“It must have been lonely,” said Ashley.

“I didn’t think so,” said Mara.

“Yeah,” said Ashley. “But you got out.” The irony struck them, and they both laughed again.

“It’s a long con,” said Mara.

“To harvest my organs.”

“Surprise.”

Ashley unbuttoned her shirt. “Okay.”

“Funny. You’re so funny.”

But Ashley caught Mara’s wrist in her hand, and brought the hand to her breast. Now they were both very still.

“Okay,” said Ashley.

Mara didn’t know what she meant.

“Touch me,” said Ashley. “Whatever you want. Do anything to me. Please.”

“I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to . . .” Mara stopped herself. “I’m not using you like that. I don’t want to.”

Though they were always together now, and often touching, they touched like puppies, not lovers. Drawn to warmth and comfort, not hunger. Not exploration. Mara had not forgotten the taste of Ashley’s mouth, her skin, but it seemed like the memory belonged to someone else. Or maybe it was this distance from the past, this imaginary distance, that allowed Mara to lie beside Ashley at all without sinking back into the shame she felt about the times they had been together before. She wasn’t sure what felt worse, the idea that Ashley had kissed her for television or the idea that Ashley had kissed her because she felt that she had to. Both were unthinkable. Better to pretend that the whole thing had happened to someone else. And wasn’t that true? Weren’t they different women now?

“I won’t,” Mara said again. “I’m not using you.”

“You’re not using me,” said Ashley. “I’m using you.”

“Ashley.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

Mara hadn’t moved her hand from Ashley’s breast. Her whole body felt frozen, electric.

“Yes,” said Mara.

Ashley leaned forward and kissed Mara gently, gently, on the lips. Her mouth parted, her breath shared. Then she lay back on the bed and unbuttoned the rest of her shirt.

“I don’t think . . .” said Mara, and then she stopped, because she couldn’t think at all.

“Good,” said Ashley. “Don’t think.”

“You want this?”

“I do.”

And so Mara touched her.

She traced her finger down Ashley’s shoulder, down her collarbone and up her neck to the smooth base of her throat. The curve of her stomach, the satin skin. She raised Ashley’s arms above her head and ran her hands down them, down her sides to her hips, peeled off the old jeans, every part of her raw and new from a million scrapes healing. She felt Ashley’s hip bones in her hands; she massaged the length of her legs. She ran her fingers through fluffs of hair. There was nothing left on their bodies to hide. Mara traced the space between her fingers, licked her thighs and her wrists. She tasted her lips and sucked her tongue.

For a while, for a small and endless while, they found something like peace.

LATER, ASHLEY LAY IN MARA’S ARMS AND EVERY PART OF HER WAS STILL.