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Megan looked at her thigh. A patch of her skin was slightly redder than the rest from Vanessa’s rubbing and it was shiny and slick, coated with Vanessa’s cream. Megan stared at it, burning the image into her mind because she never wanted to forget it. Her own sex was responding to the image also, her clit demanding attention, more arousal seeping from her folds. She reached out and dabbed at the spot on her thigh with the middle finger of her left hand, watching how a thin line of Vanessa’s lubricant stretched between finger and leg as she slowly pulled her finger away, a process she repeated several times, playing with what Vanessa left her, loving how even more turned on it was making her.

Finally, she rolled onto her side and embraced the still-trembling Vanessa, whose back was to her. Megan helped ease her down from the orgasm by lightly kissing the back of her neck while reaching around her to take one of Vanessa’s hands in hers, entwining their fingers, Vanessa making little whimpering sounds until finally she went still.

Megan wondered briefly if this was heaven.

Chapter 13

By two p.m., they needed a break.

A walk along the seawall? For her part, Vanessa wasn’t sure she could walk across the room. Her legs were jelly, her center a non-stop tingling presence between them.

Megan’s head was resting on Vanessa’s chest as they lay in bed, recovering, and Vanessa was slowly twirling one of Megan’s auburn locks with her finger.

“So, what’s your favorite color?” Vanessa asked.

Megan giggled.

“Blue,” she answered.

“What was up with that, anyway?”

“I just like to know at least one interesting factoid about a woman before I sleep with her,” Megan replied.

“But you already knew some factoids about me,” Vanessa said with a laugh. “I own a coffeeshop; I love World War Z; I have better taste in Terminator movies than you…”

Vanessa found herself under a tickle attack then as Megan started raking her fingers along Vanessa’s left side. Fortunately, Megan showed mercy and stopped after a few seconds.

“Okay, okay,” Vanessa said, still laughing from the tickling, “I won’t bring up such a sore topic again.”

“You’d better not,” Megan said teasingly.

They fell into a comfortable silence then. Megan keeping her head on Vanessa’s chest, one of her arms draped across Vanessa’s middle while Vanessa continued playing with Megan’s hair.

“So, tell me your life story,” Megan eventually said.

“Oh God, are you ready to fall asleep?” Vanessa asked, “Seriously, you’re talking to a plain vanilla white girl from L.A.”

Megan purred, a sound that sent an electric thrill through Vanessa.

“Trust me, Vanessa,” Megan began, “there is nothing plain vanilla about you. I’ve tasted, remember?”

How could I forget?

“Anyway, out with it,” Megan ordered. “Why is your life story so plain vanilla?”

“Because I’m soooo California that sometimes I disgust myself.”

Megan giggled.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, one, I grew up in Los Angeles, which you already knew,” she ticked that off on a finger. “Two, I was on the freaking volleyball team all through high school. Beach volleyball.” Another tick. “Three, I used to be personal trainer—and isn’t that what people from, like, New York think all Californi

ans are?”

“No,” Megan said. “People from New York think all Californians are waitresses who are really actresses waiting for their big breaks.”

“Gotcha,” Vanessa said. “Well thank god I’m not one of those. And four, the vast majority of my wardrobe consists of clothes that would be perfect to wear on the beach at a moment’s notice.”