She touched me the way she wanted to be touched, and I imitated her finger strokes. We'd lie on top of the cotton sheets next to the open window and l...t the salt breeze wash over us as I learned what it was like to have an orgasm brought only by someone else's tongue. Gone were the painful and fumbling pokes and jabs and thrusts that I remembered from under the stadium bleachers.She took me dancing, and introduced me to places I'd only imagined. Bars full of women, openly admiring each other.. ’ The florist van that entered her line of vision and stopped in front of her house reminded her that it was Valentine’s Day. She put her coffee cup down on the coaster on the side table and jumped up. She looked in the mirror, fixed her hair, adjusted the tie tighter on her bathrobe, and looked out the window again before unlocking and opening the door. It had been years since her husband had bought her flowers. She couldn’t remember exactly when, but it was before they bought the house. Then,. More

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