Today Logan started a tour. Three weeks. Right away I miss him. I miss him so much! This afternoon I went over to Leila’s. She was busy with her garden, putting in this, puttering with that. She soon had me watering some of the plants she’d just put in. She attached the hose so it would be easier to fill up the watering can. “Soak them good,” she told me. I love gardening. I wish we had a bigger yard. Leila’s is huge. After she’d refilled the watering can a few times with the hose, I asked her why she just didn’t use the hose. “Great idea!” she said, and the next thing I knew she’d turned the hose on me! That brat! The water was cold and I squealed but she kept spraying me. So I swung the watering can, trying to get even, but it was almost empty. Leila smiled and turned the hose on herself. Then she watered me again and then herself again. It was so fun!

Finally she shut the hose off. We were dripping. “I can’t believe how naughty you are,” I said. She said, “Oh, I can be even naughtier,” and next thing I knew she was taking off her sopping wet shirt and then her shorts and even her panties. “You too,” she prodded, but I was too shy. “Come on,” she coaxed. “No one can see.” It was true, I think. She had a big fence to the rear and one side and there were no houses on the other side. But I was still too shy. We went up on the deck, and she said, “Oh dear, we forgot to plant this little fellow.” She sat cross-legged in front of the potted plant. Just then my phone started buzzing in my back pocket. My shorts were wet so I had a bit of trouble getting it out. It was a text from Logan. He’d arrived at his first stop. I told Leila. “I’m glad your phone still works,” she said. “I didn’t know you’d had it in your pocket.” “I’d forgotten about it too,” I said. “Does the camera still work?” she asked. I aimed at Leila and took a picture.

“Looks good,” I told her. “Maybe I’ll send it to Logan so he can see what we’ve been up too.” “Sure, go ahead,” Leila said. “You’re so shameless,” I said. I’m sure she knew I wouldn’t send the picture. She was grinning at me, and stroking one of the leaves of the potted plant in front of her. I couldn’t help but think her stroking was sort of the way she’d stroke her clitoris. Or her lover’s clitoris. It was only then that I wondered if Leila was gay. I shivered. “What are you thinking?” Leila asked. “Nothing,” I blurted. Then I said maybe I was getting a little chilled. “Come inside, you can borrow some of my clothes,” she said, and we went in, and she found some things, and I changed into them while she made tea.

I went home soon after, and now can’t help thinking about Leila’s clit. It doesn’t really show up in the naked picture, even though I’ve enlarged it as much as possible until it’s just a blur.