It felt familiar, soothing. The world'scares fell away. For a moment, Bobbie forgot about Bobbie. She was Robbagain, lost in a world of unfamiliar sensation that smelled bothfamiliar and wrong. The tongue withdrew as the other head backed away."Is that a mustache, or did someone put a candle on your face? Beat it,breeder," she said, turning to Mr. Mustache."Lesbians," he breathed as he turned and walked away."Bobbie, right? I remember you from lunch on the first day. That guy.Hipsters, ugh," She offered her red cup, which she took and finished inone gulp."Yeah, sorry about that. That guy is such a douchebag. He dated mysister. He would have played you some indie band's love song in a veinattempt to get you to suck his cock. I'm Mary and..."Bobbie only caught snatches of the rest, the kiss lingering in her mind.The contents of the cup making her head swim. "I...I need some air," Shestarted toward the patio.Oh, God. A girl just kissed me. But I'm a girl. It felt good. It feltweird. It. Hiding behind a big tree, he waits for her to appear, he’ll never catch her on speed, he needs cunning. A wolf to her vixen. As she rounds the trunk, calling, he catches her by the waist and takes her mouth, treacherously gentle. She responds in kind, glad to be forgiven, opening her soft lips to receive his searching tongue, contrite. Instead of putting his arms about her, he holds her hands in his, first down by her sides, then gradually lifting them. Kissing her sweetly, kindly, deceptively. When her arms are stretched above her head and her breasts are lifted too, eager nipples hardening with anticipation through the material of her blouse onto his bare chest, he shows his duplicity. With a deft, strong movement he grasps her tiny wrists in one hand and forces her around so that she is facing the tree. Her profile against the rough bark. She struggles, but he is firm. With his free hand he tears off the flimsy skirt and pulls down her cami knickers to half mast around her.
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