as determined to keep feeding her until she was satisfied.

Um, the little head said with the first signs of worry, that might never happen. She’s insatiable.

I’m counting on it. Now shut up and do your part.

You’re the boss.

I’m sorry… what was that?

Uh-uh, he said. Nice try. Shut up and do your part too. You need to keep her happy. She’s your future wife.

Right you are, I agreed.

Later that day I called home and wished my mother a happy birthday.

“So,” I said, “how’s it feel to be 42?”

“Good. About like 41.”

“Well, now you know the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything.”

She thought for a moment but then gave up. “Okay, I don’t get it.”

“It’s 42!”

“What is?”

“The answer to the Ultimate Question of Life—”

“Right,” she interrupted. “So, how’re you? How’s Christy?”

“Good and good. Busy with school, projects, the usual. I’m working on…”

I told her about my Japanese building and Christy’s Kanagawa series. Then we talked about her life for a while. She and Erin were still getting along, Dad was flying as much as he could (to pay for the new plane), and she was thinking about repotting her houseplants.

“Maybe you can get Erin to help you,” I said.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I’ll help if she won’t.”

“No, you’re busy with school and your own life.”

“I’m never too busy for you, Mom.”

“Aren’t you sweet.”

“I do need to get off the phone, though. Sorry. I have to finish my elevation drawings and start on my watercolors.”

“I’m proud of you, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom. That means a lot. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We said goodbye and hung up. I bounced off the bed and headed up to my studio, where I settled on my comfortable new drafting stool and looked over my drawings. I was determined to beat Gracie for first in our class. Unfortunately, she was just as talented and worked just as hard. But she worked alone, while I had a secret weapon, a wellspring of talent named Christy.

I smiled and picked up one of her sketches. She left them for me like little love notes. This one was of me sitting at my drafting table like I was at the moment. She’d signed it with her chop, a little stylized “CMC.” I crossed it out and redrew it as a “CMH” instead. Then I pinned it to the wall above my desk with the others. She’d see it eventually, and it would make her smile.

Wren set out two crystal vases after dinner on Monday evening. She fussed over their placement on the dining room table, in case Trip or I had somehow forgotten that the next day was Valentine’s Day.

I toyed with the idea of asking what the vases were for, but Christy read me perfectly. She set her hand on mine and gave me a stern little headshake. I returned it with my best “Who, me?” expression and kept my mouth shut. Household harmony prevailed.

The next day Trip and I spent a small fortune on roses. We both thought it was a bit of a waste, especially since the bouquets were triple the regular price, but we knew better than to return home empty-handed. The girls acted suitably surprised.

“Thank you,” Wren said to Trip as he bent for a kiss. “I have just the spot for them.”

“Really?” I said under my breath. “I’d’ve never known.”

“Be nice,” Christy whispered. Then she smiled as if I hadn’t said anything. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful. I have something special for you, but it’s for later.”

“Trip, sweetheart,” Wren said, “will you fix drinks while I put the finishing touches on dinner?”

“You got it, babe.”

In usual Wren fashion, dinner was a sumptuous experience: quail stuffed with figs and prosciutto, mushroom risotto, and pan-roasted Brussels sprouts.

“Don’t worry, my love,” she said as she set a quail on Christy’s plate, “I made a special stuffing for you. Sautéed shiitake mushrooms instead of prosciutto.”

“Sorry for the trouble,” Christy said.

“No trouble at all. I enjoy experimenting with you.”

“I thought that was my job,” I quipped. “Oh, wait… I’m supposed to experiment on her. Never mind.”

Christy rolled her eyes but then lowered them and smiled.

“That isn’t all you’re supposed to do,” Wren said with a pointed look.

Christy cleared her throat and pretended to straighten her silverware. “You promised,” she said, deceptively mild.

Wren didn’t get chastised very often, and her reaction was so quick that I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Trip watched with his own well-hidden amusement. Then he shot me a grin and changed the subject by lifting his wineglass.

“What should we toast to?”

“To our future happiness,” I said, “with the most intelligent, talented, ambitious women we know.”

“You forgot beautiful and sexy.”

“Hear, hear!”

Wren thanked me with a little nod, and Christy beamed. We clinked our glasses and drank.

The food was delicious and the conversation steered clear of Christy’s and my sex life, much to her relief. Wren was on her best behavior until after we finished dessert and a bottle of rosé champagne. Then she and Trip said an early goodnight.

She kissed my cheek and whispered, “Just do it already. This weekend.” She gave me another quick peck and pulled back with a guileless smile for Christy’s benefit.

They headed upstairs, and I put my arm around Christy. She waited until they were out of earshot.

“Did she—?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Ugh!” She stomped her foot. “I’m going to wring her neck.”

“Eh, she is the way she is, and we can’t change her. In many ways, she’s super-considerate, like your dinner tonight. In other ways…”

“She’s a nosy, meddling, sex-crazed pain in the you-know-what. That’s what she is.”

“She’s also your girlfriend,” I chuckled.

“Sometimes I wonder why.”

“Because you love her.”

“Don’t use logic against me.”

“Note to self…,” I teased. “Now, tell me about this surprise you have for me.”

She smiled and stretched upward for a kiss. “Come upstairs in about ten minutes?” She thought about it and shook her head. “Better make it twenty.”

“How about thirty?”

“You know me so well.”

“I do.”

“Not till the wedding,” she said with a grin. Then, “Fix yourself a glass of whiskey and then bring one up for me. Better make it neat, though. Um… just because.”

“Got it. Two neat whiskeys in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, please.” She gave me another kiss and then shot me a sultry look over her shoulder when I swatted her behind.

I cooled my heels and flipped through a couple of magazines as the muted sounds of Trip’s special Valentine’s mix tape filtered through the ceiling. The master bedroom was right above the living room and octagon room, and I smiled to myself at the thought of what was going on there. Then the water hammer announced that Christy was finished in the bathroom. I gave her another ten minutes before I poured the drinks and headed up.

“I was beginning to wonder,” she said when I knocked softly and opened the door.

Candles filled the room with a warm glow, and Christy had arranged herself on the bed. She wore a little red bra and panty set that was mostly straps, with satin bows to cover her nipples and bush (if she’d had one). She’d even painted her toenails to match.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” I said as I set the glasses on the nightstand.

“Thank you.”

“Are you my surprise?”

“Sort of, but not entirely.”

I followed her glance to the corner of the bed and felt my eyebrows shoot up. She had set out Wren’s Polaroid camera, a fresh pack of film, and a tube of lipstick.

“I’m feeling very naughty, Mr. Photographer,” she said playfully.

I began pulling off my clothes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Really?” She gave me a flat stare. “It’s obvious. But you’re still going to make me ask?”

“Okay,” I chuckled, “you win.”

“Ugh, this was so much sexier in my head.”

“Fantasies usually are.”

“In that case…” She bounced to her feet and towered over me as she stood on the bed.

I tossed my boxers toward the hamper and put my hands on her waist.

“I hope you don’t mind the Polaroid,” she said as she gazed down at me. “I know you have a nicer camera, but I’m a little scared that someone at the photo place might make copies.”

“I know a discreet lab,” I said. “I’ve done this before.”

Her eyes flashed. “Really? With who? Can I see?”

“No. Just like I won’t show your pictures to anyone else.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Mmm hmm. Privacy is a two-way street. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She grinned down at me and changed the subject. “I like being taller than you.”

“I like it too.” I closed my teeth on one of the bows covering her nipple. Unfortunately, it was sewn instead of tied.

“Hold on,” Christy laughed. She reached behind her back and released the bra. Then she tossed it aside and rested her arms on my shoulders. “Better?”

“Much.” I sucked one nipple and then the other. Her sighs turned into insistent whimpers when I ran a hand up her thigh and discovered that her panties were crotchless. I teased her freshly shaved pussy as she continued to squirm.

“Oh my gosh, you have to stop,” she panted at last. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“No. You’re supposed to come first. After you take pictures.”

“Ah, okay. Then you’d better get on your knees.”

“Lipstick first! Don’t forget that.”

I lifted her off the bed and set her on the floor. She brushed my erection on the way down.

“Ooh, someone’s ready,” she said. “Now, you be patient, Mr. Big. I have to put my lipstick on first. Then I’ll put yours on. Are you excited? I am!”

She uncapped the tube and made a show of turning the base until the red lipstick extended completely.

“I wonder if I can sculpt it to look like a penis,” she said idly. “Then you can ‘call me madam.’”

I chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“You know what that means, right? ‘Madam’?”

“It’s like ‘missus,’ isn’t it?”

“Usually. But in this case it’s the woman who runs a brothel.”

Her eyes flew comically wide.

“Mmm hmm. Xaviera Hollander was a famous madam. That’s why she called her book The Happy Hooker.”

“Oh my gosh! I read her column but never realized…,” Christy said. Then she paused for a moment, gave me a mysterious little grin, and deliberately applied a thick coat of lipstick. “I just thought of a new fantasy,” she said as she capped the tube, sank to her knees, and lined herself up with my erection.

“Oh?”

“I’ll be your happy hooker. I’ll wear a skimpy top, a really short skirt, and fishnet stockings. No underwear, of course. But later. Right now I need to suck. Mmm, penis and Polaroids. I can’t wait to see what we look like!” She glanced up and gestured impatiently. “Come on, Mr. Photographer, get with the program. We’re ready. Why aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckled as I grabbed the camera. “Excuse me. Yes, madam.”

“Much better. Now, where were we? Oh, yes… penis!”

On Friday we packed our things for a weekend in Snowshoe. I wasn’t entirely looking forward to it, but that was mostly because I was going to spend a pile of money on new skis and boots when the ones I had worked fine. I could afford it, easily, but that wasn’t the point. I was still brooding when we took off, but Christy was in her own little world. She finally said something around the time we crossed the West Virginia border, but it wasn’t even close to what I expected.

“Okay, so how exactly does this girlfriend thing work? I mean, you said Wren’s my girlfriend, just like you’re my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to decide if I can do something or not? I don’t need Wren’s permission if I want to do anything with you. So why should I need your permission to do things with her? That hardly seems fair. You’re always preaching about a double standard for men and women. So, Mr. Equal Rights, how’s it work when I want to do something with Wren? And for the record, I’m talking about sex.”

I blinked and completely forgot my funk. Then I spent a long moment simply replaying the question in my head and working through the Christy-logic.

“Well?” she said when I still hadn’t answered. “Do I need your permission or not?”

“To have sex with Wren?”

“Yes.”

“Um… no.”

“You make it sound like a question,” she accused.

“I just thought the answer was obvious.”

“Well, it isn’t to me!”

“Fair enough. But… is there a reason you’re looking for an argument?”

“’Cause we’re going to have one if you tell me I need to ask you every time I want to fool around with Wren.”

“Oh, okay. The answer’s still no.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We aren’t going to have an argument because you don’t need my permission to have sex with Wren.”

She narrowed her eyes and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Really,” I said. “That’s it.”

“Just like that?” she said, still primed to argue.

“Just like that.”

“So… I can do anything I want with her? And you won’t say no?”

“You don’t need my permission, remember?”

“Oh, right! Sorry. Hold on, why’m I apologizing?”

I shrugged and tried to look virtuous.

“This isn’t funny.”

“No. But it sort of is.”

She answered with a glare that eventually turned uncertain. “I thought we were going to have a fight.”

“I could tell.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too. We probably should’ve talked about it sooner, but… I guess I take my lifestyle for gran—”

“Our lifestyle.”

“Right, sorry. Our lifestyle.” I glanced at her sideways. “I need to remind myself that you’re still learning. What seems obvious to me might not be to you.”

“Okay, now that you mention it… What if I find something I don’t like? About our lifestyle?”

“Then we’ll do things differently.”

“Ugh! You’re really messing with my head. You aren’t supposed to give me straight answers like that. Besides, you’re the man. We’re supposed to do things your way.”

“Why? Because that’s the way your parents do it?”

“As a matter of fact, yes! What my father says goes. Don’t give me that look, Mr. Skeptical Eyebrow! He’s in charge.”

“Oh?” I said blandly.

“Don’t ‘oh’ me! He is.”

“Like when Rich had to take Home Ec… because your father made him?”

“No, my mother did. You know—”

“Or when you hung out at Lani and Peter’s house… because your father said it was okay?”

“Fine! I get it. My mother runs things, but only behind the scenes.” She crossed her arms and scowled. “I suppose you expect me to stay behind the scenes too.”

I gave her a long, calm look. “What’s gotten into you? Why’re you spoiling for a fight? Did I do something? Did Wren?”

She started to snap a reply but swallowed it instead. Then she took a deep breath and visibly tried to calm down. “No,” she said at last. “I don’t know why— No, I do. I just don’t want to admit it.” She uncrossed her arms and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her jeans. “I’m scared. And maybe a little guilty.”

I waited for her to explain.

“I never in a million years thought I’d have a relationship like ours. I didn’t even know they existed. I thought I’d meet a guy, get married, hide my past, and live like my parents. Like Harry and Marianne. Like James and Lynne. Like pretty much everyone else I’ve ever known. I’d stay home and raise kids while my husband went off and had a career. And that’s… just the way it would be.

“In a weird way, that would’ve made sense. I grew up thinking that was normal. But then I met you, and my life hasn’t been the same since. I like the way it’s changed, but… what if you and I don’t…?”

“Make it work?”

She nodded glumly.

“I think we will.”

“Yeah, but you’re an optimist about everything.”

“Not everything, but as far as you and I are concerned…? Yeah, pretty much.”

She ventured a smile. “Thanks. But that’s part of the reason I feel guilty.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want to go back to my old life. I like doing things with you. But it goes against everything I grew up believing.”

I thought for a moment and automatically scanned the airspace and instruments. Christy didn’t fidget, but she visibly relaxed when I returned my attention to her.

“You remember the other night?” I said. “With the lipstick and Polaroids?”

“How could I forget?”

“Remember how you said it was so much sexier in your head? Well, life’s like that too. It’s always simpler in your head.”

“You can say that again.”

“You and I have an unconventional relationship. It seems simple in your head, but it’s not. It’s also new, especially to you, but to me too. I grew up expecting to have a relationship like my parents’. That might not work for us.”

“Then what’re we supposed to do? I love your parents. Mine too, don’t get me wrong, but… I don’t want to be like them either. Especially now that I know there’s something different.”

“You might be surprised. I mean, you and your mother have the same metabolism, right? Maybe the same libido too?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

I did my best to suppress Mr. Skeptical Eyebrow, but she saw me holding back.

“My mother is a good Catholic, not some… sex fiend.”

“Who says she can’t be both? After all, she had six children. And you said it yourself, she makes little innuendos all the time.”

“But… she can’t be like me. I’m a freak. The black sheep of the family. The weird one.”

“Are you sure about that? The apple fell far from the tree?”

“Stop messing with my head.”

“I’m not messing with your head,” I said gently. “I’m just making you… question your assumptions.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” she grumped.

“Look,” I said after a moment, “all I’m saying is that you aren’t that different from your parents. You’re most like your mom, but sometimes you’re so much like your dad that I want to salute and call you ‘sir.’”

She glared, but without any real anger.

“And it’s okay to be like them. It’s okay to be your own woman, too. They raised you to use the brains God gave you.”

“I know,” she said eventually. “I just feel guilty for how happy I am. And sometimes I think I shouldn’t be.”

“Guilty or happy?”

“Both?”

I snorted a laugh.

“I told you, I’m pretty mixed-up.”

“We all are. Lucky for us—”

“—we’re mixed-up the same way.”

We shared a smile and then fell silent. I glanced at the navigation radios and took the plane off autopilot to begin our descent into Elkins.

“Thank you for loving me,” Christy said. “And for being patient. And for putting up with my crazy doubts and fears.”

“All part of the package. But they aren’t crazy. They’re pretty normal.” I waited a moment to let that sink in. Then I ventured, “Do you mind if I ask what started all this? I mean, something to do with you and Wren.”

“You probably figured it out.”

“You had sex with her and were feeling guilty?”

“You know me so well.”

“You wanna tell me about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… now I’m curious.”

“It wasn’t anything special. Well, it was, but you know what I mean. It wasn’t special-special, like the Polaroids or the things we do at the inn. It was just… the usual.” She glanced at me sideways to judge my reaction.

When I didn’t explode, she continued, “She’s been bugging me since we got back from Tahoe. At first I put her off because you and I had just moved in together. Then because we’ve all been so busy with school and stuff. Also… ’cause I sort of felt like I needed to ask your permission or something.”

I shook my head.

“Now it seems silly, but at the time…?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“Anyway, we sort of celebrated after I finished the sketches and her maquette. You were at judo and Trip was in class, and… one thing led to another.”

“Makes sense.”

“And then I’ve been sketching Delilah for the past week. She’s so beautiful and open about her body that I kinda think about… you know. And oh my gosh, Paul! Some of my fantasies would make the letters in Penthouse seem tame. I get the sense that she’s like me, but I can’t come right out and ask her. So I get all worked up and…” She shot me a glance.

“Wren and I’ve been meeting in Siobhan’s office after Delilah leaves,” she admitted. “There’s a couch there, and we… um… you know.” She jumped when I burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“Trip thought she was working late on her honors thesis.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. And I let you think I was sketching Delilah. I sort of was, but… not really. I guess that means I lied to you.”

“A lie by omission, although not really. I never asked. I just assumed.”

That was a preview of Kinky Confessions: Summer Camp Christy Series Book 4 (Director's Cut). To read the rest purchase the book.

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