Oliver clicked the door shut, feeling very privileged to have his own key. "George?" he called out, as he could see no one in the apartment. "You here?"

"Oh, thank God it's you!" Georgie called back. "C'mere!"

"Where are you? What's the matter?"

"Bathroom. Nothing. Just... get in here."

Ollie walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. George was lying back in the old-fashioned bathtub, steam rising from it, and bubbles overflowing onto the floor somewhat erratically. In a valley of the bubble landscape, her pale breasts with bold freckles and bright nipples were visible. Her hands held a tablet, silvery on the back, and she was grinning widely. He thought she looked gorgeous.

"Oh, hey you," he said. "I would kiss you, but I don't want all those bubbles."

"Chicken. Am I late?"

"Nope. Mark cancelled, so I'm early. This is what you do when I'm not here?"

"Well, no... but you were out, Zoe is... somewhere doing something, and I just felt like a little bath reading."

"Oh? Watcha reading?"

"Ah... actually, tell you in a minute. Get a chair, would you?"

"A chair?"

"Yeah, come and sit with me?"

"Hell, yeah. Nice view!"

When Oliver got back with the chair, George had propped herself up a little more, and her breasts were out of the water. "Jesus, now the view is outstanding!"

"I was getting a little warm."

"Me too."

"Sit, sit." Ollie sat down, and George handed him the mostly bubble-free tablet. "I... umm... look, I was reading some..."

"George, your face has gone even redder."

"Yeah, shut up. Reading some... erotica."

"Porn, you mean?"

"Kinda."

"You're so cute when you're embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed. I just wasn't... expecting anyone."

"Uh huh." We grinned at each other.

"Anyway, just... just read me that bit on the screen?"

"It's timed out, George. You need to put your password in."

"Bubbles, Ollie. You do it."

"I don't know your password."

"Oh." She blushed yet again. "It's ollierocks."

"No."

"Yeah. One word. Lower case."

"You are lovely, you know that, right? o-l-l-i-e-r-o-c-k-s. Okay, I'm... Oh."

"Hmmm?"

"What have you been reading?"

"Told you."

"You, dearest Georgia, have a dirty mind."

"Well, you knew that."

"Yeah, but now I have proof. Hell, I can go to the media."

"And tell them what?"

"George is a pervert. She reads porn in the bath."

"Erotica."

"Whatever."

"And tries, largely unsuccessfully, to masturbate."

"What?"

"Well, I needed two hands, see, and I needed one for the tablet."

"You amaze me."

"What, my lack of dexterity?"

"No, your big mouth."

"You love my mouth."

"I do."

"Read. What's the next one?"

"Er... Just read it out?"

"Title and author first, of course."

"Okay, this is Fingersmith, by..."

"Sarah Waters. I've read that. Go, go."

"Where are your lips," I said.

"My lips?" she answered in a tone of surprise. "They are here."

"Oh, I remember this, Ollie. No need for the funny voices. You've got it wrong anyway. Two women."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. More."

I knew how to do it all right, for Dainty had shown me, once. Kissing Maud, however, was not like kissing her. It was like kissing the darkness. As if the darkness had life, had a shape, had taste, was warm and glib. Her mouth was still, at first. Then it moved against mine. Then it opened. I felt her tongue. I felt her swallow. I felt—

I had done it, only to show her. But I lay with my mouth on hers and felt, starting up in me, everything I had said would start in her, when Gentleman kissed her. It made me giddy. It made me blush, worse than before.

"You've read this?"

"Uh huh."

"Pervert."

"You already said."

"I just wanted to congratulate you again."

"Oliver, could you read some more? I need to concentrate."

"Hmm? Oh!" Ollie could see George moving under the foam. Her hand was jiggling the bubbles, and her shoulder was nudging backwards and forwards. "I'll... just give me a moment."

"You can watch between passages, okay?" George said, smiling but with her eyes still shut.

"Okay. Okay. Hold on."

"Always, Ollie."

"Um... Mario Puzo."

"No, really?"

"The Godfather."

"Give it to me."

"Hmmm..."

"Read."

"Alright, alright."

Now as she ran up the steps toward Sonny a tremendous flash of desire went through her body. On the landing Sonny grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall into an empty bedroom. Her legs went weak as the door closed behind them. She felt Sonny's mouth on hers, his lips tasting of burnt tobacco, bitter. She opened her mouth. At that moment she felt his hand come up beneath her bridesmaid's gown, heard the rustle of material giving way, felt his large warm hand between her legs, ripping aside the satin panties to caress her vulva. She put her arms around his neck and hung there as he opened his trousers. Then he placed both hands beneath her bare buttocks and lifted her. She gave a little hop in the air so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper thighs. His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it. He gave a savage thrust that banged her head against the door. She felt something bumming pass between her thighs.

"Bumming?"

"Don't stop!"

"Oh, right..."

She let her right hand drop from his neck and reached down to guide him. Her hand closed around an enormous, blood-gorged pole of muscle. It pulsated in her hand like an animal and almost weeping with grateful ecstasy she pointed it into her own wet, turgid flesh. The thrust of its entering, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp, brought her legs up almost around his neck, and then like a quiver, her body received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until for the first time in her life, she reached a shattering climax, felt his hardness break and then the crawly flood of semen over her thighs. Slowly her legs relaxed from around his body, slid down until they reached the floor. They leaned against each other, out of breath.

"Well, fuck, Ollie."

"Yeah?"

"Fuck, yeah. Next."

"Gimme a second. I'm watching you."

"Read!"

"Just finding one you might like..."

"I like them all. Oh, fuck."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Soon. Come on."

"How about... um... Abigail Barnette?"

"Never heard of her."

"It's called The Boss."

"Go."

I closed my eyes and stroked two fingers down my slit. My hips lifted. I'd been so eager for this moment, now it seemed like my skin was too sensitive to touch. I thought of what Neil would see when he walked in, and remembered the undisguised appreciation in his eyes while he'd watched our hands on my body.

"Not very subtle, is it?"

"Good thing, at this point."

"Okay, hold on..."

My fingertips circled my clit, and a shaky breath stuttered across my lips. My flesh felt hot and heavy under my hand, and I cupped myself, letting my fingers slip between the folds of my sex.

The door clicked open, and the weight of my desire became like an electric current. My lungs seized, my limbs quivered. I opened my eyes, a soft groan escaping me when I saw Neil there. He closed the door and dropped his messenger bag.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

"More?"

"little... bit..."

"Oh god." My exclamation tore out on a ragged breath, and I pressed my thighs together against the pounding ache in my cunt. I wanted him so badly I trembled, but I was afraid of what would happen when we actually touched. The longing, the desperate, clawing sexual need that had been missing from every encounter I'd had in the intervening six years crashed over me, turned my blood into liquid desire coursing to every throbbing cell in my body.

"Is it okay to say 'cunt'?"

"Fuck, yeah!"

"Okay."

"One more."

"Oh, there's more in that one."

I stroked myself, letting my fingers wander further, to dip inside before tracing upward again, coated in the evidence of my overwhelming desire. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clitoris, into the short, neatly trimmed strip of hair on my mound.

"Oh, oh, good... Oooh... good choice. Fuck!"

George had been wriggling vigorously under the water, and now her body stiffened, and her hand appeared, blurrily because of the bubbles, rubbing frantically between her legs as she came, shuddering, gasping for breath.

Ollie just waited and watched for a moment before he spoke. "That shy girl? The one who was nervous to ask me to watch? What did you do with her?"

George relaxed back into the water, and grinned at him. "You cured her, Dr Oliver. Are you pleased?"

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do. Put that tablet down, would you?"

He placed the tablet carefully in the sink.

"Oh, look at that, I'm not the only one getting excited."

"Well, if you will show off like that..."

"You'd better get those pants off."

"Oh?"

"Or they'll get all bubbly."

"Yeah, but..."

"Now."

"Yes, Miss. I must say, this is an odd way to show respect for your doctor."

George lifted herself up and turned in the bath, so she was on her knees, and facing him, her face smiling wonderfully, her freckled breasts, half-covered in foam, jutting out. Ollie did what she said, and lost the pants.

He sat back down, just wearing a shirt now, and George reached over, put one hand on his leg, and took his cock in the other. It was already hard, but the situation helped as well.

She looked up and him, and smiled again. And then started stroking. "So, Ollie?"

"Uh huh."

"Did you like the stories?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"I kinda like you reading them to me. Especially... the dirty words."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You don't talk like that, much. You could, you know, if you wanted to."

"I... Oh, that's just... just right... I could?"

"Yeah. Not in the street. Not in the mall. Not with company. But yeah, just with me."

"Oh... Well, fuck."

"Yeah. And did you like walking in on me?"

"Yeah. I did. A lot."

"You going to come for me?"

"Oh, yeah. A lot."

And he did. Oliver's muscles tensed, and his hips pushed out and up from the chair, and while George calmly stroked his cock and talked to him, he shivered, pulsed, and came all over those freckled breasts.