Anaïs was staying with her cousin Thérèse, whom she had not seen since they were twelve. They seemed to get along, laughing and talking about school and movies and fashion and possible future careers. Thérèse wanted to do something in music, although she confessed she couldn’t sing or play an instrument. Anaïs admitted she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. That evening they talked long into the night across the narrow space between the little beds in Thérèse’s room.

Anaïs awoke with the room bright with morning light. Thérèse was already up, sitting on the edge of her bed writing something in a journal. “Oh, good morning,” Thérèse called to Anaïs. “I’ll just pop into the shower and then it’ll be your turn.” Thérèse tucked the book under her pillow and with a finger wave set off for the bathroom.

Anaïs got out of bed and quickly pulled up the covers. She removed her nightgown and stashed it under her pillow. Maybe I should have left it on until after the shower, she thought. But Thérèse had been naked, so...

As a favor to Thérèse, Anaïs thought she’d make Thérèse’s bed. She took up the pillow to plump it, and there was the journal. Anaïs couldn’t resist. She picked it up and let it fall open to the current page:

I had hoped to meet Pierre today, but with Anaïs here I’m sure that is off. What a pain! I shouldn’t blame Anaïs. She seems nice enough. I don’t know why I lied to her about wanting to be a musician. Well, it’s the truth that I have no skill at playing an instrument, unless one counts the clitoris. I wouldn’t mind playing Anaïs’s clitoris, but should it be plucked or blown? Maybe both! Something to consider while I’m in the shower.

Anaïs blushed. The blush deepened when Thérèse entered the room.

“I was just...” Anaïs started to say. “I was just making your bed.”

Thérèse smiled. “I have an idea. Let’s make it together.”