“I’ll see what I can do.” Mia tried not to tear herself away from Lou’s caress while she slipped out of her jeans, but her skin lost contact with Lou’s fingertip for a brief moment, a moment during which all the cells in her body screamed for her to reestablish a connection immediately. As though Lou touching her was the new norm. As though her body could no longer live without Lou’s touch.

Mia had taken off her underwear in the process, and she lay on her side facing Lou, who was still wearing her bra and soaked panties. But Mia relished the thought that she hadn’t seen Lou completely naked yet, that there would still be something to discover later.

“Yes, this has done wonders for my strength.” Lou became bolder, zeroing in on Mia’s nipple, her finger hovering, then touching down lightly, leaving it hard and wanting.

“I can tell.” Mia was about to run out of words, or perhaps the strength to speak. She needed wordlessness now, a silence that could consume her and speak for her at the same time. She scooted closer to Lou, wanting to feel much more than that fingertip that already stirred so much in her. Even though Lou had asked her to take charge, Mia had no desire to steer this moment. This was Lou’s moment to express herself, to show to Mia, but most of all to herself, what desire looked like when it took hold of her. Was her desire for Mia as great as Mia’s was for her? Mia didn’t think it possible. But perhaps that was because Lou’s finger was beginning to drive her crazy, push her past a point of no return, a point where no other thoughts were possible.

Mia examined Lou’s face. She was biting her bottom lip as if she was concentrating really hard, or contemplating her next move, or perhaps even doubting it. And this was the beauty of moments like this, when you didn’t know someone else very well yet, but there was promise between you, and the thoughts in the other woman’s mind were still made up of possibilities instead of disappointments. Mia hadn’t made it past many moments like this, and the times that she had, she’d felt herself retreat as soon as she’d crossed that invisible line. What if she was still ugly on the inside? What if she had somehow found a way to rid herself of any outward signs of the juvenile monster that she had been, but what if remnants of it still loomed deep inside, waiting for the right moment to pounce?