Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

The Story Thus Far

Chapter One: Mallory Kalvornek and her lover Julie Hanson have returned to Bronning, Minnesota, for the first time in years to catch up with friends and family. Meanwhile, their old friend (and occasional sex partner) paramedic Nettie Hastings fights to save a life, her lover Hannah drops by with an unexpected surprise, Terry Wilder grapples with writer’s block… and two little girls living in a trailer park named Heather and Gina are being carefully observed by a hidden stranger.

Chapter Two: Mallory and Julie get together at Nettie’s home with Nettie and her lover Hannah, Nettie’s friend Terry Wilder, Terry’s teen daughter Halee, and Mallory and Julie’s friend (and occasional sex partner) Cindy. Gossip is exchanged, memories shared, and an unexpected attraction between Mallory and Terry Wilder reveals itself. Meanwhile, the mother of the two trailer park girls Heather and Gina goes out for a night on the town, oblivious to the presence of the man spying on her home.

Chapter Three: At Nettie’s place, Nettie and Hannah leave the others to indulge in a bit of romantic pleasure, while Julie and her old friend Cindy get it on with Terry’s teen daughter Halee. As for Mallory, she has repaired to Terry’s place for one of her occasional bouts of heterosexual action. Appetites are indulged, confidences shared. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina are abducted from their trailer home by a mysterious and very scary man.

Chapter Four: At Nettie’s place, four women and Halee Wilder greet the morning after an evening of lesbian abandon. Later that day, Mallory rejoins Julie, Nettie, Cindy and Hannah for a day of fishing. Halee returns home and spends the day upgrading her internet in preparation for promised to be a fun night of video chat sex with her girlfriend Bethany. Meanwhile, Grace and Heather are in the custody of the mysterious man, who seems to takes delight in terrorizing them.

Chapter Five: After their day of fishing, Nettie, Julie, Cindy, Mallory & Hannah engage in a five-woman sexfest inside a tent… and with the use of Cindy’s phone, their old friend and occasional bedmate Emma attends the orgy virtually. In the midst of their abandon, Nettie has a weird, vague memory flashback that leaves her shaken, but she conceals it from the others. Back home, Halee and her new love interest Bethany (Hannah’s daughter) are having long-distance sex via their laptops. 

Chapter Six: Nettie has a heart-to-heart with Hannah about her personal demons. Later, she gets a call from Agent Bridgett Ramscone, who has an unsettling request: for Nettie to go through the documentation of her own childhood kidnapping — and the murder of her sister — as a possible way to gain insight into the abduction of Heather and Gina (who are still being emotionally abused by their kidnapper, but are also taking steps to escape). Nettie is shaken, but agrees to do what she can. 

Chapter Seven: Many years after the fact, submerged memories of Nettie’s kidnapping began to make themselves known — memories of a possible accomplice to the original crime. She shares her thoughts with Bridgett. Meanwhile, Heather and Gina work on a potential escape from their makeshift prison.

Chapter Eight: Nettie unearths more hints that kidnap victims Heather and Gina were abducted by the same man who kidnapped and brutalized Nettie and her deceased sister over a decade ago — but that man was known to have died in prison.  Gina manages to escape captivity. But Heather can’t fit through the opening they dug, and must remain behind. Nettie gets a possible fix on the girls’ captor who, while out and about, gets a flat tire — then he discovers the spare is flat as well. 

Chapter Nine: The man who kidnapped Gina and Heather must get his flat spare tire fixed, not knowing the police have been alerted to him and are searching the area. Nettie, who is also hunting for the man, manages to find his abandoned car — then, some time later, makes an even more startling discovery: little Gina, alone and weeping by an abandoned road. In the meantime, the kidnapper manages to make his escape from the area by phoning a mysterious woman to pick him up.

Chapter Ten: Mallory meets with her mother, Sharon, for the first time in months, but fails to learn the cause of the recent distance between them. Nettie is still obsessed with Jacob Brentshaw, the man who kidnapped her and murdered her sister Annamarie so many years ago, sensing he is also behind the recent kidnapping as well… but can’t get past the fact that Brentshaw was killed in prison. Her actions saved the lives of Gina and Heather, but she remains determined to keep working the case on her own. For the first time, Nettie tells her lover Hannah about her own kidnapping and Annamarie’s death, events she has refused to discuss with anyone for years.

Chapter Eleven: Terry finds himself at loose ends, questioning his current life path, and decides to open up to than his dear friend and former sex partner Nettie. She and Hannah lend a sympathetic ear, then their conversation turns to kidnappings — the recent one, as well as Nettie’s own horrific abduction over a decade earlier, when her sister was murdered. She is fast coming round to the conclusion that both kidnappings involved an accomplice.

Chapter Twelve: A sleepover is in progress at Terry’s place while he is out. When the girls retire to their rooms, Halee phones her girlfriend Bethany and puts her on speaker to hear her younger sister Naomi and Chelsey going at it through their adjoining walls, and a good time is had by all. Upon returning home, Terry does some work on an idea for a new novel after months of inaction. Mallory is still unsure what to do with the family farm, and Nettie runs some ideas about the recent kidnapping case past Agent Ramscone.

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

You’ll never be alone
I am your heart, I am your home
Your brick, your steel, your stone
I hope you know that you’ll never be alone
Sweet & Lynch, 2023

“I’m not sure what to do with this place, now that I have it,” said Jamie Nelson. “It’s in way worse shape than I thought.”

Mallory chuckled. “I’m kind of in the same boat, except I knew exactly how bad mine is.”

Jamie, Mallory, Julie and Julie’s little sister Vicky were standing in the front yard of Jamie’s childhood home. The massive three-story structure was one of the largest houses in Dickson, and the oldest by almost a decade. When Jamie’s parents retired to Florida, she’d bought the house rather than let it go on the market. It had been vacant for almost four years.

Jamie, Mallory reflected, had not changed much. An attractive woman of thirty, she still kept her light brown hair tied back in a ponytail; still favored clothing reminiscent of the Age of Aquarius. Today she had on an orange ankle-length skirt with a dark brown hem and waistband, the whole thing inlaid with hand-stitched patterns, and a simple black off-the-shoulder peasant’s blouse with a shawl to match the skirt. Her feet were shod with sandals. She still didn’t bother with makeup; had never needed it.

Right then, she was grinning. “Yeah, but you inherited yours, little sister. I’m the dimbulb who bought this pile.”

Julie, her slender body clad in hip-hugging jeans and a Colorado Engineering Solutions tee, tipped her a sidelong glance. “I’m surprised you did. Are you planning on moving back?”

Jamie spread her hands. “I’d kinda like to, but for the moment, no. When I’m not touring, I’m a session player, and there’s like three cities in the entire country where you can do that and make steady money. I’m not in love with LA, but it’s where I’m at. For the moment, anyway.”

Vicky, sunlight glinting off her freshly dyed pink hair, regarded Jamie thoughtfully. “I remember Dad saying that it’s easier to become a rock star than a professional session musician. Is that true?”

Jamie chuckled. “Little sister, there are exactly five session guitarists in North America making real money. It was four until a couple of years ago, but Tim Jessop is an A-lister now. He got there because I’ve been taking touring jobs lately and haven’t been available for sessions as much. It’s almost impossible to get a foot in the door, because hiring an unknown is a risk. Producers have deadlines and budgets. They don’t like risk.” She cocked her head at Vicky. “I hear you’ve become quite the shred demon yourself.”

Vicky shrugged. “I’m not bad, but I’ve been getting more into classical guitar lately. I just passed my Grade Ten.”

Jamie let out a low whistle. “I don’t know much about the grades; I play just enough classical that I can use it on sessions if I have to. But if I remember right, Grade Ten is way past ‘not bad’.”

A smile was playing across Mallory’s lips. “It is.”

Four heads turned as a light blue Chevy pickup rounded the corner and pulled up to the curb. The driver’s door popped open, and a slender brunette of medium height slid to the ground. Emma Fronning rounded the nose of the vehicle, her slim yet deliciously curvy body coming into view. Skintight jeans hugged every contour, terminating in fashionable black ankle boots. Everything about Emma, from her straight brown hair to her china doll features, from her mincing walk to the way her mauve v-neck accentuated her breasts, exuded sex.

All of which fell apart when she squealed and broke into a run, seizing Mallory and lifting her from the ground in the mother of all bear hugs.

“Oof!” Mallory grunted, twining both arms around her old friend’s shoulders. Planting a big sloppy kiss on Mallory’s cheek, Emma put her down and turned to Julie, embracing the taller woman with equal enthusiasm.

“We missed you, too,” said Julie as she returned the hug, her chin resting on Emma’s shoulder.

“It’s so fucking good to see you,” Emma murmured in her ear. They parted, and Emma turned to Jamie. The two embraced warmly.

“It’s been too long, little sister,” said Jamie.

Emma finally turned to Vicky. “Bitch Junior here I saw just a few weeks ago,” she said, “but get your ass over here anyway.” Laughing, Vicky stepped into Emma’s waiting arms.

Letting Vicky go, Emma turned her attention to the weathered home before them. “I drive past this house every time I come down to see my folks,” she said, “but I guess I don’t really look at it. I’m thinking it might need a couple coats of paint, Jamie.”

Jamie grimaced. “Yeah, that’ll sure fix it all up. Come on.” She made her way up the walk, the rest of them trailing in her wake. She had to jiggle her key around a little before the stiff tumblers turned.

To Mallory, the entryway seemed barren without shoes on the floor and coats on the hooks. They passed through, a light haze of dust rising from the old hardwood with each step. The entryway arch led into the living room, and Jamie snapped on the light switch as she passed. The TV and personal effects were missing, but all the old furniture was still in place. Sheets were thrown over the couch, the loveseat, the recliner and the bookcase. A light film of dust coated everything in sight.

“Your folks left the furniture, huh?” said Julie.

“They left everything that wouldn’t fit in a small U-Haul,” Jamie replied. “Most of the books are still under that sheet, and there’s still enough dishes and stuff in the kitchen that I’m able to cook. They just bailed out and started over.”

The five women made their way from one room to the next, Jamie in the lead. Evaluating the house was one of two reasons she’d rented a car and driven down from Fargo during a two-day break in Cathy Harrison’s Summer Freakout tour, where she was featured as lead guitarist. The other was to visit with her old friends.

When they reached the third floor, Julie broke off from the group, making her way to where the hallway came to a corner, branching off in two directions, which left a room-sized section of one corner of the house with no access point.

Julie laid her hand on the cracked old plaster. “I can’t believe no one’s ever gotten around to breaking a hole in this wall and seeing what’s back there,” she said. “I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since I first saw it.’

Jamie laughed. “We never could talk Dad into it,” she said. “Now that it’s mine I’m gonna find out for sure, but it has to wait until I have some free time. Maybe when I’m back in August.” She turned to look at Emma. “Mal did tell you we’re playing the festival this year, right?”

Emma grinned. “No worries, I’ll be here. Actually, starting the first of July, I have six weeks off.” She spread her arms wide. “You’re looking at a bonafide software developer, ladies. Bye bye IT! I just landed a programming job.”

“Hey, all right!” Julie crowed, enveloping Emma in a hug. The others crowded around, offering hugs and congratulations.

“I thought you were still working on your CIS degree,” said Mallory.

“Oh, I am, and I’ll finish it. Only six credits left, so I’d be stupid not to. But I know someone at Northtech, and managed to get an interview without it. So Arvig can get fucked! I put in my notice, and I’m gonna take a little break before I start the new job.”

“That’s great, hon,” said Mallory, giving Emma’s shoulders a squeeze.

Jamie was standing next to a rope that hung from a handle set into a ceiling hatchway. She tugged, and the hatch swung down, bringing the pull-down ladder along with it. “Shall we?” she inquired. Without waiting for a reply, she scooted up the ladder, taking care not to tread on the hem of her skirt.

Mallory brought up the rear. By the time she stepped off the ladder and into the attic, Jamie had already turned the light on.

“Whoa,” Vicky was saying. “This was your bedroom?”

Jamie didn’t speak. Nobody had come up to cover the furniture, so everything was pretty much as Mallory remembered it. The side walls sloped inward. Jamie’s narrow bed was still in its old place; the faded armchair and loveseat facing the wall of stereo shelving. The lava lamps, the record collection and the books were all gone, but the old posters of rock guitarists still adorned the walls. That wasn’t all that remained.

“Your stereo is still here,” said Mallory, surprised. “So’s the Wurlitzer—and omigosh. Your old Vox amp!”

Jamie carefully eased herself into her old chair, trying not to stir up the dust. “I was moving around a lot, the first few years after I left,” she said. “By the time I got settled, I had better stereo equipment. The guitar amp I left here so I had something to play on when I came home. The Wurlitzer—you don’t even wanna know what a pain in the ass it was to haul that damn piano up here in the first place. I never got around to getting it back out.”

Mallory brushed at the old piano stool, wincing at the ensuing cloud of dust. Then she sat, switching the Wurlitzer on. Flexing her fingers, she gave the electric piano a minute to warm up, noted the position of the volume slider with the automatic ease of habit, then placed both hands on the keys. Dropping a chord with her left hand, she let loose an allegro run with her right, then slowed it down, idly playing a melody while arpeggiating through a sequence of chords.

“Damn,” said Julie, her voice almost a whisper. “That brings back some memories, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Jamie. There were tears in her eyes.

Vicky was wandering the edges of the space. “This is really freakin’ cool,” she said. “I can’t believe it was your room.”

Jamie sniffled, then cracked a grin. “I got kicked up here in sixth grade,” she said. “I was constantly playing my guitar, and the entire family was bitching about the racket. So they shoved me into the attic, Dad packed the joists with egg cartons to muffle the sound, and here I stayed till I moved out. I wasn’t thrilled at first, but in the long run, it totally worked to my advantage.”

“Sure saved us a lot of trouble!” said Julie. The four women cracked up.

Vicky looked from one to the other, puzzled. “What’s so funny?”

Emma giggled. “Making music isn’t the only noisy activity in the world, darlin’.”

Vicky’s eyes narrowed, then widened in dawning comprehension. “Oh,” she said. “I get it. I think.” Her cheeks were turning a darker hue of pink.

Sauntering across the room, Julie wrapped a casual arm around her sister’s waist. “We got friendly in all the right ways, kiddo. Why—aren’t your parties that much fun?”

“We, um, well—I guess we top out at Truth or Dare.”

“We also played Truth or Dare,” Emma said primly. “But we only did dares.” They cracked up again—all except Vicky, who was getting very interested in her feet.

Mallory abruptly stopped playing. “We’re not, um, making you uncomfortable, are we?”

Emma, who’d been opening her mouth to speak, seemed to think better of it. “Oops—sorry, Vicky. We’ll shut up now.”

Vicky looked up at the others, offering a hesitant smile. “It’s okay. I guess I kind of already knew that you guys used to fool around. And I know Mom is bisexual. Anyhow, it’s cool that you were all able to, y’know, be together like that without anyone getting hurt. Or in trouble. I just wish—oh, never mind.” She was getting red again.

Julie took her sister by the shoulders, turning her so they were face-to-face. “You can say whatever’s on your mind here without being judged, Vick,” she murmured. “If there was one place where girls could come and just let it all hang out, this was it. One of the saddest days ever was when Jamie moved to LA.”

“I don’t even remember that,” said Vicky. “I mean, I recall Jamie coming over sometimes, but not when she left.”

“You’d have been five, I think,” Mallory chimed in. She was playing again, this time a minor-key tune over some jazzy chords. “Old enough to remember, but maybe not enough for it to register. Jamie stuck around for a couple of years after she graduated. 80 Proof was getting looked at by a couple of major labels, and we were kind of hoping to get picked up. Once that ship sailed, the older members started drifting off. But—”

She paused, taking a moment to work through a rapid run of dense harmony that had occurred to her on the spur of the moment. “But anyway, Jamie didn’t hang out at your house much, and mine not at all. Mostly we came here. So it probably wasn’t really on your radar.”

“Whoa—play that again, little sister,” said Jamie. She was holding up her phone.

“You mean—this bit?” Mallory segued seamlessly into the chord sequence she’d unleashed a moment ago.

“Yep—that. There, I got it. Y’know, that could be something good. Maybe we should write a couple of new things before the show in August.”

“I’d be game,” said Mallory.

“Anyway,” said Julie, her hands still resting on Vicky’s shoulders, “if you’ve got something to get off your chest, this is like the safest of all the safe spaces on the planet.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” Vicky mumbled. She ducked out from under Julie’s touch and moved away, slow steps carrying her towards the end wall with the stereo shelving. She fixed her eyes on the tiny window set into the wall just above Jamie’s old turntable. The roof of the next house over was just visible through a network of cobwebs.

Jamie came up behind her. “I don’t know you real well, little sister,” she said, “but your big sis is one of my best friends ever, and your dad’s been a real mentor to me. You got stuff you need to talk about? Spill. We’re here for you.”

Vicky heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. So, we did a slumber party just before school got out. Crissy Moen’s birthday, six girls. I was surprised to get invited—I’m kind of the weird girl, y’know? But so’s Patty Spisak, and she was there too. Anyway—oh my God, it was awkward right off the bat. We were all supposed to bring a playlist of music. I avoided any classical stuff, but I thought they’d like some rock. So mine got put on first, and we got through like two songs before my playlist got voted off the island. And then—”

She turned to face the others. “A couple of them were bitchy about it, too. Mostly Sarah Spencer, but everyone always goes along with her, you know? Crissy was cool—she made the rest of them lay off. But anyway, we got to playing Truth or Dare. Some of it got a little—I dunno—personal. We got to talking about who’d had sex with who, and I told them I haven’t had sex with anybody. They didn’t say it, but the vibe was like, of course, she’s a virgin—what guy would want to sleep with a weird-ass chick like her?”

There was a hitch in Vicky’s voice as she uttered the last few words, and tears spilled onto her cheeks, eyeliner running. “So later, after we got in our sleeping bags, I overheard Sarah and Patty whispering to each other. Sarah was saying stuff like, you know, she’s probably a virgin because she’s a dyke, like her sister. And Patty was agreeing with her.” Vicky’s lower lip was beginning to quiver. “Crissy t-told them straight-out to knock it off, so they shut up and went to sleep. But I, I—” Breaking into sobs, she covered her face with both hands.

Jamie stepped forward to take the weeping girl in her arms. The others clustered around. Mallory, who had stopped playing over a minute before, got off the stool and crossed the room. The four women gathered around Vicky, making her the center of a big, complicated group hug.

“It’s okay to be different,” Jamie was whispering. “It’s okay to be a virgin. It’s okay to be a dyke, or straight, or to just love it all. Whatever you are, it’s good, little sister.”

“Yup,” said Emma, “and you can just tell Sarah Spencer to choke on a bag of dicks. Or maybe I will. Her aunt used to hang out with the Posse sometimes.”

“Yeah,” said Mallory. “She liked pussy, too.”

Vicky let out a tear-laden chuckle. “Really?”

“Yup,” said Julie. “But what about Crissy—we’re talking about Cindy’s niece, right? Sounds like she might be a real friend.”

Vicky sniffled; wiped her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. Her voice was still teary, but she seemed to be regaining a sense of control. “She did make the others stop being bitchy, and she apologized for them a couple days later. It still hurts, though.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” said Jamie. “But fuck them, little sister. You just be who you are, and be proud. Most girls like that, they’re trying so hard to fit in, they don’t even know who they are.”

Vicky shifted, still nestled in the epicenter of the group embrace. “This is really nice,” she said, “but I need a little space. And a tissue, if anyone has one.”

The circle split up, although everyone stayed close. DIgging in her purse, Jamie came up with some Kleenex and passed it over. “Thanks.” Vicky wiped her face, then blew her nose. Her makeup was all over the place.

“I guess part of the problem is that I don’t really understand who I am all the time, either,” she admitted.

“Of course you don’t,” said Emma. “You’re fifteen. It’s okay to still be figuring stuff out. Hell,” she let out a bark of laughter. “I’m twenty-seven, and I’m still working on it.”

“That’s because mentally, you’re closer to five,” Julie teased.

“True that,” said Emma, grinning. “So what is it you’re confused about, anyway? If you want to tell us, that is. Between us, I’d say we’ve been through it all.”

“Well—there’s sex, for one thing. I think I must be bi, like mom. But—and I know this is a stupid way to think about it—there’s always this little tickle in my head that says you should know who you’re into, not just be attracted to everybody. Because that’s what it’s like for me—I don’t have a type. Cheerleaders? They turn me on. Long-haired rock dudes? Hell, yeah. Football players? Bring it on. Then there’s Jennie Perkins, she’s overweight, and somehow that’s hot too. Or Josie Baker. Her birth name is John, and she’s transitioning. I so want to have sex with her. I mean—God. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Ever heard the term ‘pansexual’?” said Julie. “Maybe that’s you.”

Emma took Vicky by the shoulders, gazing soberly into her eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question, Vicky, and I want you to think about your answer very carefully. Do you think you might have a cookware fetish?”

The room exploded with laughter.

“Do not take advice from this woman,” Julie said, steering Emma away from Vicky. “When they handed out the ability to think logically, her ancestors were off tipping cows.”

“Basically, it means you’re attracted to a wide range of people, regardless of gender or identity,” said Mallory. “And what could possibly be wrong with that?”

“It makes life a lot simpler,” said Emma. “You can just fuck the whole world! Victoria Hanson, the one-woman global orgy. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

Everyone was laughing again. “Maybe I’d better start with just fucking one person,” said Vicky, still chuckling. “I haven’t even got that far yet.”

“Just because it’s your first time, that doesn’t mean it has to be with a single partner,” Emma pointed out. “I had my first orgasm with three other girls in the room, every one of them stark naked.”

“Yes—yes, she did,” said Julie with a grin.

“Well,” said Vicky, “I’ve already had my first—I mean—” she trailed off, her face flushing again.

“So you touch yourself,” said Julie. “Of course you do. So does everyone else you know, including those dumb bitches at the slumber party.”

Mallory closed her eyes, listening carefully to her inner voice, that strange instinct that had guided her in sexual situations since she was eleven years old, the unerring compass that made her the leader of so many carnal escapades.

Stepping forward, she brought her mouth to within inches of Vicky’s ear. “What you need more than anything is for someone else to touch you,” she crooned, her voice low and sultry. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s all I th-think about sometimes,” Vicky mumbled.

Mallory took Vicky’s hand, lifting it to chest level. With two fingers, she began caressing the back of that hand, then all the way up and down each of the fingers in turn. Vicky was trembling, her breathing unsteady.

“Does that feel good?” Mallory whispered.

Vicky only nodded. Then Julie moved in, using a single finger to delicately trace her sister’s arm. The others followed, gentle hands working their way across the teenager’s body, trailing across her clothes, caressing the exposed flesh.

When Jamie’s hand slipped under the maroon blouse, caressing the smooth skin of the belly, Vicky let out a small moan.

“Where—” she gasped, “where are we going with this?”

“Wherever you want it to go,” Mallory’s voice was still a breathy whisper. “If anyone does something you don’t want them to, you call it.” Releasing Vicky’s hand, she stepped around behind the girl, Emma obligingly moving out of her way. With the finger of both hands, Mallory began to softly caress the sides and back of Vicky’s neck.

“Hold on,” murmured Jamie. “I have a better idea. This way.” Taking Vicky by the hand, she led them all to the ladder. One by one, they descended to the floor below.

Moments later, they were filing into the master bedroom, once the domain of Jamie’s parents. Jamie began rolling back the dropcloth covering the king-sized bed, moving slowly so as not to raise a cloud of dust. Emma moved in to help, but not before catching Mallory and Julie’s attention and jerking her head towards Vicky, who almost seemed to be in a trance.

Mallory and Julie orbited the pink-haired teen, caressing, touching, teasing as Vicky shivered deliciously, dreamy-eyed with pleasure. In the meantime, it took Emma and Jamie less than a minute to remove the dropcloth. The bed lacked blankets, but a sheet and single pillow remained. With the covering removed, it was the one surface in the room free of dust.

Taking her sister’s hand, Julie walked Vicky to the bed and helped her to sit. Mallory bent double, laced both hands under Vicky’s knees, and swung the teen’s combat-booted feet onto the mattress. Then the four women were surrounding the girl once more, tenderly exploring her clothed body. Emma’s hand was under the blouse, finding its way to the front of Vicky’s training bra.

“Sit up for a second,” she whispered in Vicky’s ear. The girl obeyed, and Emma’s deft fingers slipped around behind, unclasping the offending garment and whisking it away. As Vicky lay back down, Emma began caressing a breast beneath her shirt, while Jamie sought out the other one, her fingers grazing a nipple. Vicky moaned again, her body shifting restlessly.

Mallory was sliding her fingers over a kneecap, then under, which elicited a jerk of Vicky’s leg and a nervous giggle. “Um, s-sorry,” Vicky stammered. “A little ticklish there.”

Mallory sensed this was the moment to make her move. “Are you ticklish higher up?” Not waiting for an answer, she slipped her hand beneath the knee-length white skirt, sliding along the inside of a smooth, soft thigh. “Omigosh,” Vicky mumbled, hips rising, parting her legs to allow Mallory greater access.

Emma was now tracing Vicky’s mouth with her thumb, fondling a breast with the other hand. Jamie was lavishing loving attention on the other breast while tracing the line of Vicky’s jaw.

Julie found herself longing to explore her younger sister in a way she never had before. She’d always found Vicky beautiful, but never seriously considered making love to her. What would she do if I slipped a hand into her panties? Julie wondered, but thrust the idea away just as it appeared. Best not. Don’t want to freak her out. Instead, she situated herself behind Vicky’s head, knees to either side, fingers running through pink hair, then dipping down to caress her sibling’s cheeks, ear, the line of the jaw.

“You’re safe here, Vick,” she said, her voice husky and soft. “You’re safe, you’re loved, and everyone is here for you.”

It was at this moment that Mallory allowed her fingers to slide across the front of Victoria’s white cotton panties, thrilled by the dampness she found along the line of the girl’s slit. Vicky’s body jerked, a choked cry escaping her lips. Grinning, Mallory applied a little pressure, taking up a circular motion. “Oh, shit,” Vicky moaned, now moving with small rhythmic thrusts against Mallory’s hand.

Clearly it was working for Vicky, but Mallory found the position awkward, putting too much of a strain on her wrist. Withdrawing her hand from beneath the girl’s skirt, she twisted around on the bed so as to slip her hand under the skirt’s waistband, then into Vicky’s panties, her fingers making contact with Vicky’s dripping pussy for the first time.

As her fingers brushed the teen’s clit, Vicky gave a tiny shriek, thrusting her hips. Encouraged, Mallory got to work, using two fingers to rub Vicky’s clit in a fast circular motion. The girl’s hips were now pumping frantically in fast, rhythmic thrusts. Her gasping, hitched breath was punctuated with occasional moans.

The other three women continued their ministrations, bathing the teenager in caresses. Julie leaned in close, whispering words of love and comfort into her sister’s ear. Then Vicky began to moan aloud, her hips beating the air, ass pounding into the mattress with each thrust. Finally she let out a long, strident wail, her body arching high as every muscle in her body quivered. Mallory allowed herself a lascivious smile as she rode with the girl’s orgasm.

Then Vicky’s muscles went limp, and she collapsed back to the bed, tears spilling from her eyes.

Julie leaned in. “Hey, sis,” she said, a hint of alarm in her voice. “You okay?”

Vicky nodded, clumsily wiping her face. “Y—yeah. I’ve just never—I’ve never felt so cared for in all—all my life, and it just feels so f—so fucking good—” She was sobbing now. Four bodies moved in to hold her, to give her the closeness she so desperately craved.

Her tears gradually tapered off, giving way to sniffles. She tried to remember when she’d ever felt as much a part of the whole as she did right then. Nothing came to mind.

“You okay, kiddo?” Julie asked again.

Extricating her arm from beneath Mallory, Vicky nodded. “I—I’m okay. That was happy crying; I’m not sure it’s ever happened to me before, but I just felt so good, you know? I always feel like such an outsider, except maybe at home with Mom and Dad. You guys brought me inside. Thanks for that.”

Julie kissed her sister’s cheek. “You’re always inside with me, sis. Remember that.”

For long, blissful minutes, no one spoke. No words were needed. The five women relaxed, shifting into more comfortable positions on the bed. Julie lay alongside her sister, holding her close while Jamie snuggled Vicky from the opposite side.

It was Emma who finally broke the silence. “When do you have to go back, Jamie?”

“I’m driving back to Fargo tomorrow night,” Jamie replied. “There were problems with the sound at the last couple shows, so day after tomorrow we’re doing an early soundcheck to try and sort it out. They might even drag Cathy out of her dressing room for it.”

Emma chuckled. “I guess being a big star usually means not having to do soundchecks.”

Jamie shrugged. “Most of the time the band doesn’t even do one. The techs just play our instruments for a few bars, and it’s good enough. We’re only doing it this time because they’re having issues out front. Our contract basically says ‘soundcheck as necessary’.”

“Well, hell,” said Emma, laughter in her voice. “That means you can’t bill them for extra services rendered.”

Jamie laughed with her. “For what this tour pays, I don’t have any complaints coming.”

“I imagine,” said Julie. “I think I read online that she got a whole new band for this run?”

Jamie spread her hands. “She wanted an all-female band. I guess it’s a statement about feminism or something. I don’t give a crap; I just wanted to go on the road. It’s tough to find a touring gig that pays what I get doing sessions.”

“It must be a pretty easy gig, too,” said Vicky. “I mean, what songs I’ve heard of hers even have guitar in them?”

“That’s what I thought going in,” said Jamie. “But it didn’t turn out that way. One of the reasons I got the gig is that she wanted to make her shows rock a little harder than the records, and the easiest way to get that is to throw some heavy guitar into the mix. She wanted me because I have a background in metal. So I had to sit down and figure out: what can I play that’ll give this more of an edge without stomping all over the feel?

“Plus, Cathy flat-out refuses to use backing tracks on stage, so everything’s live. I love that, but it means me and the keyboard player had to work out how to cover stuff that was recorded using twenty or thirty tracks, with just the two of us. It’s a pretty challenging gig. I was surprised.”

“That kinda makes me want to see one of the shows, and I don’t even like Cathy Harrison,” said Vicky.

“Cathy live is a whole different experience,” said Jamie. “If I’d had a little more notice I could have got you into the Fargo show. Maybe next time. We’re doing another six weeks this fall, and they’re still filling in some dates. Maybe there’ll be one you can see.”

“By the way, Jamie’s staying with Mal and me tonight,” said Julie. “Vick, Emma, you’re both invited.”

Emma shook her head. “Wish I could. Unfortunately, I have to work tomorrow. Don’t ever move out of your parent’s house, Vicky. Adulting fucking sucks.”

“When did you ever start adulting?” Julie asked with a sweet little smile.

“I gotta at least put on the act,” said Emma with a grin of her own.

“Vick?” Mallory ventured.

Desire warred with discipline, and Vicky knew it was written all over her face. She sighed. “I’d love to—but I’ve still got a couple hours of practice to get done tonight.”

Mallory put a hand on her arm. “Honey, you looked like you were about to be eaten by lions when you said that.”

Vicky shrugged. “People give me a lot of shit for noping out of things so I can practice.”

“You won’t get that with this bunch, little sister,” said Jamie. “Everyone here is in a field we couldn’t work in if we hadn’t put all of ourselves into learning it.”

Emma shook her head. “I’m just an IT wienie. Nothing special.”

Julie snorted. “Says the chick who just landed a job with a company that develops software for the space program and classified government projects. I would know. Northtech is doing all of the software for a project I’ll be heading up early next year.”

Jamie looked to Emma, eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t know that. Congrats, little sister—that’s one hell of a first programming gig. But even without that, my brother Matt works for the same company as you. He told me you hold a networking cert that only, like, four hundred people in the whole world have. True story?”

Emma shrugged. “The CCDE, yeah.”

“And there you go,” said Jamie, turning her eyes back to Vicky. “We’re all people who throw ourselves into what we do, and that’s why we get to do it. If you’re a Grade Ten classical guitar player at your age, that means you’re the same way. You’re among comrades in the trenches, little sister.”

“Thanks, Jamie.” Vicky was beaming.

“If you wanna hang out tomorrow, we can pick you up, Vick,” said Julie.

“Wait—how about this?,” Mallory said, her eyes lighting up. “You bring your guitar out to our place this afternoon, and we’ll leave you alone while you’re pumping the nylon. That’s how me and Julie have done things since we were twelve—we can exist in the same room for hours and not say a word. Just be together while we get our stuff done. If you want, I could even give you some critique. I’m not a classical guitarist, but I am a professor of music with plenty of students who play guitar. I know what to listen for.”

Vicky’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Yeah, I’m in!”

On to Chapter Fourteen!