“I’m straight,” Odilie answered without having to think too much about it. She had never had sexual feelings toward women, had never felt lust. Sure, she envied a girl for her looks, her grace, but that had never translated to wanting to derive pleasure from her.

Odilie didn’t mind the question, though she thought she would have if it had tumbled out of anyone else’s mouth.

Peri always came over to Odilie’s, saying she didn’t want to have to deal with her boyfriend, that he always had colleagues over, his work strewn all over the place. That was why they were in Wyneck in the first place; Peri’s boyfriend was some businessman whose biggest investor summered here, too. Odilie accepted this without question.

“I feel comfy here,” she said to Odilie on more than one occasion. “Comfy with you, like I can be myself, spread out. Sometimes it just feels so suffocating over there, like I only exist as a mirror, an object that can reflect those men’s worth.”

Kitty, of course, did question Peri’s presence, especially on the mornings when Peri appeared in the kitchen, fisting handfuls of blueberries that Kitty had bought specifically for a batch of pancakes. “Is she paying rent?” Kitty asked Odilie icily, cornering her in the living room.

Odilie rolled her eyes. “She’s my guest. Have some respect, please. I had to unclog the shower for her to use it last night and all the hair was yours.” Kitty gasped at Odilie’s tone, the cruel, spiteful way she spoke back.

“What has gotten into you?” she huffed, marching into her own bedroom and slamming the door in Odilie’s face. In a different life, when Odilie had been a doormat, she would have cared. She would have groveled for Kitty’s forgiveness. Now, she couldn’t even try to care.

One day Odilie and Peri stood in front of Odilie’s bathroom mirror naked after a swim. Peri’s skin glistened from the sun, her breasts high and taut, her legs toned, the calves slender and defined. With not a drop of makeup on, Peri looked exquisite, edible almost, her skin so smooth and clear that it reminded Odilie of frosting.

It was hard not to compare herself, to stand next to this woman who seemed so self-possessed in her own nudity. Peri didn’t even seem to be aware that she was standing in front of a mirror, her crotch waxed, her ass curved and high and supple. She was simply drying her hair with the towel, rubbing it fiercely through her long brunette mane, her eyes shielded by the terry cloth.