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“Which means one or both of the women die at the end,” she groused, as they drew nearer to her Jeep, parked on Ocean Street.

“Right,” Krissy concurred, “but the fun part is trying to guess how they will die at the end. Suicide? Murdered by husbands? Run over by horse-drawn carriage?”

“Tragic accident involving gravity and falling off a cliff?” Becca suggested.

“Incurable disease?” Krissy offered.

“Wait…even more tragic…” Becca began, “…a disease that was incurable back then, but which is perfectly curable today by taking some Advil and Alka-Seltzer.”

“Ooh, good one! Let’s bet. Loser buys dinner tonight. I choose run over by horse-drawn carriage.”

“And I choose falling off a cliff,” Becca said. “It just seems so Kate Winslet.”

***

After swinging by Krissy’s so she could pack an overnight bag, they drove to Becca’s and started their lesbian age-gap film fest.

Turns out, both women in Ammonite survived the movie. The ending, in fact, was quite ambiguous, leaving it to the viewer to finish the story in her head. After some discussion over wine, Becca and Krissy determined that Mary and Charlotte tied up Charlotte’s husband, stole all his money and ran away to Greece together, where they founded a colony of lesbian fossil hunters.

Even though neither of them lost their bet, Becca, as Krissy’s host, paid for the Chinese food they had delivered after the movie.

“I need to take a shower,” Krissy said after helping Becca clear up after dinner.

“Me too,” Becca said.

“Tell you what,” Krissy began, “this time I’ll use the guest shower while you use the master. We can get our showers done at the same time and then start the next movie. Otherwise we’ll be waiting all night because you take forever in the shower.”

“Me?” Becca exclaimed. “I have literally baked a pie while waiting for you to get done showering!”

“Well, I have literally cooked you dinners at my house while waiting for you to get done showering!”

“Whatever,” Becca said, heading out of the kitchen. “Let’s just get it done so we can relax the rest of the night.”

It was with some satisfaction when, later, Becca emerged out of her bedroom following her shower and still heard her guest shower running.

Ha! And I even shaved my legs too!

And that was no quick task, considering how long her legs were.

Going back in her bedroom, Becca decided to wait for Krissy in there while she packed her stationhouse bag for tomorrow.

Becca, like all Carlsbad firefighters, worked 24-hour shifts at her stationhouse. Once she arrived there tomorrow morning at eight a.m., she wouldn’t be off-duty again until that same time Tuesday morning. Until then, she’d sleep, shower and eat at Fire Station 3, only leaving if there was a fire call or some other emergency her company needed to respond to, or if there were drills to run at the training ground across town.

Krissy finally arrived as Becca was putting the last few items she’d need in the bag.

“Hey,” Krissy said, coming in, smelling floral and fresh.

“Hey,” Becca replied, not looking up from the act of zipping her stationhouse bag closed.

“Are we going to watch the next movie in here?” Krissy asked, coming to stand next to her.

Becca looked over at her and immediately wanted to scream in frustration.

Krissy was wearing an oversized button-down sleepshirt. It was bluish-gray, boyfriend-style and made of such a lightweight material that Krissy’s nipples were clearly creating tiny peaks in the fabric. Whereas the back of the shirt extended well past Krissy’s bottom, to the backs of her knees, the front hem of the shirt barely r

eached no further down than a miniskirt would have, exposing Krissy’s perfect legs.

“So?” Krissy prodded.