Addison looked up, shaking her head as she struggled to find the words. “Last...last night when I got home, Joanna and I got into a row. Things got...they got really heated, and we ended up...” Addison stopped, bowing her head again. “It just happened so fast. One minute we were shouting at each other and the next...the next I had her on the bed.”

Fran stared blankly back at Addison. While her confession was surprising, Fran couldn’t see the problem. Joanna was of consenting age, and even though she was straight, straight women had switched teams before, even if only for a night or two. Taking her time, Fran replayed Addison’s words in her head, trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle, and then slowly the rest of the color drained from her face. “Wait a minute,” she said, holding up her hands. “What do you mean you had her on the bed? Jesus Christ, Addison, please don’t tell me...don’t tell me you forced her.”

“I...I don’t know,” Addison said, her voice sinking to a whisper.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Fran said, jumping to her feet. “It’s a yes or no answer, Addison. Either you did, or you didn’t. Now, which is it?”

Addison looked back at Fran. “I told you, it happened so fast—”

“Did she say no?”

“What?”

“Did she say no?” Fran yelled, pounding her hands on the desk. “Did she tell you to stop or get out or get off? Did she say no?”

“Um...I-I-I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so!” Fran said, rocking back on her heels. “You don’t think so!”

“It just...it was so fast. We were angry and screaming and...and then we were on the bed. You have to believe me, Fran, if I had known...if I had thought—”

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“Fuck!” Addison said, pounding her hands on her desk. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Fran’s stomach began to roll. There was obviously more to the story and cringing, she said, “What aren’t you telling me?”

Addison sagged her chair. “I think...I think it was her first time.”

“Of course it was her first time, you bloody idiot! She was straight until she married you!”

“No, I mean...I mean when I got back to my room and...and took off my shirt, I noticed I saw a spot on my sleeve, and then I remembered she had...she had cried out when—”

“Enough!” Fran said, throwing up her hands. “Jesus Christ, Addison, what have you done? What have you bloody done?”

Addison struggled to breathe, the guilt so overwhelming it felt as if her chest was in a vice. “I...I don’t...I don’t know what to say. I...I don’t know what to do.”