Elle wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. She said as much out loud.

Nicole's face was bright red. "Please don't make me say it again."

"Okay, okay, but... It just wasn't what I expected to hear," said Danielle. "You want me to tell you... What sex is like?"

"Does that really surprise you?" Nicole said. "You're the one who said that it's totally natural for people to be curious about it. You were the one who said you were worried that I didn't seem to have any curiosity about it."

"I was drunk at the time," Elle grumbled, "I probably shouldn't've said that."

"Well," said Nicole. "I am curious. It's not like I don't know what you and Tom are doing. I've seen how... how happy you are afterwards." She colored a little. "I've heard the noises you make."

"Yeah, but... You've never... Shown any interest in it before," said Elle. "I mean, Tom and I have been going out for more than a year, and you haven't said anything. I just... I didn't see it coming. I mean... What about your parents?"

"Elle, I don't tell my parents anything," Nicole said, in a slightly less patient voice than before. "If they knew I knew half of what I know... I mean, I'm not even sure why they let me come here. I can't even get my ears pierced yet, because they'd have a fit."

"Wow," said Elle. "Summer must have been excruciating."

She had been going out with Tom for 15 months now. She and Nicole were sophomores, now living in the Logan dorms five doors down from David. The crowd here was a little more raucous than they were used to, but most of their classes were on this end of campus; and Nicole didn't seem too discomforted by the increased commotion, or the higher likelihood of some drunken sot knocking on their door at three in the morning. Indeed, she said it added spice to her life.

Tom had come to visit, once, over the summer; she had taken him to meet Liz (now, sadly, single) and Amy, but most of their time had been spent screwing each other's brains out at any moment they could. Sex with Tom was almost addictive, and going without had been a lot harder than she had expected. Liz had changed over the year; she was thinking about transferring to another school to be away from Martin, who had taken one look at the college scene and decided he didn't want to be tied down anymore. Last anyone had heard, he was sleeping his way through one girl a week (or more). Liz was taking it hard; there was a gauntness to her now, a pain that reminded Elle of the look she had always seen in Katrina Stanton's eyes. She had given Liz the Stantons' business card, but didn't know if her friend had looked them up.

To Amy and Liz, the most surprising news was seeing her being friends with David again. She had told them over the phone, of course, of their unlikely meeting, but they didn't really believe it until they saw it—and Elle supposed she oughtn't blame them. After all, neither of them had been friends with her while she was still with David; they hadn't had a chance to see how the two of them fit together. And it wasn't long before they'd seen their friendship in action, and understood. "God, and I thought I was close with Martin," Liz said. "I mean, we were together for more than four years. But, next to you guys..."

And Amy said, "It's not even like you're separate people anymore. He says something and you just immediately know what he means. I wouldn't want to give that up, if I didn't have to. ...And if I had it." She was single as well, though more by her own choice than anything else; men were asking her out, and she was going on dates, but she hadn't found anyone who suited her yet.

Elle was concerned for her friends, and did what she could for them while the summer lasted; but she was looking forward to school resuming. Not only was Tom there, but Nicole was too. And it was Nicole she felt the real kinship with now; it was Nicole with whom she shared her real secrets. She'd helped her pad her bra, make the wrong boys leave her alone, deal with annoying classmates or (even worse) group-project slackers; and in return, she'd gotten to see something remarkable: a woman in transformation. The process was slow, but the butterfly was emerging from its cocoon, spreading its wings. Gone were the days when her roommate's naiveté had annoyed her; in fact, she was starting to appreciate Nicole's more innocent viewpoint, and call upon it at times. Nicole had a knack for seeing the best in people; Elle, a practiced cynic, liked the balance it provided, and would hate to see it damaged.

For instance, by plucking fruit from the tree of temptation.

"Okay, I get that you're curious about sex," said Elle, "but... You're not dating anybody right now. What would be the point?"

"Do I have to be?" said Nicole.

"Well, no," said Elle. "People do casual sex sometimes. But does that sound like something you want to do?"

"What, you mean, sex just because you feel like it?" said Nicole. "Without... Without the person meaning anything to you, in particular?"

Elle nodded.

Nicole shook her head. "No, that's not for me. I'm sure those other people enjoy it, but it's not what I want."

"So why... Why be curious?" said Elle. "I mean, I can tell you stuff, but... I'm not sure it'll help. You know?"

"I know, but..." said Nicole, twisting her hands. "I just... I mean, I asked my parents about it, or tried to. Tried to, you know, work around to it. And... They just didn't tell me anything useful." She gave a little laugh. "Not that I could really say anything directly, of course. I had to be very... Vague. They might have thought I was talking about something else entirely. And I'm tired of being confused. I want to understand. My parents say, Don't do it, my friends say, Do it, the church says, Don't do it, the media says, Do it, and I don't even know what 'it' is right now."

"Okay, well..." said Elle, feeling a bit uncomfortable. But she knew she could explain the birds and the bees, if it came down to it. (Which it wouldn't. She knew Nicole knew that much, at least.) "What is it you want to know?"

"Why do you do it?" Nicole said.

Elle tilted her head. "Umm." Were there any questions that were broader? Besides, like, 'Why are we here' and 'Where are we going.' "Give me a minute, that's a big question."

"I don't mean, like, to have babies or whatever," said Nicole. "I know that happens. Or doesn't, if you're using contraceptives. I know why it's useful. I mean... Why do people choose to do it? Or not, if they're like me."

No, I think you're less likely to not choose it than you think. Elle gave a little frown of concentration. "Well... I dunno. The first answer is that it feels good."

"How does it feel?" Nicole said.

"Well, I can't... I can't answer that."

"Why not? You've done it. You should know what it feels like."

"Yes, but it's hard to describe," Elle said, "and also I think it might be different for each person."

"Oh."

"If you really do want to find out, what you should do is masturbate," said Elle.

"Masturbate," said Nicole. "You mean... Touch myself."

"Yeah," said Elle.

"Yeah," said Nicole, looking away, "that's what... Well. Someone suggested that."

"Oh?" said Elle, curious. "Who?" Who else had Nicole talked to about this?

Nicole looked a little guilty. "Umm..."

"You can tell me," said Elle, smiling.

"Umm... David," Nicole said.

"Oh," said Elle. Well, of course. Who else would she trust? Heck, I wish he were here—it'd be easier on all of us. "Well, you can trust him, I think," she said. "He gives good advice. And I doubt he'll go blabbing about it to anyone else."

"Yeah," said Nicole. "Does... Does it feel good?"

"Does what feel good?"

"When you... Touch yourself."

"Well... Yeah, once you learn how, at least."

"You have to learn how? I... I thought it just came naturally. I thought that when a man and wife..."

"Oh, well..." Elle thought about it. "I mean, yeah, to a certain extent. I mean, a lot of it is instinctual. The first time you're with someone... I mean, he'll get hard, and you'll get wet. If you explore enough."

"That's what my pastor said," Nicole said eagerly. "That a husband and wife should feel free to explore each other's bodies, and bless each other with their nakedness."

"Umm," said Elle. "Riiiiight. Well, yeah, that's part of it." It was certainly true enough, though that was just about the lamest description of it she'd ever heard. "But there's more to it than that, and you aren't going to figure it out just by fumbling. Or by intercourse either, for that matter."

"Why?" said Nicole. "Is it something to do with having a baby?"

Well... "Only kind of. Do you know what an orgasm is?"

Nicole just blinked.

"Okay, I see that you don't. Well. Orgasm is the... God, how do I describe this. It's the physical goal of sex. It's what sex leads to from a physical standpoint."

"I thought that was pregnancy."

"Umm, ye-esssss, that's right, I... Ugh, I wish David were here, he'd know how to explain it. Okay. An orgasm is a physical sensation that is caused by sex. If sex feels good, orgasm feels even better. In men, it causes ejaculation."

"You have to cause that? I thought it just... Happened."

"Well, kind of, yes," Elle said, "because men find it a lot easier to have an orgasm than women do. But it's still a discrete event. A woman can have sex without having an orgasm. ...And, for that matter, a man can too. It's just... Not as likely."

"Because it's easier for them."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"God, I dunno. Umm. That's just how it turned out. It's known that women need more stimulation before they come."

"'Come'?"

"Have an orgasm. But part of it is also... Well, look. Men are socialized to have sex, right? It's just part of the training they receive from society. Men are supposed to have sex."

"Yeah."

"And women aren't."

"Yeah."

"So, you've got a girl and a boy. Both of them decide to... investigate. To explore."

"To touch themselves."

"Yeah. And, in doing so, to learn how to achieve orgasm. Well, when the boy's parents find out, they don't say anything."

"Whereas the girl, for whom it's harder, is discouraged from..."

"Yeah."

"Because that's not how girls are supposed to be."

"Yeah."

"That's... Kind of backwards."

"So, you can do your part in reversing it," Elle said.

"Yeah, but..." Nicole made an uncomfortable gesture. "I've been discouraged from it. I was always told it's dirty."

"And there you go," Elle said. "The point is, if you want to find out about the physical side of sex, there are things you can do that don't involve, you know, actually having it."

"The physical side," Nicole said. She looked up. "There are other sides to it?"

Elle rubbed her face with her hands. Why couldn't she learn to leave well enough alone? "Well... Yes."

Nicole didn't even say anything; she just raised her eyebrows.

"Well... There's an emotional side too," said Elle. "It's... Well. It's hard to explain to someone who's never been in love."

"I... I love my parents," said Nicole.

"Thaaaat's a totally different thing," said Elle, squirming. God, that's horrific. "You're not in love with your parents. It's not the same. There's... Ugh. When you're having sex, it's about... Really caring for this person, and wanting to share things with them, and... It's about intimacy."

"Intimacy," Nicole said.

"Yeah, intimacy," said Elle, knowing she could never explain. She knew, of course; the thrill of having Tom in her, of kissing him, of seeing his face and hearing his moans, of caressing him with her pussy, of knowing that she—she, Danielle Mayer, her body—was bringing him to such heights of pleasure. On top of the thrill of being completely naked with him, of being totally vulnerable to him; on top of the pleasure of his cock drilling into her, his groin against her clit, her nipples tingling and wet in the cold air. But why did she enjoy that? Why did she want to bring him pleasure? Because she loved him, of course; but did Nicole, who had never been on a date in her life, have the emotional context to understand that? "It's... It's something you do with not too many people... And something that, probably, your partner hasn't done with too many people either. You're sharing something very private. You get to... You get to see and know things about them that almost no one else on earth will ever, ever see."

Nicole was silent.

"Nicky, is... Is someone... Trying to push you into something?" Elle was the only person who ever called her that; in some ways, she too was seeing something almost no one would ever see. "Is... I mean, there are all sorts of good reasons to have sex. But if you, you know, touch yourself, you'll soon realize that the, the physical side, the orgasm... You don't need another person for that. And the emotional side... Well, that's only special if you make it special. If you just give that away... So don't give that away, is what I'm saying. Whoever's asking you to do it with them, don't, unless you're really really sure. Sure that you want to, and that you won't regret it."

Nicole looked up. "Would you... Would you think less of me if... If someone was? And I said yes?"

Elle gave her a hug. "I wouldn't think less of you for anything, honey. I'm your friend. I want you to be happy—however you define that."

"Just a friend?" Nicole said. "Oh, Danielle. I wouldn't ask these things of just a friend. I wouldn't ask this of anyone but a sister." And she gave her a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

It was flattering, and the memory of the bestowal stayed with Elle long after the moment itself had passed. But so did Nicole's questions, which seemed so obvious on the surface but were actually more complex than that. And so, bathed in May sunlight, her slit still wet with his spend and hers, she turned to Tom and said, "So, what does sex feel like?"

Tom blinked. "What?"

She decided not to sit up, and just turned her head. His seed still pooled inside her, and it was a feeling she loved; it was warm and heavy in her, like molten silver. Sometimes, if she hadn't come yet, just the feeling of it inside her would push her over the edge. But when she sat up it would slide out; so she liked to spend their post-coital cuddling on her back, her hips tilted up, keeping his precious cum deep inside her for as long as possible. Getting on The Pill had been the smartest decision in her life.

Tom's mother had gone back into the workforce one he went to college, so the house was often empty in the afternoons, and they had taken to coming here for their trysts. She loved this attic room—loved everything it said about him, from the raw wood to the half-rusted nails overhead to the structural trusses holding up the roof. Every surface had a poster or a painting on it; every splash of color said something about him. And here they could be naked in the warm sun. She'd never known she had a nudist streak until that day in the field with David, but now she knew just how much she loved to feel sunlight on her skin, to feel herself bathed in molten gold, to be free and uninhibited in the eyes of nature. If Tom could come visit this summer, she'd have to take him to the field. And here, at his house, in their privacy, there was a lot more time for post-coital cuddling than there would be in her room, where Nicole might walk in at any time. Maybe I should talk to Nicole about renting an apartment off-campus next year. It'd make life a lot easier.

It was comfortable to be here, in Tom's arms, his shoulder pillowing her. I could see myself with this man for the rest of my life, she realized, not for the first time. I could see myself here—in these arms, under this sunlight; with these lips on mine, giving myself to these hips, these legs, this heart—for the rest of my life.

"It just occurred to me to wonder," she said, hedging her bets a little; she wasn't going to tell him whose conversation had sparked the curiosity. "I mean, what does it feel like? What do we compare it to? What does it feel like?"

"Well... It feels good, doesn't it?" he said.

"Yeah, but, that goes without saying."

"And it's fun."

"That's also obvious. Well, okay, let me put it this way: what's your favorite part of sex?"

He rolled onto his side to look at her. "I have to pick just one part?"

She gave him a grin.

"Hmm. Okay, umm... My favorite part would be... Besides all of it, of course. My favorite part is... Making you come. I can feel you getting all tense—your legs come up, and your back arches, and you always push me into your pussy with your hands." He grinned. "And then it happens, and you cry out, and I can feel you squeezing on my fingers, and you just... Go limp. I wish I could do it with my hands, because then I could see your face." He gave her a gentle kiss. "I would love to see your face when you come."

She twined her arms around him and kissed him. "I love you so much, you know."

"I know. I love you too." Then he pulled back to grin. "So, what's yours?"

...What, I have to pick just one?? "Well... Umm. I think..." She laughed. "I mean. There's a lot."

"You're telling me," he said with a wry smile.

"But... I think it's... When you first push into me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I... I mean, it's different after I've come. I feel really relaxed, and, umm. Kinda loose. Down there. There isn't the, umm. Pressure." He nodded. "I mean, when I haven't come, then it feels all... Tight, down there, and, like. Red. And... It feels like there's a hole."

"Well, I sure hope there's a hole," he quipped.

She swatted him. "I mean, it's like there's... It's like there's something missing. And when you slide it in, and, I feel your cock pushing me open..."

He nodded. "It's never quite the same as the first time. You're always... Not as tight."

"Yeah, and it's good to be filled, but... The ache, when it's first filled, it's..." She shook her head.

"I love the way your pussy just... strokes me all around," he said. "And it's so warm."

"Is that different?"

"Well, from my hand, yeah," he said. "It's not as wide as my penis is long, you know. I can't grasp all the way down my own length with my hand. And there isn't that much body temperature difference. And it isn't... I mean, you know what a pussy feels like."

She smiled. "Why, because I have one? Enlighten me."

He blinked. "How do I get myself into these things. Well... When you're just jacking off, I mean, you've got your hand, right? It's not long enough to simulate full penetration, and like I said, the temperature of your hand isn't different from your... yeah. And the texture is different too. And it isn't as... When we're doing it, sometimes you squeeze down. Like, all over me, every inch. I mean, it's soft, but it's muscular at the same time. It's really different from my hand, which is, you know, bumpy with fingers and stuff. And it feels really different. It feels a lot better."

She winked. "Glad you enjoy it."

"Why, how does it feel to you?"

Elle squeezed her eyes closed. "Oh, Christ, uhh... God. I dunno."

He laughed. "I figured it out. I'm sure you can too."

"Well, the... It's different, like you said. I mean, if I'm just... Attending to my own needs... Then I have my hand down there, and I'm wiggling it around and stuff, and... I don't penetrate, normally. It's just not what I do. So having you inside me... Especially when you're fucking me. I feel my whole body moving, and, my breasts, and your thrusts making my legs jiggle, and... It's like you own me. It's vulnerability, in a big way, and that really... I mean, I like being on top too. But it's a different experience. And when you're inside me you're so big, and I can feel everything." She grinned. "And then I make you come. I love making you come."

He smiled. "With your mouth or with your pussy?"

"I dunno. Which do you like more?"

"Which do I like doing?" he said. "Or having done to me?"

She grinned. "Both?"

"Well... They're different. But they're both good. I think, if it's me making you come, I like... Using my cock better."

"That's 'cuz you're in my pussy when you do it that way," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "And it feels good to you too."

"It does, but actually that's kind of a distraction," he said. "I like... I told you, I like being able to watch. I like being able to, what, to really experience your orgasm. And when we're doing it, I get to watch your face, and feel your whole body. But if I'm going down on you, then it's just, like, my mouth and my chin, and your pussy, and nothing else is involved. It's not the same."

"That's true. What about when I make you come?" She gave him a wicked grin. "Where do you like shooting into more, my pussy or my mouth?"

"Umm... Your mouth, I think," he said.

"Oh?" she said. "I would've guessed the other."

"Well, it's for different reasons," he said. "When you're going down on me, it's... It's one way. We're both focusing on my orgasm, and... I mean, you know? We both have more time to concentrate on making me feel good, so it's a... It's a stronger sensation."

That much was true; she could fine-tune his experience when she was sucking him off, which was not something she could do with her pussy. For all his talk about softness, it was much more of a blunt instrument. "Good point."

"Now your turn," he said, shifting position; as he did, his hand casually fell across her mound. She was wet down there, still—and, she realized, again, for all this talk was doing things to her body. "Tell me," he said, as his hand began to massage, "how do you like to come, and how do you like me cumming?"

"Hmm," she said. He seemed actually interested in her answers; his hand was just fooling around a little, touching here and there. "I think... When I come, I like something in me. It just... Feels better when there's something to squeeze down on. And when you come, I... I like it when you're inside me too. I love riding you, and... And being able to move you around inside of me, and get you right in the perfect places for everything. And... You have no idea how much I like feeling your cum inside me." She gave a shudder. "It really, really..."

"No, actually, I had noticed a bit," he said, smiling.

"And I think," she said, reaching for his cock and unsurprised to find it at half mast, "that all this talk has given me a lot of good ideas as to what I want to do to you before your mother comes home."

And that was the end of conversation for a while.

Of course, sex, or talking about it, wasn't all she did. At the end of her sophomore year, Elle had to declare a major; no matter how unprepared she felt about it, she needed to choose a direction and follow it. "It's kind of scary," she told Nicole. "...Actually, I'm not sure which is scarier: having to choose a direction, or not being sure what to choose."

"I can imagine," said Nicole. She was one of the lucky ones: she'd been an education major from her first day. David had decided he loved architecture and was pursuing it, but he quoted to her a helpful statistic: "I've heard that the number of people who go into jobs that are actually related to their bachelor's degree is something like 2%. These days, it's okay to have a degree that isn't really practical; they don't care what your degree is in, only that you have it. Now, a master's, on the other hand..."

"Oh God," said Elle. "Let's not think about that for two years at least."

She was also meeting new people every quarter. Some of them were just people she added to Facebook and didn't think much of; others started being part of her life. One was a girl she met in her general-requirements English course. She was loud and outspoken, and didn't give a fig about the teacher's agenda, which she claimed was evident from the reading list. "I don't know what you're trying to peddle here. The Taming of the Shrew? The Crucible? The Scarlet Letter? The Father by Strindberg?? And this college is 65% women by attendance rate. Who the hell hired you? I'm gonna have a talk with the head of the department about this."

Elle, watching this girl, couldn't help but remember Weston and his opinion that she (Elle) herself was a bitch. Good thing he never met this gal. For her part, she immediately spoke up and said, "So, are you gonna drop this class then?"

The girl grumped. "Wish I could. But all the other ones were full by the time I got to register. Still." Her eyes took on a wolfish gleam. "Might be fun."

Elle chased this girl down after class let out. "Wow, umm. You must have balls of steel."

The girl turned to her, folding her arms across her ample bosom. "Balls? Do I look like I have balls to you?"

"You sure acted like it in there," Elle said.

The girl gave her a moment's cold-eyed consideration before turning away. Her reply echoed up over her shoulder. "Kid, go back home and play with your clothes. I don't belong in your Barbie-Doll clique. I'm the kind of girl your mother warned you about."

Elle felt anger buck under her. "You know, I was trying to compliment you. And I doubt you get so many of those that you can just turn one down."

The girl looked back, this time with a little hint of respect in her eyes. "Oh, so you do have a backbone."

"Just because I don't sass teachers doesn't mean I'm a wimp," said Elle.

"Fair enough," said the girl. "But you're still gonna get odd looks consorting with me. Look at me. I'm an obese monster in goth clothing, and you're a runaway runway model."

"Wrong," said Elle, "and wrong. You may be overweight, but if you're an ounce above size sixteen, I'm a pecan. And size sixteen's the national average. It's people like me who are the freaks."

"You probably still get more dates than me, though," the girl said.

"Not really, I've been in a relationship for years," said Elle.

"Oh," said the girl. "And you're a... pecan?"

Elle felt her face coloring. "Umm. Well, as you can see, my being so slim has also resulted in my brain being tiny."

The girl burst out laughing. She had a loud, infectious laugh. "Fair enough." She extended her hand. "I'm Jodie Wycroft."

"Jo— Jodie Wycroft??" Instead of taking the girl's hand, Elle jumped about a foot in the air.

"Why, what's wrong with that name?" said the girl.

"Jodie Wycroft who used to date Weston McCullough?" said Elle.

The girl squinted at her. "How in seven hells do you know my ex-boyfriend?"

"I... We went to Sheldon Oaks together," said Elle. "We used to date."

Jodie Wycroft planted hands on hips. "That's the most outlandish thing I've ever heard. We have the same ex-boyfriend and we are going to the same college, but we've never met before."

"Not as weird as me running into my other ex-boyfriend here," Elle countered. "But how'd you get here? Weston said you were going to Whitman State. That's why he went there."

"Ha!" said Jodie. "Weston's stuck at that shithole? Serves him right. As for me, there was a flap. Right as my acceptance letter was landing on their desk, one of their professors—the professor I very specifically wanted to study under, I might add—was convicted on child pornography charges. I had to fight them until the last minute before they'd let me revoke my acceptance, and by then it was too late to be accepted at any other colleges. So I worked for a year and then got here."

"God, he used to compare me to you all the time," Elle said. "He said you were way better in bed than I was."

Jodie gave a snort. "He would do that. Weston's an asshole. Good in bed, mind, but, once he was gone... I was like, 'God, why am I wasting time on this loser?' "

"He said you cheated on him," said Elle.

"He'd say that too," said Jodie. "And, there is a certain amount of truth to it. What happened was that I had decided to call him at the end of the first week and tell him that I didn't want to put myself on hold for him. I mean, would you?"

Elle gave a noise of derision.

"Yeah, exactly. And if I had just kept it to that—I've fallen out of love with you, our lives are going in different directions, blahblahblabbitybloo—it all would've worked out. But I made the mistake of mentioning that there was someone else I was interested in. And he just exaggerated it from there. He likes to make himself seem like the victim."

"Did you actually get together with the new guy?" Elle asked.

Jodie gave an unladylike snort. "No. We dated a couple times and he got scared off. It's just been me and my vibrator since."

There were still students walking around them, both to and from classes. "Would you like to come back to my place?" said Elle. "My roommate should be home, you can meet her too." And so they trudged through the January rain to Elle's apartment.

She and Nicole had indeed made the decision to rent off-campus as juniors. They weren't too much farther from their main buildings as they had been at Di Auellio, and the apartment gave them some benefits—like separate bedrooms. They had more space to spread out and decorate, and Elle and Tom had much more privacy now. Mindful of the circumstances, she had bought a pair of heart-shaped magnets, one for her and one for Nicole, which they were to use in case one of them was entertaining a man (in Elle's case) or herself (in Nicole's case). The general policy was, if the heart magnet was out, its owner was not to be disturbed under any circumstances short of imminent death, dismemberment or general calamity. Nicole used her heart a lot more than Elle had expected, even though she didn't (to Elle's knowledge) have a boyfriend. And how would she without me knowing?, she wondered. She'd tell me. She'd be proud. And I'd be proud of her.

Despite the relative earliness of the hour—it was not yet four in the afternoon—Nicole had her heart out. David was nowhere to be seen either; he was such a frequent visitor that they had often joked about just making him another key. Tom was off at classes; maybe he'd call. Or maybe he was painting and would be absorbed for hours. Now, after more than two years, Elle was used to his need for solitude. Nicole's probably the same. That's probably what she uses the heart for. She just needs time alone, to... What was it Tom said? 'Take my soul out, dust it off, and look at how it's changed recently.'

"Hmm, looks like my roommate wants her privacy," said Elle. "Well, we can still talk."

"I still can't believe you wanna be my friend," said Jodie. "I mean, isn't it weird, talking with your ex's ex?"

"Hell no!" Elle exclaimed, "I wanna vent!"

Jodie gave a grin. "Girl, I like the way you think."

They talked about where they had been. Jodie described her high school life both with and without Weston, and then her last three years as a high-school graduate, member of the workforce, and college student. She had gotten most of the way through it when a gust of noise came from Nicole's room: some shifting and thumping, and some very... notable moaning. The kind of moaning that only came from one thing.

"Hmm, sounds like someone's having fun in there," Jodie said. "Is this normal?"

"What?" said Elle. "No, not hardly, she's very... She's pretty Christian. When I said I could loan her my vibrator if she wanted, she..."

Another series of muffled noises issued from within.

Jodie tilted her head. "Sounds like someone's in there with her."

Elle shook her head. "Couldn't be. She's not seeing anyone. I'd know."

"Would you?"

"We're close," said Elle. "I mean, I'm the person she comes to for things like this. She's like my kid sister."

"I see."

"...Well," said Elle. "And David, I know she goes to David with some of that stuff too."

"David?" said Jodie.

"My best friend," Elle said. "My other ex-boyfriend."

"Hmm," said Jodie with a hooded smile. "There's a story there." So Elle told her what had happened: meeting him at the age of six, kissing him at the age of eight, the long build-up towards their first time, the pain of losing him and the relief of having his friendship back. During this time, Nicole—and whoever else was in there with her, if there was anybody, which Danielle doubted—finished up and fell quiet. Elle was just getting to the present day when the door opened and a babble of voices joined her own.

"I don't think that I—" Nicole was saying. And then: "Shh. There's someone there."

Jodie arched an eyebrow. Elle felt her jaw drop.

"Umm," said Nicole's voice. "Hello?"

"Ah—" said Elle. "Ah— Ah—" This was not meant to be reasoned discourse; it was simply the sound of her voice phonating while she tried to regain control of her jaw. "Ah. Hi, Nicole."

"Umm. Hi, Elle. Is there... Is there someone out there with you?"

"I've made a new friend," said Elle. "Her name is Jodie. Why don't you come out and say hi to her?"

Jodie was much more forthright. "We know there's someone in there with you, honey. It's okay. You can bring him out." A laugh: "Or her. If it's a her."

There was a low, whispered conversation—enough to reveal that, yes, there was someone else in there with her; and yes, it was a man. Elle felt like the floor was dropping out from under her: Nicole? Sweet, innocent, virginal Nicole? The idea that she might be making love was not particularly astounding; Elle knew by now that Nicole had the same urges anyone did, and that, if she found the right man, she might well indulge them. But what right man? Who could she possibly be with?

Then Nicole said, "Okay. We're, umm. We're coming out." Her voice was profoundly miserable, and she emerged from the hallway with tear-streaked, guilty eyes. Behind her was a man, holding her hand, being led by her and yet at the same time prompting her along. His face emerged into the gray half-light of the rainy January day. Elle felt her mouth drop open again.

"David??"