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She rolled over onto me, her thighs squeezing my hips tightly as she settled on my stomach. Her lips, still red with slightly smeared lipstick the color of wine, parted as her breath came tight and shallow. Smoldering, her eyes burned deep coffee, studying me. I could feel my skin, myself growing hotter under her gaze.

Tentatively I reached up and touched her cheeks, her lips, willing the passion I felt to flow from the tips of my fingers and into her skin; asking them to say what I wasn’t, what I couldn’t. She sighed and kissed my palm, her cheek resting in the cup, her teeth grazing on the pad of my thumb. Leaning down and she kissed me deeply, our lips fitting together as if by design, moving in ways that were quickly becoming familiar; the transition from friends to other, flawless and natural.

I am at her mercy and god, am I happy to be so. My body arched toward hers, willing, hoping to be devoured by her.

I could smell the scent of her; the familiar scent of the person who had been my comfort and my security; my best friend for many years, she bent to softly kiss my neck, my chest, my breast and up my arm.

She chuckled breathily and I smiled as our fingers intertwined. Slowly she guided my hand to her, encouraging and instructing me. My stomach clenched in such a way that I felt it from my toes to the tips of my hair, a sudden jerking quiver of anticipation. I sat up, hand exploring and her chuckle twisted immediately as my fingers found her center. It was the first time I had ever touched her there and the feel, the scent was bewitching, an intoxicating form of heaven.

She let out a soft sound, so soft that it could have been made in sleep. Cupping my cheek again she kissed my face as I touched her, sensual lips brushed my eyelids, my forehead, my jaw. Each spot seared, glowing into my skin. My own body responded, startling me and pushing me forward, need filling me. She lifted my face, her eyes searching for mine and once she found them she held them as small breaths of expectancy falling from her lips as she waited for me. I held her gaze, unable to let go, a ball of emotion sitting heavily on my chest.

Ginny. Ginny, I love you so much; the words settled in my mind but I was afraid to let them pass my lips. Her eyes registered the thought, hearing my words through the bond we had shared since childhood. She knew. There was no need to tell her.

How long had I loved her? I didn’t know…perhaps I always had. Perhaps only in this moment…truly, it didn’t matter.

Holding her tightly by the hip to steady her and lock her to me, I entered her. Her eyes closed, rolled and her mouth fell open, stirring within me lustful desires like I had never felt before. I stilled and waited. I watched every breath she took and loved every shudder, lost in the ways her eyes moved under the lids as if she were dreaming. Possibly she was just relishing the transition…because she loved me…didn’t she? Suddenly that fact seemed so clear, a dawning realization that I felt stupid for never seeing before.

She loved me.

Slowly she moved on me once, letting out a quivering moan. She moved a second time and the noise grew louder. With surprise I realized my own voice rose with hers, every movement she made directly connected to my core. I could feel the pull inside of me.

She moved once more, the heel of her shoe grazing sharply against my thigh and her body slunk forward, her hair obscuring her eyes in a sheet of chestnut, her hand firmly between my breasts for support. All I could see of her face were those parted lips; I had to push forward quickly and take them. Her lips responded just as fiercely to mine for a second before I fell back down, unable to hold the position.

She smiled.

I smiled.

This time when she moved she was quick and purposeful. We rocked together, steadily panting together, toes curling, breast heaving.

Then she fell forward with her face in my neck, her hair covering my eyes and my mouth as she rocked against me, softly kissing and biting the skin there. I bit her shoulder, my arm wrapping tightly around her back, keeping rhythm with her.

My hand was beginning to twist and cramp and though I had been trying to ignore it, I let out a little squeak of pain. We laughed together as she rolled off of me, violently kicking her shoes off and then stretching her body long against mine. Face to face and forehead to forehead we kissed, as our hands gently explored the places we had never touched one another before.

Scooting closer she nuzzled my neck and whispered, perhaps whimpered “Em. My Em. I…” Her breath hitched and I gasped, clutching her as I felt her probing fingers and I…I…



Emma woke with a guilty start. For a moment, all she could do was blink dumbly into the darkness and let the feeling of Regina’s long ago body slip from her.

Regina. Oh god, no!

Her brain groaned and swore at her as she covered her eyes tightly with her palms. She pressed until white spots glowed in the darkness, trying to forget the image of the woman on top of her. She tried to forget her face and slightly parted lips hidden by the warm chestnut hair that she used to love so much. She didn’t want to think about that! More importantly, she shouldn’t think about that!

This was the third time in the last two weeks that this dream had made its unwelcome reappearance after three years of lying dormant and nearly forgotten. She hated it, and she hated the midnight emotional stress it brought with it. Though, at least this time the dream wasn’t combined with the tears that had accompanied the first two occurrences. Perhaps her skin was growing as calloused as it had become years ago when night would bring her unwelcomed longings and sadness.

Emma hated the tears. They were a betrayal of her insistence that she was over and done with the whole damned issue, a status she thought she had proudly perfected years ago. Not only was she sure that the shuddering loneliness had finally gone but she had also stopped thinking of Regina completely over a year ago.

This had been a great success. But now, after these damned haunting dreams, she felt as lonely and sad as she had the day she moved to New Orleans.

Logically, she understood the source of the step backward was her sudden plans to be back in her hometown for the first time in five years but that did not mean that she was okay with it.

She rolled over in the dark, looking at Hanna’s sleeping figure and thought of waking her. But what would be the purpose? Sex? It was true the dream left her with an excited wanting feeling but no; that would be inappropriate. So what would be the purpose then? Support? No, she couldn’t share the details of this dream, not with Hanna. Not without worrying or upsetting her and forcing a much longer and more complicated conversation into life. At the beginning of their relationship, by mutual agreement, she and Hanna had decided to avoid the awkward and uncomfortable conversation about past romances. At the time it had seemed like a godsend of an idea but it also meant that Emma had never shared the details of how her relationship with her best friend had begun and ended within twenty-four hours, days before her move from her tiny hometown in Maine.

Besides, Hanna worked very hard and always looked so tired. She would be up around four in the morning to head to the gym. No, she wouldn’t wake her. Hanna needed her rest.  

Distressed she wiped the unnerving sweat from her forehead and affectionately ran her hand through Hanna’s hair, trying to force her mind to think about other things. She needed to get back to sleep; she didn’t want to be tired on her last day home.

Cuddling close to Hanna she decided she would just dismiss the dream and all thoughts of her former best friend…as she always did.

After all, she was getting married soon and she didn’t have time to dwell on the past. When she woke the next morning, the feeling of the dream would have slipped from her and everything would be perfect - just like always.