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They share the same hammock on cold nights, sun-browned skin tangled around its milky twin, rocking them together, as if in a wooden cradle.

The small hands Mary Ann hold have been roughened slightly by the work they’ve been doing about the hut, but she doesn’t mind the slightly-calloused appeal of them as they run over Mary Ann’s vulnerable curves. Ginger’s fingers are teasing – they flirt as much as the rest of her – and Mary Ann allowed herself to be as charmed and beguiled as any of her fellow castaways. Ginger makes it so easy for her to run away, and Mary Ann gives herself away to them shamelessly. They delve into places Mary Ann would have considered forbidden back home, in her lonely bed on the farm, urging her own fingers to come to life and take a similar journey.

Stroking Ginger brings up protective urges that surprise her still. She thinks to herself that she’ll make up a coconut milk balm to protect the both of them – no use in anyone getting roughened up by this marooning. They’ll be here for awhile yet – she just knows it – and doesn’t want either of them to end up all shriveled up.

She doesn’t think about what they’ll do when they get rescued – that would force her to think of time lived without Ginger – but she’s not impractical enough to imagine that she’ll never have to. As much as she loves this idyl, the wonder of being a starstruck fan swept up in the magnetic pull of their favorite star, she misses her farm, the sun-blessed dirt of her home, and the comfort of her family.

For as much as she adores Ginger’s beautiful body, she loves herself just as much.