Vanessa smiled kindly at her, but they were stuck now. Certainly this woman could sense the tension. Couldn’t she feel the way the space shifted as she intruded into this world of theirs?

The elevator’s bell dinged and Vanessa calmly led the way down the hall, stopping in front of room 408. Vanessa opened the door with her key, and they walked across the threshold.

Joan loved the sound of the thick door clasping shut, all of its locks falling heavily into place. Had anything sounded better?

“Come here,” Vanessa said.

Joan rushed to her. Vanessa put her arms around Joan and the two of them fell onto the bed.

Vanessa put her hands on the top button of Joan’s shirt.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Take off all my clothes, Joan thought. What had felt so necessary her entire life—to cover up—felt so restrictive now. She wanted everything gone. Her clothes, Vanessa’s.

Joan lay back on the bed as Vanessa took off her own shirt and then lay on top of her, Vanessa’s necklace hitting Joan’s chest. Joan kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her pants.

To touch Vanessa’s bare skin with her own seemed vital, crucial. She’d never wanted anything more.

Vanessa took off Joan’s bra and the cold edge of the air hit Joan’s chest and the warmth of Vanessa’s hand sent Joan into a shudder. Joan closed her eyes. She could not allow herself to question any of this, could not let the part of her brain in charge of judgment light up. There could be no embarrassment or shyness or hesitation. Not if she was going to get what she wanted. Not now.

She had to exist only in the base of her brain, the heavy putty of her heart. And so she put everything away except Yes, and I want, and More, please.

She instead focused on the buzz in her chest, the warmth and lightness of her lower belly.

If Joan had listened to what was happening outside that room, she would have heard people walking by in the hallway and the sounds of the waves outside the window. But all she could hear was the beat of her own pulse and the sound coming out of the base of Vanessa’s throat. Then, soon, all she could hear was her own voice saying, over and over again, “Oh.”

What ran through Joan made her call out, in a tone she did not recognize. And a thick peace overtook her.

Self-consciousness dared to creep up, but Joan would not let it. Not now. Not yet. Don’t take this from me.

Did she fumble? Was she unsure of how to move and what to do? Yes, yes, of course. She did not care. For the first time in Joan’s life, she knew how it felt to give in to someone and let go.

—