Tara was sixteen, two years older than Dana, so it made sense that Tara’d had more sex. Still, Dana was shocked when Tara admitted how many guys she’d slept with.

“Twenty-nine?” Dana managed not to squeak out. “You’re—sure?”

Tara’s smile thinned. She shrugged and looked a little away from Dana. “I started keeping track after six. Otherwise I would have lost count.”

“How long have you... ?”

“Since I was twelve.”

Dana stopped on the sidewalk. A second later, Tara noticed and stopped as well. Before she attracted more attention, Dana walked on. When she was twelve, Dana had barely started noticing that boys were good for more than being icky. Or that girls could be more than just friends. She decided to play it cool. “Get out. When? Who?”

“Todd,” Tara said quietly.

Wait—what? Surely not. Dana lost all pretense of cool. “Your brother?”

Tara shrugged. After a moment, she said, “I walked in on him jerking off.” Tara paused, then smiled and said, “So we fucked.” As if that had been completely normal.

As if incest was nothing. As if whose cock was inside her meant nothing—to her. Dana wondered if that was how Tara had managed to sleep with so many boys. And what that meant for the two of them.

They walked on together. After several seconds, Dana blurted, “Do you still—?” before she stopped herself. She hadn’t meant to ask that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Not since he left for college,” Tara said.

Which had been, what—two years ago? Tara’d had sex with her brother for two years? Dana took a deep breath. “Did anyone know?”

Tara shook her head. “Just his two friends. They were my third and fourth.”

Suddenly, Dana didn’t want to know who’d been second. Or anyone else. She wasn’t sure she wanted to continue the conversation. She’d started asking because Tara seemed unusually open that afternoon, and Dana wanted to know how many girls Tara had been with. And it was always easier to talk about your boys, before you asked about other girls.

“You’re shocked,” Tara said.

“I—” Dana shook her head. “A little. I’ve never met someone who ... you know.”

Tara smiled grimly, her open mood gone. “And you don’t like it.”

Dana stopped walking again. They were in the shade of an ancient cottonwood tree, overhanging the sidewalk along the riverside park. She thought for a moment, picking carefully through her feelings—revulsion, worry, attraction. Then she looked at the older girl. As honestly as she could, she said, “It’ll take a little getting used to the idea of—of incest. But that you had sex with Todd doesn’t bother me any more than with any other boy. Or—or other girl.”

Tara looked at her steadily. Finally, she said, “Sometimes, I don’t know what to make of you.”

“How about a friend?” Dana said. Then she blushed—that had to be, like, the second oldest line in history, right after ‘Let’s just be friends.’ She added, “That didn’t come out right.”

“Right,” Tara said with a smile, almost a smirk, “you meant ‘girlfriend’.”

Dana blushed harder. She couldn’t deny it. Nor could she say anything.

When finally she looked at Tara, the girl jerked her head back behind her, towards the trunk of the cottonwood tree. “Come on,” she said, and led her around to a park bench on the other side, in the shade. Dana stared at the bench. She’d walked past the park for three years now, and never noticed it. They sat down together, a few inches apart.

The delay gave Dana’s face time to cool off, a little.

“How about you?” Tara asked. “How many boys?”

“Um,” Dana said. It was only fair. And when she’d started this, she’d fully intended to be honest. Her stomach still felt like it was trying to squirm out her spine. “Two,” she said. “A boy at school—we went out for a couple weeks. And a guy at camp.”

“Camp,” Tara said with a wicked smile.

“Um. Yeah.” Dana wasn’t proud of Chuck and Ami—far from it. Though compared to Todd, how bad were they, really? She watched the soccer players at the other end of the field. “There was a girl I was crushing on. As in head over heels. And this boy, and she couldn’t decide between us. So she refused to.”

After a couple moments, Tara said, “What happened?” Quietly, not cruel.

Dana continued to watch the players. “We agreed only to do it all together. I’d had sex with them twice when I found out that A— that she was screwing him alone in secret.”

“Ouch.” Then after a moment, Tara said, “Bitch.”

Dana took a deep breath, and finally glanced at Tara. She looked almost angry, or hurt, or maybe just troubled. Dana met her eyes. “I got over it.”

Tara’s eyes were green now—light green, shading to brown. When one moment stretched into three, Dana almost reached for Tara’s hand—but then Tara looked away and said, “See, that’s is why liking someone is dangerous.” Softly, as to herself—as if she were talking about herself, instead of Dana and Ami.

Dana wasn’t sure what to say to that. “It can be.” Where had that line come from? Oh yes—Aunt Kira, after Janet, Dana’s first girlfriend, had broken up with her.

“It is dangerous,” Tara said sharply.

Dana’s parents weren’t exactly poster children for happy marriages. Kira, on the other hand. “My aunt’s been with her partner for 20 years.”

That caught Tara’s attention—she knew what ‘partner’ meant. “Happily?” she finally said.

“They moved to Massachusetts last year, and got married two months ago.” Dana smiled at the memory—even aside from the beautiful Quaker wedding in a historic Meeting House, she’d met more lesbians in one place than she ever had before.

Tara grunted. “And you’re following in their footsteps?”

Dana shuddered involuntarily. “I hate slush.”

“I—” Tara shook her head as a laugh escaped her. “I meant, are you a dyke?”

“I don’t know,” Dana said honestly. “I mean, I look at more girls and think ‘Oo!’ than I do boys—but I do find some boys cute. And I liked sex with Brad. But I’ve gone out with more girls.” Where going out mostly meant making out in private. But putting out counted as going out.

Tara snorted silently, as if to say ‘fair enough.’ Aloud, “And that would be how many?” Meaning how many girls.

“Um—six or seven. I’d have to—” but Tara held up her hand and said, “I don’t need, yanno, the whole list.”

Dana couldn’t help herself—she took the hand in her own. It was warm, but not sweaty—soft. Her palm tingled as they clasped, fingers wrapping around. Tara’s fingers were long and lean—like a musician’s hands. “And you?” she finally asked.

Tara frowned. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed. The first I’ve wanted to.”

“But—!” Dana cut herself off. Tara raised her eyebrows. Dana picked her words carefully. “You’re very good.” Meaning, the time they had sex. “I thought for sure you’d had at least one or two experienced lovers.” More experienced than herself. But she didn’t say that.

“Ah,” Tara said obscurely. “Let’s just say I’ve watched enough porn to get an education.”

Porn? At sixteen? Dana wondered if this story would shock her as much as Todd. Or if she wanted to find out.

When she looked in Tara’s eyes, she found she did. Yes, she wanted to learn this girl, this tall, sharp-tongued young woman who tasted of oranges and chocolate. She wanted to learn everything she could, even the painful parts. Especially the painful parts, if it would help. Tara didn’t deserve pain. Not that anyone did, but this wasn’t anyone—this was her.

After a minute of looking into each other’s eyes, Tara said softly, “Let’s go.”

They stood together. Dana was prepared to drop Tara’s hand, if the she wanted. But Tara didn’t let go. They returned to the sidewalk, hand in hand. After a couple steps, they shifted, interlacing fingers, Dana’s hand behind Tara’s, so it was easier to walk with their difference in heights.

Without speaking about it, they turned at the corner, heading toward Tara’s house. They walked the three blocks side by side, not letting go. The light slanted yellow through the oaks, like a golden layer of heat. The last block, Dana’s heart started pounding. Even if nothing happened, even if they never talked to each other again, she’d remember this walk—remember that there had been something between them, if only for these minutes. Enough something that Tara was willing to hold hands in public.

They stopped at Tara’s front door, and Dana had to let go to let Tara fumble for her keys. Dana searched her face, looking for an answer to the question, what would happen next. Tara’s eyes were light brown now, and clear like a mountain stream.

Tara turned the key in the lock. Quietly, little louder than a whisper, Tara said, “Mom won’t be home for an hour.”

Dana’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Yes. Oh yes. Her reply must have shown in her face—she didn’t even have to nod. Tara opened the door and ushered her in.

They didn’t touch as Tara led Dana upstairs to her room. Not even when Tara closed the door and they dropped two heavy backpacks on the floor. They looked at each other, standing a few feet apart.

Dana want to reach out and kiss Tara. But somehow, she knew she shouldn’t. It was an odd leading, one that didn’t make sense, but Dana obeyed it. It would be easy to seduce Tara, in the mood they were in. She sensed, though, that Tara had to convince herself, or it would fall apart.

Tara reached out and traced the line of Dana’s jaw. Dana’s eyes half-closed as she leaned into the caress. Her cheek tingled where the finger had touched her.

“I don’t know why,” Tara growled, “you think I know what I’m doing.”

Dana caught Tara’s hand in hers before she could pull away, cupped it against her cheek. Because she couldn’t think of what to say, she kissed the inside of her wrist, lightly.

Tara growled on, “Just because I’m in high school doesn’t mean—” but Dana stopped her with a finger on her soft lips.

“I don’t know either.” She swallowed and pulled her finger back to hover over Tara’s mouth. “But I want to find out.”

Tara was trembling, Dana could feel it through her arm. Dana stepped forward and reached out to hold her. Tara caught her in her arms, but instead of just holding her, bent down to kiss her instead. Their lips met with a spark, it felt like, one even stronger than their first kiss, at Cal’s party two weeks ago. Tara kissed her hard, almost savagely, as if she was trying to swallow her doubts in lust. Or swallow her fears.

Dana let herself be swept along. Kissing Tara was sweet. She’d take anything she could get from her.

After several moments, or maybe minutes, Dana felt Tara pushing, pulling—and the edge of the bed against her leg. She sank down on the mattress, still kissing Tara—stroking her as she did so. Dana’s shirt pulled out of her waistband, and Tara’s fingers ran up the skin of her back. It felt like Tara was trying to devour her. Like Dana wanted to be devoured.

A shift, and fumbling fingers, and then Dana’s shirt was off. Dana worked at Tara’s buttons while Tara reached around and unhooked Dana’s bra. Which took a few tries—Tara wasn’t used to that angle. Which Dana should have noticed before. But then the weight of her breasts was free, and Tara cupped them in her hands.

Of a wonder, Tara liked Dana’s breasts—this was one (of many) things that Dana liked about her. They were close to the largest boobs in Dana’s class, and got her more attention from boys than she really wanted. But they made Dana look mature enough to get her into high school parties. The sort of parties where she’d met Tara. Though it had almost backfired when the sophomore found out she’d spent half an hour making out with an eighth grader.

But despite that early misfire, Tara liked Dana’s tits—”a good handful,” she’d called them last week, the first time they’d had real sex. And a good mouthful. Like she was doing now. Dana’s spine hummed, and her breathing grew more ragged. When Tara nudged her back, so she could more easily reach down, Dana fell back slowly, lying down.