Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

For a brief description of what takes place in each of the previous chapters, visit this page.

For a list of the characters from the story you are now reading, visit this page. 

For a list of the characters from the previous two stories that you will encounter here as well, visit this page.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

by Rachael Yukey

Chapter 21

I never needed love before
Until I met you girl
A girl like you I have never seen
You came into my life like a whirlwind girl
You let me know what loving really means
Def Leppard, 1981

Mallory approached the machine shed for the second time that day, carrying one of the wicker baskets her mom left behind when she moved out all those years ago, a kitchen towel draped over the top. It occurred to her to wonder if the basketful of food combined with the faded red hoodie she’d donned to stave off the unseasonable chill might make her a target for big bad wolves. A smile touched the corners of her mouth.

She’d just laid a hand on the door handle when an obnoxious rattle-clack that she couldn’t quite place began to emanate from within. Frowning, she opened the door and slipped through. Her eyes followed her ears, fixing themselves upon the source of the racket. Julie was pushing an engine hoist across the shop, the grind of steel casters on concrete reverberating throughout the cavernous building.

Breaking into a trot, Mallory crossed the floor, came up alongside Julie and placed her free hand on the hoist’s central steel pillar.

Julie paused, the heavy implement clattering to a halt. “Now hold on there, preggers. Don’t go straining yourself. I’ve got it.”

“Relax, spazzatron. I’m just adding a little extra oomph. You’re still doing most of the work.”

Julie shrugged, set her shoulders and resumed her trek across the cement. With Mallory lending her weight, they rapidly traversed the shop floor to the corner where the faded green tractor lurked. Mallory tried to recall when her dad had actually acquired the damn thing. If she remembered right, she’d have been no more than twelve or thirteen.

“Okay, time out,” Mallory instructed her partner. “Get yourself washed up. Since you didn’t come back in, I brought you a late lunch.” With that, she made her way across the floor to the desk where her dad had spent so many hours perusing his repair manuals. Julie, she noted, had tucked the office chair back where it belonged. A thick volume sat open on the desk, a parts breakdown visible on the page.

Mallory set the basket down on the desk. Taking care not to lose Julie’s place in the book, she flipped the cover back to get a peek at the title, raising mental eyebrows at the realization that she was looking at a brand-new copy of the official John Deere repair manual for the Model R. Then she spied a smaller book, also obviously new, tucked beneath the open front cover of the repair manual. Mallory hefted “The Ultimate Do-It-Yourself Guide to Rebuilding and Restoring Deere Two-Cylinder Tractors”, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

Julie was ambling across the shop, hands and forearms freshly scrubbed, carrying the metal stool Mallory’s father had always used when working on equipment. She plunked it down next to the desk, a sheepish grin overtaking her lips at the sight of the book in Mallory’s hand.

“Just thought it’d be fun to get the engine running, huh?” Mallory managed a stern expression, but couldn’t quite keep the mirth out of her voice. Setting the book back on the desk, she eased herself into the old office chair.

Julie let out a snort of laughter as she settled onto the stool. “Okay, so I might or might not have stopped by the John Deere dealer in Johnstown while you were going through the used records in that thrift store. And—you know, maybe I picked up some literature.”

Mallory removed the threadbare maroon hand towel she’d used to cover the food, then took out a plastic container of roast beef sandwiches with gouda cheese. Setting this on the desk, she reached in again and came up with a thermos of hot, sweet herbal tea and two tin cups. As she poured, Julie pried the lid off the box of sandwiches. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “Looks great.”

“There’s an apple and a granola bar each in the basket,” Mallory remarked, accepting the sandwich Julie offered her.

“You’re too good to me,” said Julie. She bit into a sandwich, chewed, swallowed. “Yummy.”

Mallory jerked a thumb in the direction of the aged tractor that had captured Julie’s interest. “What do you need the hoist for? I thought you were just going to clean up the fuel system and then try to pull-start it.”

Julie shrugged as she swallowed another bite. That awkward grin was on her face again. “Oh, I sort of got it into my head that maybe I should just do the thing right and figure out what’s wrong with the pony engine. Which is tucked way up in under the hood, just forward of the fuel tank. It’ll be a lot easier to get at if I take the hood off. I need the hoist to lift the hood, then to pull the pony engine if I decide it needs to come out.”

“You really think you can make it go? I’m pretty sure the thing’s been parked in that corner for fifteen years or thereabouts. Hell, I don’t know if it was even running when Dad brought it home. It might have been sitting unused way longer than that.”

“If everything I’ve read about these old two-popper Johnnies is true, it’ll probably fire up if the diesel is clean and the engine isn’t frozen. I’ve cleaned up the fuel delivery system for the big engine and drained the tank. I just need to get fresh diesel in it and figure out how to get it started.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I think I’ll try to fix the pony engine before I resort to a pull-start. I just wish there was more guidance available.”

Mallory’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that what this is for?” she said, indicating the service manual still open on the table.

Julie made a face. “The damn thing kind of makes the assumption that you’re a John Deere tech who’s got training and experience with this kind of equipment. It’s got good parts breakdowns, but that’s about it. I’m getting better info from this.” She tapped the restoration guidebook. “Also some internet forums. I’ve joined three of them since yesterday evening.”

Mallory burst out laughing. “Just want to see if the engine will start, my ass.”

“I’m getting it figured out,” said Julie with a wave of her hand. “It’d be nice if the info on these things wasn’t so scattered around. Someone should make a video tutorial or something.”

“Isn’t this where your master’s degree in engineering saves the day?”

Julie let out a peal of laughter. “I’m the one who’s always saying you shouldn’t be an engineer if you’re not at least a decent mechanic. Guess it’s time to prove myself, huh?”

Polishing off the first of her sandwiches, Mallory plucked one of the apples from the basket, taking a big bite. Juice sprayed on her chin. “Jesus,” she muttered around the mouthful of fruit, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

She swallowed, then spoke. “On another note, I’m going to Grandma’s house tomorrow morning. I told her I had something to talk to her about, and she invited us to brunch. Think you can tear yourself away from whatever the hell this is long enough to dig into some Eggs Benedict?”

Julie selected a second sandwich from the plastic box. “Since when did I ever turn down Paulette’s Eggs Benedict?”

Mallory nodded. “I figured, but I didn’t know if you’d want to be around when I ask her about Mom. Thought I’d offer you an out.”

Julie seemed lost in thought for a moment. “I’m fine with it, but will she be less likely to talk if I’m there?”

“I don’t think so. She’s always treated you like a granddaughter.”

“She sure has.” Conversation lapsed, the two women taking simple joy in the food and each other’s company. They were long since past the need to fill every silence.

“When do you want to tell your folks about the baby?” said Mallory, after she had polished off her second sandwich.

“Well, I was thinking this evening, but I just found out from Lisa that Vicky’s going to a sleepover. So if we want to tell all three of them together—”

“A sleepover? Please tell me it’s not those same silly bitches that messed with her head last time.”

Julie laughed, placing her free hand on Mallory’s arm. The other clutched a chocolate chip granola bar. “Easy, mama bear. Sometimes I think you’re even more protective of Vicky than I am. She has to pick her own battles.”

Mallory turned her eyes to the ceiling. “I know it.”

Julie shoved the last of her granola into her mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Anyway, I’d rather just do it once. So we’ll wait a day or two.”

“Works for me.” Mallory waved her own half-eaten bar in the direction of the tractor and hoist. “Why don’t you make a video tutorial?”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t really done anything yet, right? Just flushed out some fuel lines. So we’ve got your phone, my phone, and a full-on digital camcorder back at the house. Set up a few different angles, and anything you actually have to take apart and fix, talk about it while you work. Document the whole thing. Stick it on YouTube. If you think there needs to be a video guide, just fucking make one.”

A slow smile was spreading across Julie’s face. “Did you know you’re a genius, babe?”

“Sure, but I can always use the affirmation. Say it a couple more times, will you?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “I withdraw the compliment.”

“Anyway,” Mallory went on, “I can help you with the video part. I can even be your lovely assistant when you need one. For instance, those sheet metal hoods really aren’t all that heavy, just awkward. Do you really need the hoist to lift it off?”

“By myself I do—oh. I get you!”

Mallory pushed herself out of the chair. “I helped Dad take the hood off of the 1586 a few times; it was way bigger than that thing. I’ll run back to the house and grab the cam and tripod. Back in five!”

***

Two heads swiveled at the light rap on Crissy Moen’s bedroom door, one blonde and curly, the other straight and pink. Vicky and Crissy were sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through pictures of dresses using a laptop perched on Crissy’s thighs. Crissy was planning ahead for homecoming.

“I know it’s months away, and I don’t have a date yet,” she’d told Vicky with a laugh, “but whoever asks me is going with the best-dressed bitch at the dance!”

Another knock. “Come in,” Crissy called out. The door swung open, Crissy’s mom standing on the threshold.

“Patty’s here,” said Triniti Moen, beckoning to someone waiting in the hall. Patricia Spisak stepped into view. Tall with hair the color of walnut, thin to the point of gangliness, Patty was retiring and self-conscious at the best of times. Just now she looked like a mouse meeting the gaze of a hungry tomcat.

“Hey, Pats!” said Crissy, a wide grin cracking her face.

Vicky raised her hand and gave a somewhat more restrained smile. “Hey,” she said.

Triniti’s face creased in a frown. “What are you girls listening to?” She waved her hand at the bluetooth speakers on Crissy’s dresser, from which snarling guitars powered by a ferocious double kick drum were emanating.

“Oh, it was Vicky’s turn to pick the music,” said Crissy, “since she didn’t get to at my birthday party. It’s a playlist her cousin up in Bronning made for her.”

Triniti’s brow smoothed, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh, you mean Nettie?”

Vicky smiled. “The one and only.”

“Sure, I remember her from when she was a little kid. She used to hang around with Crissy’s aunt Cindy when—um—” Now Triniti looked a little contrite. “When she stayed here in Dickson for a little while.”

Understanding Triniti’s consternation, Vicky let her off the hook with a wan smile. “Sure. I was born while she was here, or so they tell me.”

Still looking a bit discomfited, Triniti gave a small nod. “I’ll leave you girls to it.” Turning away, she slipped past Patty and made her way down the hall. Patty just stood there in the hallway, uneasy eyes fixed on the two girls seated on the bed.

Closing her laptop and putting it aside, Crissy got to her feet, her mouth stretching into a warm smile. “Don’t just stand there, girl. Get in here.” Patty stepped forward cautiously, her shoulders hunched.

Crissy enveloped Patty in a hug, which was gingerly returned. Patty towered over Crissy; if anything, she was even taller than Vicky’s big sister Julie. But where Julie exuded confidence, Patty wore her stature self-consciously. And she was so thin! The tall, dark-haired girl was looking over Crissy’s shoulder at Vicky, trepidation written all over her face. When Vicky met her eyes, Patty looked away.

Crissy let her arms drop to her sides and took a step away. “I gotta use the can. Be right back.” Stepping around Patty, she exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

An awkward silence fell. Patty seemed rooted to the spot. Finally, just as Vicky was opening her mouth to offer a token greeting, Patty met her eyes. “You’re mad at me, huh?”

Vicky shrugged. “Kind of.”

A slight smile touched the corners of Patty’s mouth. “You know, I’m glad you said that. Most people would just try to pretend like everything’s cool, and I think it just makes things worse.” She drew in a shaky breath.

Despite the knot of anger still lingering in the pit of her stomach, Vicky was beginning to feel a touch of sympathy for the girl. She was trying to think of how best to reply when, once again, Patty spoke first.

“I was a bitch,” she said, stepping forward and carefully seating herself next to Vicky on the bed. She rested the tips of her fingers on Vicky’s wrist. “I did everything I hate when people do it to me. There’s no excuse. I’m so sorry.”

Her voice was steady, and Vicky liked her a little better for not putting on a show of tears. Even more so for not trying to place all the blame on Sarah Spencer. Still…

“Did Crissy put you up to this?” Vicky didn’t mean to say that; the words just spilled out.

Those thin shoulders rose in an elaborate shrug. “In a way, I guess. I went to her and told her I was sorry for acting that way at her birthday party. She forgave me, but told me that you’re the one I really needed to apologize to. I mean, I already knew that, but—” she trailed off helplessly.

“But what?” Vicky’s armor was softening, but she’d been wounded pretty badly, and wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

When Patty spoke again, there was a tremor in her voice. “It’s just that what I did was so messed up. I was s-scared to face you. I figured you’d just tell me what an awful person I am, and—and you’d be right.”

With a heavy sigh, Vicky placed her hand on Patty’s, the fingers of which were still resting on her arm. “Look, I get that you were just trying to impress Sarah, but—”

“I wasn’t going to mention that,” Patty cut in, shaking her head. “I mean, yeah, that is why it happened, but it’s still the shittiest excuse ever.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Vicky, “is why it was so important. I can tell you really are sorry, and that you’re really beating yourself up about this. What I don’t get is why you’d do stuff you hate just to get her to like you.”

Patty fixed her eyes on her lap, her already slouched shoulders drooping even further, as if she was slowly deflating. “Because when you’re a total loser like me, getting a popular girl to be even halfway nice to you seems like the most important thing in the world.” Now she did sound close to tears. “That just makes me sound like an even crappier person, doesn’t it?”

The last sliver of ice in Vicky’s heart melted. She pulled Patty’s hand into her lap, folded it between both of hers. “It makes you sound like a person who doesn’t know that she’s worth something. You’re the best player in the chess club, aren’t you? You won a tournament that was mostly college kids. How can you call yourself a loser when you’re doing stuff like that?”

Patty let out a teary little laugh. “It’s not the same as being cool.”

Vicky gave a derisive snort. “If being cool means being anything like Sarah Spencer, I’ll settle for being a geek, thanks very much.”

Finally Patty lifted her gaze, head turning to meet Vicky’s eyes. “I don’t want to be like Sarah. I…I wish I was like you. You believe in yourself, and you’ve got skin like an alligator.”

Not feeling particularly thick-skinned at the moment, Vicky was casting around for a reply when a thought struck her. “I thought Crissy was just going to the bathroom.”

Patty let out a snort of laughter, dashing tears from her eyes with the hand that wasn’t still lying in Vicky’s lap. “I’ll bet she’d taking her time because she’s hoping we’ll—”

“Do exactly this?” Both girls laughed.

As if on cue, the door swung open. Crissy stood framed in the entrance, wearing a huge grin. “Perfect!” she said, her tone one of triumph. “Now we can relax and have a good time.”

***

Hours later, the three girls lounged on the living room couch in their pajamas, Vicky in the middle. They were idly debating the merits of watching a movie. Crissy’s mom had bailed immediately after dinner, informing the girls that she would be spending the evening with her sister, and possibly the night.

“Like hell she is,” Crissy had said with a giggle as they watched Triniti’s car back down the driveway. “Mom’s got a new boyfriend she thinks I don’t know about.” She sighed, stretched. “So… what do you guys want to watch?”

“I’m clueless,” said Vicky. “At home, I mostly listen to music.”

“Speaking of which,” said Patty. “That was a really cool playlist you brought over! I was too chickenshit to say so in front of Sarah at Crissy’s party, but it’s almost all stuff I listen to.”

Vicky had to laugh. “Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you what most of it was. I asked Nettie for a playlist of music she listens to that’s more or less recent. I’m just kinda checking it out myself.”

Patty smiled, looking more comfortable than she had all evening. She was a lot cuter that way, Vicky decided. “There was… let’s see.” She began ticking off names on her fingers. “Semblant, Arch Enemy, Avenged Sevenfold, Epica, Amon Amarth—a few others. She gave you what you asked for; it’s all pretty modern heavy music.”

Crissy nodded. “And that’s what you listen to, Patty, when you’re not worried about Sarah or someone like that razzing you about it?”

“Yeah.”

Crissy flicked her eyes to Vicky. “What about you, Vick? If that’s really your cousin’s music, what’s your music? Is it classical? I know you play it on the guitar. Can you show us some?”

With a mental shrug, Vicky picked up her phone from where it lay on an end table, bringing up a YouTube video of a woman playing Bach on a lute.

“So that’s what a lute is,” said Patty.

“Yeah,” Vicky replied. “I’m hoping to get one soon.”

“That’s actually really different… and cool,” said Patty.

“Can’t say I’m in love with this,” Crissy admitted, “but it’s better than that heavy stuff you were playing earlier, not gonna lie!”

Vicky was feeling tremendously empowered by Crissy’s simple acceptance. It was such a rare thing amongst girls their age. “I’m not crazy about your Taylor Swift playlist, either,” she said. “So what? That’s why we take turns.”

“Right on!” Patty enthused.

“We should decide what movie we’re watching,” said Crissy, “or else I’m getting the laptop back out and we’re gonna do more shopping for homecoming dresses!”

“Well, there’s a threat you don’t hear every day,” said Vicky with a snort of laughter.

“Are you even going with anybody yet?” asked Patty.

“No,” Crissy admitted. “Trouble is, my last boyfriend was Mark Bedford, and a lot of people are scared of him. I think dudes are afraid to ask me out because they don’t wanna piss him off.”

Patty opened her mouth, then quickly closed it. That wasn’t lost on Crissy. “Patty, you’ve gotta stop doing that,” she said. “We’re friends here. You can say what you’re thinking.”

Patty’s complexion went bright red. “I was just gonna say I… I never understood what you saw in him. I’m sorry, I—”

“Hush,” said Crissy, putting a hand on Patty’s arm. “He’s a douche; I know that. It’s a flaw I have. I like guys with tattoos, long hair, and bad attitudes. Okay, wrong word. I don’t even really like them. I’m just, y’know—”

“Attracted to them,” Vicky finished for her.

“Yeah, that,” Crissy agreed. “If I see a dude who looks like he’s going to ruin my life, I wanna stick my hand in his Levis. How messed up is that?”

Vicky giggled. “My dad has a t-shirt that says ‘mothers like good boys, but chicks dig bad boys’. Kinda like that, huh?”

Crissy rolled her eyes. “Exactly like that. I don’t get horny for the kind of guys that would be good for me. I hope you two are smarter than I am.”

“Well, I—” Patty seemed unable to continue.

“You went out with a football player!” Chrissy said, laughing. “I’m not sure that’s much better.”

Patty was gazing at her lap again. “Actually—”

Crissy frowned. “Actually what?”

Patty buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God… I totally made that up. Guys, I’m so sorry—you and Sarah were talking about these dudes you’d hooked up with, and I didn’t want to look like a loser. That’s why I said the ‘football player’ was from Alexandria, so it wouldn’t be easy to check. I’ve never had sex with anybody. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Oh, Patty. It’s okay,” said Crissy.

Patty tilted her gaze towards Vicky. “At least you had the guts to be honest about being a virgin. I’m one, too.”

Vicky tried to suppress the grin that was overtaking her face, failing miserably.

Her expression wasn’t lost on Crissy. “Something’s happened since then!” she crowed. “Hasn’t it?”

Warmth spread across Vicky’s face, and she knew a fairly impressive blush must be creeping up. All the same, she was smiling. “Could be something did,” she said.

“Well, come on now—details!” Crissy insisted.

Vicky’s smile faded a bit. “Maybe the less said the better.”

Crissy looked at her sidelong. “So, no names. Fine. I still want the whole dirty story!”

Vicky shook her head, good humor fading. “It’s not that simple.”

“It was with a girl, wasn’t it?!” Patty blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Vicky said nothing, but knew the truth had to be written all over her face.

Crissy picked up on it, all right. She slung an arm across Vicky’s shoulder, pulling her close. “Good for you if it was,” she said. “Tell you what, I’d probably have a lot less problems if I swung that way.”

Patty was stroking her chin, a pensive look on her face.

“You okay, Pats?” Crissy wanted to know.

Patty sighed heavily. “Oh, just something else I need to apologize for. The stuff Sarah was saying about Vick’s sister Julie, and I joined in on. About her being a dyke. I’m sorry, Vicky. I’ve only met Julie a couple of times, but I really liked her. Everything about her just screams ‘I know exactly who I am, and I’m proud to be her’. She’s beyond cool.”

“So cool,” Crissy agreed. “Her and Mallory both. I still remember them being besties with my aunt Cindy, back when we were little. Nobody follows their arrow like Julie and Mallory. If I’ve ever met two chicks I kinda want to be like, it’s them.”

“Yeah,” said Patty. “I think the thing I hate most about myself is, well, I don’t like myself. Julie’s totally down with who she is. Does that make sense?”

Crissy reached across Vicky’s lap, patting her tall friend’s hand. “What’s not to like?”

Patty laid her head back against the cushion, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t relate to people most of the time,” she said. “I don’t understand the things they do, or what they like. And I’m always saying the wrong thing. I even know why.” Sitting up straight, she glanced from Chrissy to Vicky. “I’ve never told anyone at school this, but I’m autistic.”

Crissy slowly nodded. “I thought you maybe had a touch of the ‘tism. My uncle’s autistic, and that’s his term for it. Touch of the ‘tism. So what? You’re a little awkward socially. I don’t care. Bet Vick doesn’t either.”

Vicky shook her head. “I’d rather deal with that than the crap you get from those manipulative bitches like Sarah Spencer. You know, the ones who are really good at reading social cues, and end up using them against people.”

“Girl,” said Crissy with a shake of her head, “that’s just called high school.”

“But there’s more to you than that, Patty,” Vicky went on. “Way more. Like, everyone at school knows you’re an information gathering machine, and when you get interested in something, you’re like a, a terrier with your teeth in someone’s leg. Remember when we had to write those military history papers, and drew the topics out of a hat? You got the events that led to World War Two, and in a couple of days time you just knew everything there was.”

“And you would not shut up about it!” said Crissy, laughing.

“I still remember some of the details,” Vicky added, giggling. “Like how Hitler couldn’t make it as an artist.”

Patty didn’t crack a smile. “That’s not such a great thing,” she said. “I get obsessed. If I’m even a little interested in something, I want to know everything there is to know about it. And then I just want to share it with the whole world, and forget that nobody cares but me.”

“But it’s still impressive,” said Crissy. “I won’t lie: it gets a little annoying sometimes. But—oh damn it, I’m not sure how to put what I’m thinking into words.” She looked to the ceiling for a moment, then continued. “How about this: even when I’m annoyed at you, I’m a little jealous, too. I’m obsessed with picking a homecoming dress. You’re obsessed with the Beer Hall Putz. Something that actually matters. Some people think that makes you a spaz because it’s not the same stuff everyone else is into, but I think it makes you super-cool.”

“It’s Putsch,” Patty corrected her, “and the World War Two thing was a pretty short obsession. Wanna know what it led to? You’re gonna laugh at this.”

Vicky gave Patty’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “No, I won’t. I’m obsessed with 18th century lute manuscripts. So what did the Beer Hall thingie lead to?”

Patty couldn’t restrain a shy grin. “Battleships. Wanna know what the biggest battleships in history were? The Yamato class, in World War Two. The Japanese built them. Or I could tell you all the workarounds countries came up with in the 1930s to get around Washington Naval Treaty restrictions. Did you know that the US was building two battlecruisers at the time the treaty was signed that ended up being too big to meet the new requirements, so they turned them into aircraft carriers? They were—”

She broke off, mortified. “And there I go again—I just want to start talking about it, thinking that other people will be interested, even though I know they won’t.” She hesitated, then added, “Can you guys do me a favor?”

“You bet,” said Crissy.

“Of course,” Vicky chimed in.

“If I’m being a chatterbox, tell me. With you two I’ll know it’s not coming from a mean place, and I’ll shut up.”

“I think we can manage that,” said Crissy. “Anyway—we still don’t have any details, Vicky! I mean, your first time getting busy? Don’t even try to keep that to yourself!”

“I see what you’re obsessed with,” Vicky remarked, drawing a much-needed round of laughter.

Vicky took a deep breath. “Patty’s right. It was a lesbian thing. And not just with a girl. It was more than one.”

Crissy’s mouth dropped open. “You had group sex for your first time?!”

Suddenly self-conscious, Vicky looked down at her hands, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

“That’s so totally hot!” Crissy exclaimed.

Vicky looked up, startled. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah! I love the idea of group sex. I’ve just never done it. So—dish! How many girls are we talking about? Three? Fifty?”

“Four, including me.” Vicky was smiling now.

“Wow,” said Patty. Even that single syllable came out a bit shaky.

“So—” Crissy’s voice became tentative. “You’re gay, then?”

Vicky pursed her lips. “Not completely. I’m attracted to guys, too. And trans people—I’ve kind of got a thing for Josie Barber at school. I don’t really have a type.”

“That’s pansexual,” said Patty.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” said Vicky. “According to one of my sister’s friends, it means I have a cookware fetish.” All three girls cracked up.

“I’m gay,” Patty blurted. Her face went bright red. “I think,” she added in a more hesitant tone. “I guess I sometimes think guys are cute. But when I have fantasies—” It seemed impossible, but her blush deepened even more. “Um, never mind,” she mumbled, then fell silent.”

“So… you only think about girls when you touch yourself?” said Vicky.

Patty  broke into a huge grin. “Yeah, that’s what I mean! God, I feel like I can talk to you guys about anything.”

Crissy gave her head a quick shake. “Damn, this is turning into the weirdest sleepover ever. But I guess if you girls can say it, I can too. I mostly think of myself as straight, but I’ve had fantasies about chicks before. It’s different from guys, though. More, ummm—I think abstract is the word I’m looking for. It’s not like I see girls at school and I’m all like, yeah, I wanna jump on that. It’s more something I feel when I’m alone in my bed at night. Does that make any sense at all?”

Vicky thought about that for a moment. “Not to me it doesn’t, but that’s okay. We’re all different.”

“You’re bi-curious, maybe,” said Patty.

“Yeah, maybe that,” Crissy replied. She let out a single laugh. “We were talking about what to watch before. I’m starting to think the answer is porn!” Vicky snorted laughter.

Patty giggled, covering her eyes with one hand. “I watch it, sometimes,” she admitted. “The lesbian stuff, that is. Wanna know what’s funny? It’s not even to watch the sex. I like looking at those naked women, and pretending my body is as pretty as theirs.”

Making a face, Crissy reached across Vicky to slap Patty’s arm. “Knock it off, already. You’re prettier than you think.”

“I’m not. I’m too tall, too skinny, and too clumsy.”

“You have a beautiful face,” Vicky countered. “And great eyes. I love your eyes. There’s nothing wrong with being tall—on you, it’s totally hot. Your only problem is that you walk around like you’re embarrassed about yourself. Just relax and be who you are, and you’ll turn heads.”

A different, intrigued light came into Patty’s eyes. “You really think I’m hot?” Then she blushed again. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that the way it c-came out.”

At that moment, Vicky realized something unexpected: she did think Patty was hot. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed before because of Patty’s association with jerks like Sarah Spencer. But now that she was able to give it some headspace, there was something about this shy, awkward, gangly girl that was pushing all of her buttons at once.

She gave Patty a sideways look. “Are you sure you didn’t mean it the way it sounded?” she asked. “Because if you didn’t, I think I’m a little disappointed.”

“If I was gay, I’d do you,” Crissy chimed in.

Patty hung her head. “You guys are being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it, not after the way I acted when Sarah was here.”

Twisting sideways, Vicky wrapped both arms around those bony shoulders, pulling Patty into a hug. “I know you’re sorry,” she whispered into the tall, dark-haired girl’s ear. “I know it wasn’t really you saying those things, and I know you said them because you don’t feel good about yourself. Forget about it.” She pulled away, hands on Patty’s shoulders, holding her at arms length.

“Thanks s-so much, guys,” Patty stammered. “You’re the best!” There were tears on her cheeks.

“You just need to know you’re worth something, that’s all,” Vicky told her. “You’re so much better than people like Sarah Spencer. I wish I knew how to convince you of that.”

“Sarah’s better than Sarah,” said Crissy. The other two girls turned their heads in her direction.

“Honest to God, I don’t know what happened to her,” Crissy went on. “She was my best friend for ages, then she turned into a total bitch ever since we joined the cheerleading squad.”

A thought struck Vicky. “You know,” she said, “maybe Sarah’s more insecure than you think. Maybe she cuts other people down to build herself up.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Crissy. Then she laughed. “You’re amazing, you know that? Sarah treated you like shit, and here you are trying to put yourself in her shoes.”

Vicky shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I guess I have a hard time thinking that anyone is really that awful.”

Crissy nodded slowly, folding both hands in her lap. A slow smile crept over her lips. “You’re really not gonna tell us who you hooked up with?”

Vicky smiled back. “Really not.”

“Great,” Crissy murmured. “Now I’m gonna spend hours trying to figure it out.” She began to nibble her lower lip. “Hmmm… three other girls at once—or was it three women?”

“Not telling,” Vicky said. “No hints, either.”

Patty was shaking her head. “I’m just trying to imagine even having the nerve to do a group thing for my first time.”

Vicky waved her hand dismissively. “It wasn’t like I started it or anything. More like I got invited to join in.”

“You know,” said Crissy in a contemplative tone, “even though I mostly like dudes, I’m not sure I’d be able to turn an offer like that down. Just picturing it gets me fired up.”

Vicky had been trying to ignore a steadily increasing sense of arousal, but found it all but impossible, now that her panties were growing damp. She realized there were possibilities for an especially thrilling evening, if she played her cards right.

“Is thinking about my lesbian foursome getting you hot, Crissy?” she asked. She took a teasing tone, but the gaze she fixed upon her friend radiated desire.

Crissy, to her delight, met the gaze head-on. “It kind of is,” she admitted.

“You don’t even want to know what’s happening over here,” Patty confessed.

Vicky turned her attention from Crissy to Patty. “Actually,” she said, deciding to go just a little further out on this limb, “I do want to know.” Hesitantly reaching out, she caressed Patty’s neck. The tall girl shivered, the breath hissing through her teeth. A mortified expression crossed her face, but Vicky eased the tension with a smile.

“That’s what I hoped was happening,” she murmured. She glanced over her shoulder at Crissy. “So what’s going on with you?”

“About the same thing,” said Crissy, her voice unsteady. “I’m not sure what this even is, but it’s doing a number on me.”

Vicky lifted an eyebrow. “What do you want it to be?”

“I—I’m not sure.”

Vicky shifted her attention back to Patty. “What about you?”

“I guess—I mean, I want—I—” Patty floundered helplessly, then fell silent.

Vicky felt a light touch on her arm from behind. “What do you want, Vicky?” Crissy intoned.

“Right now,” Vicky murmured, “I’d really like to kiss Patty.” She gave the dazed walnut-haired beauty a sultry smile. Patty’s visage was a study in contrasts; astonishment, desire and fear all on display.

“Should I kiss you, Patty?” said Vicky, her voice down to a whisper, “or should we figure out what movie to watch?”

Soon to come: Chapter Twenty-Two!