She jolted. Fen snatched her hand away. “Sorry! Was that not—”

“Just startled,” Pat managed. She could hardly breathe with the thought she’d spoiled this. “Novice, remember?”

“Shall I not do that?”

“No! That is, yes. I mean, please don’t not do that.”

Fen’s eyes lit with laughter. “So, just to be sure, you definitely don’t want me to not stop continuing?”

“Oh, shut up.” Pat swatted her behind.

Fen squeaked, and then narrowed her eyes menacingly. “Excuse me, who’s the schoolmistress here? You need to listen to my sage advice.”

“I’m sure it’s extremely sensible,” Pat managed. Fen’s hand was roaming again, sliding up over the cloth to the opening of her drawers. Fen was going to touch her there, and Pat’s heart was thundering with alarm and glory and anticipation. They both inhaled sharply as a finger touched a curl of hair.

“Oh Lord,” Pat whispered. Her hand was clenching convulsively on nothing, and Fen’s free hand came to hold it, interlacing their fingers. Fen’s face was close, with an intently serious look in her pansy-brown eyes, and Pat breathed into the sensation of exploring fingers sliding up and down, touching her, thumb brushing over curls, a finger sliding even more intimately close. Pat didn’t even know a name for the place Fen touched that made her gasp, but she was well aware how it worked and she let her legs relax and widen, giving Fen’s fingers access to stroke and circle. Tiny circles, a repetitive movement that was just what Pat would have done for herself but a thousand times better because it was Fen’s touch, Fen’s breath hot on her skin.

Pat realised she was moaning, little mewling noises in her throat. She stopped herself with a stab of self-consciousness, but Fen’s finger slid up and down, slick and wet now, and she forgot about anything but the building need, the familiar cresting wave of pleasure.

“Oh, I do want to see you enjoy yourself,” Fen whispered. “Please do.”

Pat couldn’t have spoken if she’d had anything to say. Her whole consciousness was narrowed to the point where Fen’s fingers and thumb were working, concentrating on reaching that elusive, glorious peak. She clutched Fen’s hand; Fen gave a breathy whimper, and Pat spasmed against her fingers, unthinking and untrammelled, rubbing fiercely up to prolong the pleasure as she reached the peak and her body clenched tight with throbbing joy.

She sank back onto the bed, mouth open. Fen was looking into her face and her expression washed away any nascent second thoughts or fears, because she looked enchanted.

“Oh,” she said, and curled to kiss her. Pat kissed her back, brain still slow with the aftershocks of that glorious feeling, and slid her hand over Fen’s backside with more confidence now. “Mph. How lovely.”