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He laughed. “My lady denies my cock, and yet I the fuckless tease?”I snarled. At this rate I’d be making a puddle on the floor.“To watch my lady at her formal best, conversing with Mane, dancing and shifting to her body’s need.” He grinned wickedly. “Oh, Ashley, how will he react when you lose it and he sees a dark pee spot spread across your gown? How will you react when you can tell he’s scenting the musk of your urine?”I sucked air, biting my lip hard to distract myself.He finished. “Ah, that’s better.“The thing is you can probably pull it off. Perhaps you’ll turn beet-red and wish you died of embarrassment, but you’ll actually hold the conversation together and expect him to do the same.”Matthew went to put on his pants and shirt. He did not fully dress because he’d be adjusting his clothes for his holsters in a few minutes. We went to our van with no additional teasing; I briefed him on the deaths along the way.“Do you have any idea how that is possible?” he asked.“No, at least. She reminded herself that not all softball players were lesbians.* * * That night, Becky was feeling lonely. Her lunch with Kate had made her itchy for companionship. She called Peter, but his roommate said he was at the library and would not be back until late. She thought about leaving a message telling him to come over, but decided against it. If he came over late, he would stay the night, and every time he stayed the night there was pressure for them to have sex. Peter was very good; he never pushed. He clearly wanted to fuck her (a chill went through Becky's spine when she thought the word "fuck," it made her feel dirty), but he respected her wishes. They usually just necked and when Peter slept over they played spoons, but little else. Occasionally, when she got him especially excited, she would give him a handjob (and rush to Confession the next day). She would let him play with her breasts, little as they were, but never let him touch her "down there." Becky often wondered.
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